07-05-1980 – The Game – Sounds
QUEEN ‘The Game’
by Robbie Millar
(This article is accompanied by a picture of Freddie, captioned “The Loser,” seated on the floor wearing leather jacket, leather pants, and no shoes. It has a really ugly angular black mustache added to the picture by the newspaper.)
WINGS, ELO, QUEEN. Some bands belong between the Mantovani and the Martini in the G-plan wall-fitting. Drag out the Pye music centre, flop down on the Habitat fat furniture, nibble on an olive and listen to Queen. Feel safe. Feel comfortable. We’ll worry about the mortgage in the morning.
Once upon a time there was a band called Queen who were *different*, treading the boards of classy theatrical camp, taking it out of the tatty bourgeoisie via ‘Killer Queen’ and discovering that four beats in a bar was not compulsory through the startling originality of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. There was little else to look to. Queen, at least, had something.
Then they discovered harmonies. They found out about lightshows and how playing Wembly-sized cattle grounds was a doss. But they didn’t really need to play ‘gigs’ anymore ‘cos they also discovered the key to commercial success. Brush up the image, flush out the fashion and release another ‘rock classic’.
Of course, bands like Queen do NOT belong in the pages of the throwaway pop press! The many thousands of their faithful fans will declare ‘The Game’ to be just what they wanted (or will they – the standard’s dropped to an all-time low) but the journalists won’t even recognise its existence. ‘The Game is a colossal mountain of unmovable mediocrity. It is old and tired and bland and blinkered. It purrs with self-satisfaction.
All around the singles, such as ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love’ and the grossly banal ‘Play The Game,’ are scattered tidbits of Queen at play and at investments. Money, money, money. ‘Dragon Attack’ is the flabbiest example, a meandering maze of sycophantic guitar squeals and unintelligible (in joke) wordage that’s quite devoid of musical beat. ‘Sail Away Sweet Sister’ floats nearer to the ‘Seven Seas of Rye’ tradition but it’s still a flimsy and trite occupation.
The entire lyrical substance of the band has crumbled under a barrage of million-dollar special effects. The cliche’s are hanging out in the cruiser’s end of town while up at the flash disco everybody is busy
- getting down* no doubt to ‘Rock It’. “When I hear that rock and
roll/It gets down to my soul/ When it’s real rock and roll, oh rock and roll/ Oh oh oh oh/ You really think they like to rock in space?/ Well I don’t know.” Exactly, Freddie. Even the Village People didn’t sink so low.
In case it passed you by, Sham 69 also have a new album called ‘The Game’. Struggling beneath the usual Sham difficulties lies a message of protest, pleading and relevant 1980’s comment. Queen’s game is rather different. Cash from chaos? Cash from trash!
