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Freddie Mercury: vocals/piano
Brian May: guitar/keyboards/vocals
John "Deacon John" Deacon: bass
Roger Meddows-Taylor: drums/vocals
How can anyone with any interest in Queen not know their story? They morphed into existence from the rather unpromising Smile, losing bassist/vocalist Tim Staffell and gaining general hanger-on Farrokh "Freddie Mercury" Bulsara on vocals and (eventually) bassist John Deacon, recording their eponymous debut in fits and starts in 1972 (after a clutch of demos the previous year), not for a label, but for the Trident production company, using De Lane Lea and the company's own studio. It appeared the following year to passable reviews, critics comparing it favourably to Led Zeppelin, amongst others, which doesn't strike me as a bad comparison for a debut album... So why is this here? It's hardly obscure, is it? That isn't actually the point (on the offchance that you thought it was); these articles aren't necessarily about obscure albums, merely ones that are critically overlooked. I'd say Queen qualifies on that front.
Queen gets a hard time from the band's critics and sometimes even its supposed fans. A recent 'Classic Rock Prog' mag review of the reissues of their first few albums, by Porcupine Tree head honcho Steven Wilson had him giving it a miserable 3/5. Of course, it's almost impossible to listen to it today without comparing it to their later work, both the magnificence of their next few albums and the pomp/pop of their '80s heyday, a period which quite certainly puts off many potential fans of their early work. Never mind Radio bloody Ga-Ga, what about Great King Rat, eh? If you look closely at the original sleeve, you'll see the legend 'no synthesizers', added to disabuse anyone of the notion that their multitracked sound was anything other than layer upon layer of guitar. They were to carry on using something similar for the rest of the decade, almost bloody-mindedly, it seems, until a sudden volte-face in 1980, maybe feeling that technology had caught up with their ambitions, or possibly to sell more records. By the way, it's noticeable that band members rarely collaborated with each other when writing, May and Mercury individually supplying the bulk of their material, at least at this stage in their career.
Keep Yourself Alive: The band's first single and a rare (relative) flop, Keep Yourself Alive has been optimistically described as 'an entire album's worth of riffs crammed into a single song'. It's certainly pretty riff-heavy, albeit in a relatively commercial manner; a pop song in the guise of a rock song, but from Brian's introductory muted riffery to Freddie's apparent key-modulating contributions, this doesn't put a foot wrong. We also get a taster of how Brian would approach his guitar parts in future, as he harmonises away like a good'un.
Doing All Right: The band's one re-recording of a Smile song has presumably given co-author Tim Staffell a nice little paycheck over the years and deservedly so. A gentle, late '60s-esque number, it wanders through a few acoustic-and-vocal sections until the band kick in dramatically about two minutes in, rocking like bastards before backing off again. Due to some kind of mixing issue, I'd imagine, the second time Brian lets rip is even more shocking than the first, his guitar too high in the mix for a few seconds, providing an even more drastic contrast with the rest of the song. The final vocal refrain features something that would become a typical Queen trope, the band's three singers harmonising contrapuntally. Incidentally and unusually, that's Brian on the piano.
Great King Rat: The band's first proper epic, Great King Rat kicks off with a burst of feedback, before launching into its killer verse riff and Freddie's bizarre lyrics: "Died syphilis forty four on his birthday", "Great King Rat was a dirty old man and a dirty old man was he". Whatever, Fred... Brian unveils a trick we'd hear more of in the future by 'duelling' with himself, not in harmony, but sequentially, using two completely different guitar sounds for contrast. Roger's galloping rhythm drives the track along, notably after the quiet middle section, under Brian's second solo excursion; actually, Mr Taylor shines throughout, showcasing his 'throcking' approach to the toms and his rock-solid tambourine work.
My Fairy King: Another mini-epic, opening with Brian's backwards guitar part leading into a rhythmic bass/piano part overlaid with Roger's distinctive falsetto, before the piano-led verse/chorus section. A typical early Freddie track, the song feature several other sections in its four or so minutes, in true 'mini-symphony' style. It also features one of John Deacon's first upfront basslines, his finger-style clearly apparent. Incidentally, note the line, "Mother Mercury, look what they've done to me", supposedly Freddie's inspiration for his new name.
Liar: Speaking of epics, Liar is one of the band's finest, incorporating several distinct sections within its six-minute length. Opening with massed handclaps and Roger's ride cymbal-driven rhythm part, the band kick in with a killer rock'n'roll-inspired riff, although the song, maybe surprisingly, is one of Freddie's. Brian goes all multi-overdubbed on us before the middle section, allowing Roger to shine again. Speaking of shining, John gets a second chance to dominate the mix, with a high-end bass part he was to reproduce live on a regular basis. Incidentally, the low-in-the-mix Hammond is probably Brian, but no-one seems quite sure. Oh, another mention of Mercury, too...
The Night Comes Down: The one original demo to make it to the album, if only because the band felt they couldn't capture it so well a second time. The Night Comes Down sounds like nothing else the band ever did, particularly its intro, although Brian's self-harmonising is more familiar. While not one of the album's stronger tracks, it stands up well enough in the context of the record, its acoustic-and-vocal feel a little too similar to Doing All Right to really stand out, although its 'build-up' end section makes it all worthwhile, leading nicely into the next track.
Modern Times Rock'n'Roll: Roger (Meddows-) Taylor got a lead vocal on most Queen albums, usually his own composition, getting off to a good start with Modern Times Rock'n'Roll, a frantic, high-speed adrenaline rush that lyrically sends up the then-current glam scene beautifully.
Son & Daughter: A live favourite for some time to come, Son & Daughter is slow and heavy, if never seriously about to challenge Black Sabbath's hegemony. It's actually more based in the blues, albeit with a filthy edge, not least in the lyrical department, Freddie cheerfully singing Brian's line about 'shovelling shit', although, notably, he self-censored on stage. I'm not convinced this one holds up so well today, although its raw amp-hum belies the band's future reputation as studio perfectionists.
Jesus: Bit of an odd one, this: a Freddie song, telling the Biblical story straight as you like, set to a mid-paced backing, best bits being Brian's double-tracked solo and cascading guitar part and the double-time section.
Seven Seas of Rhye: Despite the full lyrics and several single sleeves from around the world reproduced inside the 1991 Hollywood issue of the CD, Seven Seas Of Rhye here is merely a dry-run for the full version, which appeared the following year on Queen II. An unusual approach, I'll grant you, but they were always an unusual band. All we get here is the intro, sounding strangely neutered, leading into a part akin to the eventual version's end section, all instrumental.
Bonuses: The 1991 US CD issue added Mad The Swine, a 'legendary lost track', which turned out to be not quite so legendary after all, although worth hearing for completists, a 'long-lost retake' of Keep Yourself Alive and an utterly pointless '1991 bonus remix' of Liar, while the 2011 Universal reissue's bonus disc repeats Mad The Swine and adds their five original 1971 demos.
All in all, a fine start to Queen's career, I'd say. A good way of judging debut albums is to wonder how you might see it now had the band never recorded anything else; in this case, I can see it being hailed as a 'lost classic', rather in the manner of Montrose's first (and by far away best) release, even if sniffy fans see it as a poor cousin to their next few albums.
Since you all know What Queen Did Next, this seems slightly pointless, but to recap for those only aware of their later career as stadium pop-pompsters, they refined their sound over their next few albums, before shifting into (relatively) more mainstream gear towards the end of the '70s. Personally, I can only listen to the odd track post-fifth album A Day at the Races without wincing, but that's just me. Saying that, as I said before, a great many younger (well, younger than me) rock fans dismiss Queen as a pop group, having only been exposed to their singles, to which I say: listen to Queen and weep.