The millionaire waltz

So, on Saturday I did my first DJ gig since starting this Queen project. The theme was rococo punk, which doesn’t entirely make much sense (and I don’t own a lot of punk), so I was pretty sure I’d nailed it with this one.

I ended up with three men in a stern line, clearly irritated that this song kept on happening. They started off with a chuckle, assuming I was just giving a little blast of waltz time, but the longer it played, the more pissed off they got.

Fucking idiots.

The millionaire waltz.

This song is a wonderful pile of acyclic ridiculousness, and if you can’t have a good time listening to it, then I worry there may be something broken inside you.

Essentially, it’s a kitscher, bouncier variant on the mashed together song elements that worked for so many on Bohemian Rhapsody. We kick off with some waltz-time, we go a little ballad, nudging at something operatic, before slamming into a brutal rock variant, a touch of oompah, some seductive Weimar burlesque, and back to the beginning.

It’s got legs, I’m saying. It will use them to dance you, whisk you off your feet, kick you about a bit, and then chorus line you into submission.

And if that isn’t rococo punk, then I don’t know what is.

Bring out the charge of the love brigade

There is spring in the air once again

Drink to the sound of the song parade

There is music and love everywhere

It’s dedicated to John Reid, their (and Elton John’s) manager at the time. Frankly, he fares hell of a lot better than their last guy.

The whole is pretty decadent, there’s little hint of a critique to it, but it cherishes a certain kind of queer performativity, I think. The sonic inspirations carry it in a particular direction, that give it a subtext all it’s own.

I really enjoy hearing Deacon’s lead bass in the opening sections, bouncing across the strings and matching Freddie’s staccato piano perfectly. He doesn’t stand in the background here, but is right at the fore, anachronistically updating the waltz into something with just a bit more grit. It’s this that leaves space for the wonderful shift in tone as May’s guitars blast in.

And it’s a hell of a lot off rock in a very, very short amount of time, making just enough of a racket for the return to waltztime (now fully guitared) perfectly ridiculous.

Then Freddie starts hamming up his german cabaret voice, to the point where it’s written into the liner notes:

My fine friend – take me wiz you unt love me forever –

My fine friend – forever – ever

Because of course, this isn’t a song about being rich, it’s a song about friendship and love and being made to feel rich through love.

Fuck yeah, Queen.

It’s there right from the beginning, the ‘give a little love’ harmony lines are spotless, and beckon you into a lustrous push and pull. I’ve said it before, but I love the way the voices play with each other in Queen. The key to a good harmony isn’t just the notes, but the tone. There’s something really magic in voices coming together, the sound of people being stronger and better together.

Layered all over this decadent cake of a song.

Let them eat it.

 

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Queen: An Exploded Diagram is me having big and little thoughts about every Queen song in chronological order. If you want to support me, making it more financially viable and easier to explain to people at parties, please back my patreon.

Illustration by Emma.