David and I were fortunate enough to see Bohemian Rhapsody at the movies last Saturday. David was like, “Sure we can go. Uhm, who are we seeing, again? Queen? Who are they, again?”
“WHO’S FUCKING QUEEN?!!!! REALLY, DAVID? DIDN’T WE JUST HAVE THIS CONVERSATION A FEW MONTHS AGO? DO THE NAMES FREDDIE MERCURY, BRIAN MAY, ROGER TAYLOR AND JOHN DEACON NOT RING A BELL TO YOU? ANYTHING? NO?”
He said, “No. Not really. Should they? I may have heard of John Deacon. Is he the singer?”
“No, David. Just…no.” *me weeping* “If you haven’t heard of the first three guys, then I guarantee you haven’t heard of John Deacon, at least not John Deacon of Queen. Trust me on this. And no, he isn’t the main singer,” I spat. I had to walk away before I hit something. I slapped my forehead on my way to the kitchen to get Advil for my throbbing headache, which, of course, just aggravated it. How the hell had we managed to live as man and wife for over 20 years without David knowing who Queen is? And why was it that I was just now becoming aware of this fact over these last several months? Where did I go wrong? Also, note to self: Never slap your head when you already have a headache.
Of course, there was a time when I could never have pictured David and me together as a compatible couple because…music. Some people might have said it was because of our 23-year age difference. Nope. Music is very important to me and we have different tastes in music. In hindsight, that’s been for the best because we don’t argue and fight over stupid things like — is Robert Plant using his real voice or does he artificially enhance it? Is Page really technically proficient?
Because I can tell you right now, you come at me like the ex did and try and ruin the mighty Zep for me with that bullshit and — well, the ex and I didn’t divorce over that per se, but let’s just say that this argument didn’t help to keep us together either. Matter of fact, my regard for him crashed after that argument much like Wall Street did on Black Tuesday. And like those who were severely impacted by the Wall Street Crash in 1929 and didn’t survive, neither did our marriage.
I feel blessed that David and I don’t get into those kind of stupid arguments. Besides, David doesn’t really listen to music on the radio very much; he likes to listen to talk radio. That’s right. I said it. He likes talk radio and that’s fine by me as long as I don’t have to listen to it. Though, to be truthful, I do listen sometimes just to keep up with all the political stuff he enjoys keeping up with and telling me about. And no, I refuse to talk politics on this blog.
Hell, I refuse to talk politics when it’s just David and me. Or with my dad. I love my husband. I love my dad. And these two enjoy talking politics and are on polar opposites of the political spectrum. All I know is that they turn into awful people when they talk politics. And I found out that when I talk politics, I turn into an awful person as well and, frankly, life’s too short for me to think and say the awful things I think and say when talking politics. It’s bad enough that I’ve done this in the past. However, I’ve learned from my mistakes and, today, I refuse to let politics get between me and my loved ones.
As tenuous as life can sometimes be, I’ll be damned if the last words one of my loved ones hear me say is, “You’re crazy or full of shit, you know that!” as I slam the door behind me. So I can love them and still not love their politics. I’ve learned to just stick my fingers in my ears and say “La, la, la…I can’t hear you!” whenever I must.
When it comes to music, David’s always enjoyed the symphony, but he also likes his early rock and roll and his country and western. And, okay, I like some of this stuff — Elvis, duh — and Willie and Waylon and the Highwaymen and then there’s something to be said for a young Dwight Yoakum in his cowboy hat and tight jeans — but Conway Twitty and George Jones?
Well, yeah, over the years, as David has learned to appreciate Led Zeppelin, I’ve learned to appreciate Conway Twitty and George Jones — in the same way that I’ve learned to appreciate golf and basketball because…David. I’m not going to lie — country music will never be my favorite genre of music; however, compared to where I began in our relationship, you know, I’ve made great progress in learning to enjoy country. I do enjoy me some Texas Swing.
On the flip side, David will never be able to appreciate Led Zeppelin as much as I do because, you know, he will never be able to appreciate Jimmy Page in quite the same way I do. And really, all anyone has to know is that you bad mouth Jimmy Page or Led Zeppelin and you are dead to me forever. It’s all about respect. Easy peasey. He also knows that if he can’t identify a song as Led Zeppelin within the first 10 seconds, we are probably going to have to divorce, because that would be the
straw insult that broke the camel’s back up our marriage. Because face it — Led Zeppelin. So, yeah, David and I have different tastes in music and we put up with each other’s music because we like each other and when you like each other, you learn to like what your better half is into as well. Or at least be respectful about it.
When we were invited to Danielle and Drew’s wedding this past summer, they asked us what “our song” was. Yeah, because couples have “their song.” Except David and me. We’ve never had “our song.” Anyway, it was still funny when we both looked at each other and said in unison, “Up Against the Wall Redneck Mother.” It’s not really our song. It’s more our sense of humor. But now that’s our song any time someone asks.
It’s too bad Drew and Danielle didn’t play it at their reception, which is why they asked about it in the first place. Unfortunately, Jerry Jeff Walker was excluded. I’m sure it was just an oversight since they played other couples’ songs. Or maybe it had to do with the line, “just kicking hippies’ asses and raising hell.” There were a lot of hippies at their wedding. Not that David and I actually do that — kick hippies’ asses, I mean. Besides, David knows I’m one of those damned hippies at heart. I’d rather be a rich hippie, but that’s for another blog post. And even so, he’s yet to kick my ass. Or even try.
Through our twenty plus years together, I’ve discovered that David has a penchant for Metallica, which he discovered when listening to the radio station I like. We were driving along one day and he asked who was on the radio and I said that’s Metallica. He said, “I like that. It’s good driving music.” And then the next time we heard Metallica on the radio (different song), he said, “That sounds like those guys I like, who’d you say, Metallica?” And I was all excited and said, “That’s because it is Metallica. Nice going, there, Babe!” So now, every time we hear a Metallica song, David will say, “Hey, is that those guys?” And I will very proudly answer, “It is.”
The fact that David is into Metallica freaked his kids (all adults) out. Because, you know Metallica is a long way from Conway Twitty and George Jones. However, Johnny Cash and Trent Reznor (NIN) also seem to be miles apart and yet they have a little something in common as well, so what the hell. When it comes to music, maybe there’s more to be had in common than what sets music apart. I know for a fact that one can like, for instance, both the Gaither Family and Queen. By the way, for those of you who don’t get the connection between Johnny Cash and Trent Reznor, Google it. What’s it gonna hurt?
Anyway, it’s nice reflecting on the fact that throughout our marriage, David and I have become more diverse, and perhaps, are still evolving in our musical tastes. Not only has David learned to identify Metallica by their sound, but he’s also pretty good with AC/DC as well. Not that he knows the names of any of their songs, except, “Thunder, ” but that’s from years of going to Maverick Games and hearing it played there. Good times, y’all. So here’s the thing: If he can identify AC/DC and Metallica, I am so confused as to why he doesn’t know who the hell Queen are with all of their rock anthems played at sporting events. Hello? “We Will Rock You?” “We Are the Champions?” “Another One Bites the Dust?”
Ryan, Lauren and I were a little concerned when “Bohemian Rhapsody” came on the radio and David nonchalantly asked, “Who’s that?” I was too perturbed to speak. I just lowered my head and slowly shook it back and forth. Ryan quickly said, “That’s Queen, David.” Ryan looked annoyed as hell. How many Queen songs have we heard on the radio while driving to or from somewhere? Too many to count, that’s how many. How could David not know this iconic song by Queen? Even Lauren was shocked and dismayed. How many times have we head banged in the car to this very song àla Wayne’s World?
“Daddy, how could you not know Queen?” David said, “Well, why would I?” Then we rambled off the three sporting event anthems along with “Crazy Little Thing Called Love,” “Under Pressure,” “Killer Queen” and “Fat-Bottomed Girls” and he said, “Oh. Okay. I think maybe I’ve heard those before.”
Sigh. “Yes. Yes, you have, David. You hear all of them on the radio ALL. THE. TIME. Don’t ask me, who sings this!”
Anyway, he shouldn’t have this problem any more. He’s now seen the movie and he can now p[lace the music to the group. Rami Malek (who he knows as that guy from Mr. Robot) was an amazing Freddie Mercury, singing all of the above songs and more.
So David knows who Freddie Mercury is now — dawling. Hell, at this point, he probably knows more about Queen than a whole lot of people. And simply as a fan — not a superfan, mind you — but just a fan, I loved the movie. I did get to see the real and indefatigable, flamboyant Freddie Mercury and Queen along with Billy Squier live at Reunion Arena in 1982. I believe that was the night I jumped from the upper section to the floor and lived to tell the tale. WooHoo!
Of course if you’re a superfan and know all there is to know about Queen trivia, then the movie might irk you because I understand there was a bit of poetic license taken in how some events unfolded in the movie that is not true to life. However, if you don’t know these things, as I didn’t, then it won’t bother you. I’m just saying that because the critics were so…critical, I think it may have impacted people going to see this movie their first weekend in wide release.
I was a little disheartened that on Saturday afternoon, the theater wasn’t packed; hell, it wasn’t even half full. And that’s too bad because if it had been full, then my singing alone wouldn’t have been so awkward. Instead, David and I could have enjoyed full audience participation, singing along with clapping and stomping. Because that is what Queen fans do! But give this movie a few years and, no doubt, this will be an audience interactive cult classic playing at midnight on the weekends, no doubt as part of a double feature. BTW, is it just me that thinks that a young Freddie Mercury has at least a passing resemblance to Dr. Frank N. Furter from Rocky Horror Picture Show?
Rest in peace, Freddie Mercury! And Long Live Queen!
PS – To whet the appetite! Y’all go see this movie! It was fun!