Roger Taylor
Weary of our attitude to the elderly in this country, Alan Bennett once claimed that if you can eat a boiled egg in your seventies, people think you deserve a Nobel Prize. Roger Taylor can do a lot more than eat a boiled egg – it seems wildly inappropriate to even describe this musical polymath as elderly – but he is now in his seventies, and it’s hard to ignore that improbable fact. How on earth did that happen? The age range of his expectant audience, themselves growing restless after a ninety minute wait without the distraction of a support, was consequently huge. Folk, obviously old enough to have seen him first time around, rubbed shoulders with kids who could only have seen Queen on YouTube. I dare say many are related, passing down the baton of admiration through the generations. These aren’t just fans, they are acolytes, worshipping at the temple. The gent next to me had flown in from Germany, hired a car, and was following Taylor round the country. If you bear in mind that meant driving down from the previous night’s performance in Liverpool, it’s a measure of the feverish anticipation Taylor was confronted with when he finally came on stage.
Things got off to an inauspicious start, when Sigur Rós’ Hoppípolla stuttered and then stalled, forcing the band to creep self-consciously onto stage in silence, before setting up a musical platform for the man himself to walk on to. Sporting an all-black ensemble and shades, he entered, stage right, affected a statesmanlike presence from the start. Very much the master of ceremonies, notwithstanding his measured gait, he looked itching to do more than just stand there and sing. But of necessity that’s what, for the most part, he stuck to, kicking things off with the eponymous tune off his mid-eighties solo album Strange Frontier.
“This one’s even older,” he quipped before following it up with Tenement Funster. I can’t remember when I last listened to Sheer Heart Attack, and consider the song one of its minor gems, yet such is the significance of the album, I was surprised to find that I knew all the words. It’s a pattern that repeated itself, as Taylor treated his audience to a judicious sprinkling of the music he has composed for Queen over the years – music that is surely embedded in our DNA. Inevitably, these were the songs that garnered the biggest reaction, not least the extraordinary hand-clapping during Radio Ga Ga, but no doubt keen to avoid becoming his own tribute act, the bulk of the evening was given over to his solo material. We got a sizable chunk of the new Outsider album, where Taylor revealed himself to be both angry at the Gangsters Running the World, and reflective at Trying to Get By. It was in More Kicks, however, that things went up a gear, leading to one of two brief goes on the drums, which he had otherwise left in the capable hands of Tyler Warren.
Warren proved that Taylor wasn’t the only singing drummer on stage, and came close to upstaging his mentor with his version of Queen’s Rock it, when Taylor took a break. Upon his return, an inevitable drum dual took place between them, and while I’ll never be a huge fan of what seems an indulgence to me, it was brief, and good natured, so who am I to quibble? Warren was only one of the hugely gifted musicians Taylor surrounded himself by, and though clearly assembled for the tour, and therefore somewhat lacking in chemistry, they produced note perfect versions of all that was asked of them. Some of the music presented missed the mark for me – Surrender and Say Its Not True were well meaning but maudlin, and had many in the crowd chattily marking time. But for every miss there was a hit to follow, with Haircuts and Up particularly strong.
Taylor has such a tricky path to navigate, wanting to present his new work while knowing his audience are gagging for Under Pressure or A Kind Of Magic. He obviously had great fun with In Love with my Car, but you have to wonder how he manages carrying around so much baggage. I wonder if that’s why he chose two entirely unrelated covers for an encore, and I wonder what it says that when playing Led Zeppelin’s Rock and Roll that both he and the band looked happiest.
