May 28, 2022

Picture the scene: Heaven, circa any day.

St. Peter: Hey, Freddie, tell us how you wrote "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" again?

Kurt Cobain: Oh, Christ, not again.

St. Peter {frowning}: Now, now, Kurt, remember that we only have the one rule up here.

Kurt Cobain: Sigh.

Freddie: What, my darling? Why on God's green earth would you want me to tell you that story again?

St. Peter: It's so inspiring.

David Bowie: Why don't you ever ask John and me to relate how we wrote "Fame."

John Lennon: Yeah, Yeah, Yeah.

Joey Ramone: Oh, come on, hell has to be better than hearing that.

St. Peter: Ready, Freddie?

All: Sigh.

Freddie: Darlings, darlings, darlings, I can be quick!

St. Peter: Take your time, Freddie, I am in charge while God naps.

Freddie: I was sitting there in the bath, Goliath, perched on the edge of the tub, purring so delightfully. An Elvis song came on and . . .

Elvis: Which song, Freddie? "Hound Dog?" "All Shook Up?" "Heartbreak Hotel?" "Blue Suede Shoes?" Which one?

Freddie: I don't remember, darling. Maybe "Burning Love?"

Elvis: "Burning Love???" Oh, damn, I hate that song. Stupid, stupid song.

Freddie: It's not important, darling.  All I know is that I wanted to do a song that sounded like you.

Elvis: In 1979? There wasn't a whole lot of people wanting to be me at that point. I didn't want to be me. I was still trying to get used to being dead.

Freddie: I know, darling, I think that was part of it. Within seconds I had that opening line "this thing called love/I just can't handle it." I had to jump out of the tub and race to find my acoustic guitar.  Just picture me, boys, racing across the hotel room, au naturel, bubbly water dripping off of me, to get that cute little guitar.  {Freddie looks demurely at Kurt Cobain, who drops his eyes and studies the marble floor.}

St. Peter: Few people knew you even played the guitar, right?

Freddie: Well, with Brian spending 24/7 on his guitar, what was the point, right? So, anyway, I strum those opening chords, and I'm starting to sway, soapy water flying off of my body across the divan, and the lyrics just kept coming. I'm watching myself in the mirror, and the lines "it swings/it jives/it shakes all over like a jellyfish" are just dangling there in front of my face, if you get my drift, darlings?

St. Peter: Now, now, Freddie, let's not be crude.

Freddie: Hey, you knew who I was. I always figured I'd end up in Hell where I was sure it would be more fun.

St. Peter: Sorry, Freddie, that's just one of those misconceptions that all of us up here have given up trying to clarify. It's what's in the heart, not what comes out of the mouth, that determines where you end up.

Freddie: Yeah, Yeah, I know that now.  Anyway, I soon realized the song needed some hand claps, so I am smacking the body of the guitar, picturing Deac-y laying down a great bass line. . .

John Entwistle: A moment of silence, all, for the Deacon bass line.

{Heaven is filled with the kind of silence that usually only happens when Notre Dame is getting ready to play a football game.}

St. Peter: {Checks his watch} Good enough. Go on, Freddie.

Freddie: . . . and pretty boy Roger wailing away on the drum kit. I knew at that point, I had to add him leading the cheeky "ready, Freddie" in the call and response.

Elvis: You never heard me name check myself in a song.

Freddie: Oh, El, so droll. Anyway, you all know me, darling, I eventually got bored with the whole damn thing, so I dried off, threw on some clothes, kissed Goliath, found Roger in the bar, Deac-y in the laundry, and we raced to the studio to record it.

St. Peter: No Brian, eh?

Freddie: Who knew where he was? Probably looking through a telescope somewhere.

Jimi Hendrix: So that guitar solo is you?

Freddie: On, goodness, no, no, no, cute little Jimi. I tried something, but ultimately just wrote, "insert typical Brian show-offery here" and we recorded the song. Couldn't have taken more than 10 minutes.

Leonard Cohen: 10 freaking minutes. Took me five years to write "Hallelujah," many of those spent in some really dark places.

St. Peter: Can we get a hallelujah for Leonard? It's about that time of day, anyway.

All: Hallelujah.

St. Peter: Alright, thanks for telling the story again, Freddie. I think it is a testament for just letting the moment come.

Freddie: Great, can I now finally see all my cats?

St. Peter: Freddie, how many times do I have to tell you, they are in hell? All cats are.  Can I interest you in any of the kabillion dogs up here?

Queen. "Crazy Little Thing Called Love." The Game. Elektra, 1979. Link here.

Day 148: The Inspirational Choir Of The Pentecostal First Born Church Of The Lord. "Pick Me Up."

Day 150: Belly "Suffer The Fools"

Unfinished list here.