Queen in Japan, 1981

by Yoko

Believe it or not, this show was the first rock concert I ever attended. When I sat down to write something for this book, I really couldn't remember much of anything, so I reluctantly took a look back at something I wrote at the time for an unofficial Freddie fanclub. Oof, it's embarrassing to read now.

This year's Japanese shows, held around the release of the movie Flash Gordon, were played only at the Budoukan; this was due to the inconvenience of carting around a huge lighting system and the fact that the band went immediately to South America to play a tour there afterwards. I also remember that the shows coincided with end of term exams at school, and I got to Tokyo just in the nick of time after my exams ended. And I'd be remiss to not mention Freddie's new mustache! All the fans hat a lot of complicated feelings about this at the time, but when I think about it some ten-plus years on, it seems like a relatively trivial matter. Oh, it's all coming back to me!

The thing that left the greatest impression on me as far as the staging went was of course the lighting rig. This system, known as the "bug zapper", boasted a lineup of 48 lights on seven boards, with seven pinspots. Each of these lights moved up and down, left and right, and they moved in so many angles and directions and were so beautiful and prominent that you almost wondered if they were the main attraction. But these rigs were extremely difficult to set up and take down, and once you added in the musical equipment, everything added up to about 60 tons (plus the operators!). Everyone was wondering whether the floor of the Budoukan would give out! Incidentally, the lighting rig for the following tour in 1982 would be known as "the pizza oven".

That being said, when you listen to the tapes from these shows, the quality is surprisingly bad. Of course the Budoukan is not known for its great acoustics to begin with, and just when the band would get into a groove they'd fall out of rhythm and three of them would have to try and sync up again. Roger's tympani solo was pretty cool, though.

From the first time I saw Queen onstage until the last time in 1985, I constantly had an impression of the band's dedication to its fans. Their shows didn't feel merely like some cynical commercial strategy—rather, it felt warm and alive. I wasn't conscious of that at the time, but I for sure remember the feeling that I had seen something good as well as the let down after it was over. On the 18th, the last day, the second encore of God Save the Queen didn't play, and there was a fuss in the venue until the four of them came out and played te wo toriatte. As 10,000 fans began to sing along, I took a look around the Budoukan and saw a bunch of fine particles floating down from the ceiling, sparkling in the beams of light. It wasn't dust, either; I thought to myself how I had seen something that shouldn't have been possible. How great that I could experience ecstasy like this at some point in my life! There was for sure no better place to be. It felt like there was a telepathic link between Queen and the fans, all thinking and feeling the same thing, and that's what I wrote about at the time.

Periodically since then, I've looked back and wondered what I had seen glittering in the light that night. One time, I went to the Hiroshima Museum of Art and saw the same dappled light coming from a Monet in an exhibition on Impressionism. Since it was hanging on a wall (obviously), the particles were coming from the side like a shower rather than from the ceiling. I felt my feelings being purified, and attending a Queen concert is no different. While listening to God Save the Queen, there was a mountain of fans crying before they even realized it, but I don't think the tears were purifying us; rather we were crying because we had been purified.

I was able to discern from the audience that Queen's dedication to the fans is its own thing apart from their dedication to the music. The honest joy of Queen's music is their willingness and dedication to putting it out into the world to be received as it is without pretense by the people who desire it most. And they're a lot of fun to sing along to, Queen songs. It's only now that I have come to appreciate their "wear out the master tape until it's transparent!" ethos.

So, how many Queen fans of a tender age left that show (and what WAS that show?!) with the concept of what it means to put yourself into the world? For how many young fans did this concept of self-actualization become normalized? And how many Queen fans have had their lives changed because of it? And furthermore, what percentage of them will carry that forward into their lives, embodying Laozi's thought that one must be oneself at all costs (much like a certain someone)?



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