Mr. Bad Guy is the best album Queen ever made

There are two moments in Bryan Singer's "Bohemian Rhapsody" that could be seen as a wink-and-nod to rock purists. In one scene, Freddie Mercury, after partying excessively I believe, enters the recording studio where the other bandmates have been waiting for him (for they clearly do no partying of their own). Freddie disrupts the peaceful climate by suggesting they do a song that gives the same vibe as a disco club - thus making "Another One Bites the Dust". In another scene, Freddie's final transition into a solo career is depicted as a betrayal to Queen, the band.

For a proponent of Queen the-band-Queen and songs-only-by-Queen, this is a tragedy. As far as art goes, some artists have made their best material after going solo. A Mr. Michael Jackson and a Mr. Paul Simon would like to speak up.

Sure, solo careers can be disastrous, but it really depends on the artist's own initiative and drive. Some artists, leaving their most famous band, misinterpret their own material or don't bother evolving their material (Mr. Morrissey and Mr. Julian Casablancas, please stand up). But if the artist understands what music they like to make, what music they can make, and what they want to do going forward on their own, they more often than not exceed their former band. I mean, I'll take Public Image Ltd. over the Sex Pistols any day.

And you know what, (this deserves its own paragraph) Harrison's "All Things Must Pass" and McCartney's "Ram" were more satisfying than any Beatles record that has passed from my memory. I said it. I'll say it again: no one wants to hear John mumble sweet nothings over an acoustic guitar. We're adults. Gotta move on. (I'm a millenial by the way.)

Freddie knew what Queen was and he knew what he was. This is clear after listening to "Mr. Bad Guy". In retrospect, Queen's style of rock n' roll was excessive and excessive and unfocused. They made songs for football stadiums and karaoke - songs that you can chant and not think too hard about. Yes, there is a personable element to "Another One Bites the Dust" and "We Will Rock You", and "Seven Seas of Rhye" and "Dragon Attack" are weird and geeky, but it's hard not to be those things. The best thing about Queen is that the songs were made by human beings and not a committee. Other than that, there's a lack of personal depth in a great number of songs (except "Bohemian Rhapsody" of course, and probably several others).

Freddie embraced the excessiveness but didn't care much for the lack of focus. Michael Jackson's "Off the Wall" and "Thriller" proved you could sound big while keeping an intimate core, personal story to the music. (In fact, I always think of "Mr. Bad Guy" as a better "Off the Wall".) Michael pursued precision and polish, even when he intended to sound grimy; he had a very specific idea of what he wanted to achieve. Queen liked messes, messiness was often part of the art. Most encapsulated in "Bohemian Rhapsody", songs would lose track of thought and enter some other mode of thinking.

Part of Queen's messiness came from Freddie and his skill at entering multiple trains of thought. "We Are The Champions", a simple song on first listen, actually incorporates a narrator's history with the moment he is sharing in with others; Freddie, through verse-chorus, weaves both chronologies together at once. The worst part about Queen, honestly, is that the instruction around Freddie seemed incidental. Most productions, in my ear, appear to be some people saying "this sounds cool, let's do that." There's nothing wrong with people being creative, but it has to arrive at something, rather than an emphatic, proggy "eh".

"Man Made Paradise", which I had an itch to listen to today for some reason, is a great example of how Freddie innovated on top of Queen. I can't say if it's the fault of the mixing, but it begins with a heavy-handed piano, a sludgy bass and a very whatever drum. In short, it's all over the place - everything is equally noticeable and nothing stands out. It only comes together when Freddie begins singing and immediately begins to narrate in a vivid, emotional tone. From there on, Freddie's lyrics provide context to the kludgy instrumentation - it's supposed to be chaotic, mirror his mental state. The song transitions from fanciful depression to fanciful ecstasy, in a dance song no less.

The reason I keep coming back to "Mr. Bad Guy" is because Freddie, moreso than in any Queen song, inhabits the album, whether it's a fictionalized version of him or not. The composition finally fit his voice and his ideas. Queen's cover of "I Was Born To Love You" is a big, theatrical nightmare. In comparison, the album version is straightforward and even a bit elegant: a drum track and a wandering, very clear, piano, with an electrical guitar bumping in every once in a while. That was kind of the point: "I Was Born To Love You" is intended as a very simple statement of loving someone; the composition emphasizes the strength of the lyrics, which for a pop song are pretty darn good. A powerful tug-and-pull emerges from the first verse: "So take a chance with me / Let me romance with you / I'm caught in a dream and my dream's come true / So hard to believe this is happening to me" - notice how in the first two lines, your eye roves from "me" and "you", showing the rapidity at which his feeling soars; the third line emphasizes the idea of a "dream", and the last depicts disbelief, which is actually sheer joy. In short: don't muddle up Freddie's narrative with your heavy-handed instrumentation, idiots.

The peculiar quality that differentiates a great pop record from a great record of any other genre is how right it sounds, and "Mr. Bad Guy" just sounds right. "I Was Born To Love You" ends with a big, excessive synthesizer solo, appropriate because the narrator has finally lost words to describe his feeling. "Foolin' Around", the most "normal" song of the album, is accompanied by a mean, taut bassline and soaring synth; it showcases Freddie's lust, humor, and subtle annoyance. "Your Kind of Lover" and "Love Me Like There's No Tomorrow" are my favorite songs. He's really in those damn songs, honestly - I can't say what Freddie Mercury truly was, but the desire depicted in those songs is so powerful, so strong, that one can't help think he truly felt those lyrics he wrote. Jesus. Listening to it right now, hearing Freddie sing, in a half-yell, "Just step right into my heart / Come a little closer / Don't tell me that it's over / Make a brand new start" curdles my blood. On paper? Yeah, it sounds silly, maybe even generic. He sells it though. No one else could pull it off. I can't even say how often I've recalled the lyrics, "Love me like there's no tomorrow / Hold me in your arms, tell me you mean it / This is our last goodbye, and very soon it'll all be over / But today just love me like there's no tomorrow"; as corny as it is, it feels genuine every time you hear it.

This most recent re-listen of "Mr. Bad Guy" occurred to me at a funny time, because I was just remarking to a friend about those old, rock n' roll bands. AC/DC just released a new single called "Realize" that's a bit boring. What characterized those bands the most were a sense of humor and a courage to do something stupid, conceptually. "Big Balls"? Yeah, but they were young men when they made it. As you get older, you feel reluctant to attempt something tongue-in-cheek - you acquire children, grandchildren, real estate and vacation days. Freddie was 39 when "Mr. Bad Guy" was released. Rather than pretend to be something he wasn't, he just made an album with the knowledge of what he thoroughly was. Owning up to yourself has always been a big part of the artistic process. Sometimes art is taking a simple, even childish idea and elevating it through the way it's presented. Freddie exceeded the now self-serious, canonized Queen.

So shove it, Bryan Singer.