Thirty years ago you took O-Levels, Den was yet to serve divorce papers on Angie, you had no Neighbours and Freddie Starr was (allegedly) eating hamsters. Oh, and I went to the best gig ever.
Friday, the 11th of July, 1986. I was 19, and I had big hair. I also owned a very nice grey leather jacket, which I was paying for in weekly instalments to the lady over the road with the catalogue. The world was my oyster, although fish fingers were more my level of sophistication.I had yet to try lasagne, had no idea why anyone would want a frothy coffee, and lived at home with my parents, who were distinctly unimpressed with my taste in music. Or possibly the volume.
What else was a teenage lad to do? Computers barely existed (IBM were just releasing the ‘PC Convertible’, a concept so radical no-one had thought of calling it a ‘laptop’ yet), mobile phones were the size of a brick, price of a house, and only did what their name suggested, and there are only so many games of Monopoly you can play with your brother. Especially when he cheats.
So music it was. Loud. Rock. And predominantly Queen. “A Kind Of Magic” had recently been released, and “One Vision” was my favourite song ever (and still is, in fact).
When ‘The Magic Tour’ was announced, me and my mates got tickets (£14.50!), and on the big day hopped in the car and drove to Wembley. We queued for ages, but at least got some free samples of a new chocolate bar, which – as my leather jacket had pockets – I got to carry. Did I mention it was rather warm? Yes, that worked well.
Legging it down the pitch, we got fairly close to the front and sat on the ground, as thrilled to be there as everyone else, chatting and reading reviews of the previous gig in the paper. The support bands were pretty decent; some new bunch of Australians called INXS, The Alarm, Status Quo – good stuff.
Then the long wait as it started to get dark. The tension built, and the opening of One Vision thundered out of the speakers before Freddie and the band exploded onto the stage. I was as happy as I’ve ever been. The whole concert was amazing. Even when it rained, we were so crammed in that only your head got wet. No-one cared, carried away by the excitement of it all.
Hits, hits, more hits. Flawless performances. Fabulous sound, amazing lights, giant inflatable cartoon characters of the band from the album cover floating away into the night (imagine a 40 foot Brian May landing in your garden).
Good friends, great time, no-one blocking your view with a brightly-lit phone screen. OK, the 2 hour queue to get out of the car park wasn’t great, but hey.
The leather jacket and (unfortunately) the big hair are long gone, but the memory isn’t. It was, and still is, the greatest gig I’ve ever been to.
This post first appeared as my "Thank grumpy it's Friday" column, in the North West Evening Mail, on the 22nd of July 2016, where it was retitled as "Recalling a day fit for Queen".
Of course, it was the following day's gig that's featured on the live album and video, although later DVD versions at least had "my" gig on there too. Sadly, Mercury's response to rumours that the band was about to split up; "We're going to stay together until we f**ing well die" turned out to be all too true just five years later.
I don't play Queen albums as much as I used to, but to be fair I don't play any albums as much as I used to. When one does make it into the CD player, I do find myself wondering why I don't do it more often. Rock/pop perfection.
(CD A:Z: Murray Gold's Doctor Who Series 8 TV Soundtrack. Orchestralicious.)
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