“Keep Yourself Alive” is the sound of possibility, it’s the sound of excitement, it’s the sound of grandeur and power. It’s the sound of Queen.
Chris Shields, clshields@stcloudtimes.com
There are first loves and there are lasting loves.
The Beatles were my first musical love, no question. (And that love still burns, believe me.)
Then came Pink Floyd. And the Beach Boys. And Queen.
Oh, Queen. Freddie Mercury, Brian May, Roger Taylor and John Deacon. Yeah, that’s a potent foursome right there. Every member wrote. Every member wrote hits. You don’t see that every day, especially these days.
I first got into Queen back in the day because of “Wayne’s World” and “Bohemian Rhapsody.” I got my first Queen CD for Christmas, and it was the “Classic Queen” compilation. “Bohemian Rhapsody” was the crown jewel of the CD — or at least, that’s how it seemed to my uninitiated eye at the time. It was the only song I recognized strictly by the song title. Where were “We Will Rock You” and “We Are the Champions” or even “Killer Queen?” I at least knew those.
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There’s a thrill in virgin territory, of being an explorer on a frontier you’d never even glimpsed before. Track after track, “Classic Queen” delivered. To hear for the first time such great songs as “Radio Ga Ga” or “These are the Days of Our Lives” ... I mean, that’s just one reason it is worthwhile to listen to new acts. To find those “first times,” those first listens, the exploring of new worlds and finding new loves and getting that sublime rush.
But one rush, one thrill stands out. From an opening strum that sounds frantic, nervous, almost twitchy, before a soaring guitar line takes over and the drums kick in and then all the magic happens. “Keep Yourself Alive” was, and remains, a revelation.
It’s the first song on their first album, but I didn’t know it then. Within the context of the compilation, I really didn’t know if it was from 1970, 1980 or 1990. And I didn’t care. Honestly, I still don’t. The song has that pulse, that eternal vigor, a somehow-youthful world wariness that could so easily annoy but is instead so charming.
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These nothings who’d yet to conquer much of anything already advising others to “just be satisfied” with who they are, what they are doing, don’t worry about being a superstar. I’m sure songwriter May meant it all very tongue in cheek, but it has a conviction to it. It could be interpreted as being condescending, I suppose. Or even as an attempt to thwart possible competition (they don’t want me to try to be a superstar because they’re afraid I’ll get all the glory!).
But no. No, I heard it as people who’ve clawed through the muck, who’ve stood in lines, who’ve driven all night in order to get to that grass-is-always-greener big show only to find ... they still had to do laundry. They still had to pool money to get a few sandwiches. They were still normal guys, working a job, trying to get ahead.
But it transcends the mundane, the song is more than friendly advice. The soaring guitar work that became the trademark of May already is in full flower. Mercury’s strident vocals demand the ear’s attention without begging or squalling. Taylor’s drumming is both in the pocket, working the groove, as well as setting a good stomp. Subtle and anthemic? Why not? And Deacon’s bass? Perfect, noodling on top to add that extra touch of energy, then falling into lock with Taylor’s drums. Such a dynamic rhythm section.
But you have to hear it. You have to experience it. It’s the kind of song you can process mentally but find yourself with your fist in the air, nodding your head as you do it. It grabs the heart, it seduces the head.
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When I hear it on headphones, I’m 13 years old again. When I hear it in the car, I’m 19 again. When I watch it in concert videos, I’m 25 again. To relive your pimply angst (and hopes), to relive your youthful confidence (or arrogance), to relive your first tastes of post-college independence ... These are gifts. And if you can have it all with one song, how can that not mean something to you?
All of that, and the song was never really a hit in the UK or in the USA. Go figure.
“Keep Yourself Alive” is not my favorite Queen song (that’d be “Don’t Stop Me Now”), but it’s one of the most important Queen songs in my personal experience. It’s the sound of possibility, it’s the sound of excitement, it’s the sound of grandeur and power. It’s the sound of Queen. It’s a kind of magic (pardon the pun).
Now, let’s talk about “It’s Late” ...
This is the opinion of music enthusiast and Queen devotee Chris Shields. Contact him at clshields@stcloudtimes.com and follow him on Twitter @clshields1980. Read more of his columns at www.sctimes.com/cshields.
