family, he preferred to close the door on Farrokh Bulsara and reinvent himself as someone else – someone synonymous with
glamour, fame and strength. For this he delved into Roman mythology and chose Mercury, the messenger of the gods. As of July
1970, Queen’s lead singer was to be known as Freddie Mercury.
Friends accepted the change easily, but for Ken Testi, with whom Mercury had stayed in touch after leaving Wreckage, the new
band name came as a shock: ‘Since no one stayed in a flat with a phone, we kept in touch by using the public call box at the
end of the aisle at Kensington market, where Fred and Roger worked. Freddie wanted me to help get the band bookings, and one
day he rang me at St Helens, urging me to fix them up with some gigs as soon as possible. I asked him what they were calling
themselves now, and Fred said, “Queen”. Well, I guess that was a giveaway when you think about it, but anyway I gasped, “Freddie!
You can’t get away with that!” To which he replied airily, “But of course we can, my dear.”’
But behind the cavalier façade lay a calculating brain. Although they had been formed for only a few weeks, Queen’s lack of
progress was wearing them down. Playing local gigs was all very well – though even then bookings didn’t just drop out of the
sky – but their horizons went far beyond that. They wanted the band to attract the interest of record companies. Apart from
Smile’s brief liaison with Mercury Records, none of them could boast any real experience of how to do this. But they refused
to be deterred, and Mercury had already put the first phase of his attack into operation.
In those days, Kensington High Street thronged each weekend with people who could be helpful to an aspiring band. Fully aware
of this, Mercury made a point of being there. His apparently effortless display, mincing up and down the street, draped in
velvet and fur, with feather boas tossed casually around his neck, concealed a determined attempt to catch the eye of the
media, preferably someone useful from the record industry. Ken Testi confirms that ‘This was an every Saturday occurrence.
He’d go on the prowl up and down Ken High Street. Sure there was a bonus – he could cruise, and it was very important to Freddie
to go on the promenade – but he never lost sight of the fact that he was there for a more important reason, and it was a case
of, you never know your luck.’
Queen were counting on a showcase gig they had arranged for mid-July at Imperial College. The audience would include their
friends, who could be depended upon to clap enthusiastically, but the bulk of the audience, they hoped, would consist of the
music executives whom they had personally invited. It didn’t turn out to be their night, though. Some executives did turn
up, and the band’s friends did their best to make the gig swing, but absolutely nothing came of it.
Having to content himself with the knowledge that at least their performance was improving, Mercury shelved his disappointment
and concentrated instead on a gig just over a week away, on 25 July, at PJ’s in Truro. They would be publicly billed here
as Queen for the first time, but this gig turned out to be the last for Mike Grose. ‘Basically, I’d had enough of never earning
decent money and of living in squalor,’ reveals Grose. ‘I thought, to hell with it. There wasn’t any animosity, and in fact
Roger rang me up a fortnight later to ask me back, but I didn’t want to.’
When Mike Grose left that August, he had an uneasy feeling that he was walking away from something special. But, at twenty-three,
having played already for six years, he was readyto quit. By contrast, Mercury, at much the same age, was driven all the more to succeed. Time was not running out for the
band, but by their mid-twenties most rock stars were established. Queen remained in its infancy, and was now short of a bass
John R. Little and Mark Allan Gunnells