“Objection, your Honor: context!” Re-phrase:
In late 1975, when Bo Rap’s thunderbolts and lightning cast Queen as rock-gods, was Mercury struck as very, very openly gay?
To “be gay”, or “not to be gay”, in mid-1970’s England, was that a question of psychiatric, legal, and/or religious ramifications? Mamma mia; “Spare him his life from” such monstrosities", right?
Bo-Rap is a thrill ride shape-shifter, from tragic tear-jerk-trigger-pulling proportions to the comedically scary mock-opera trial parts. It took “Wayne’s World” to push on the gas of the thrill ride back up the U.S. charts to not-quite-#1. Before the snooty over-analysis to follow, let’s get one thing straight: this song has plenty of Bohemian comedy, so line up your opera spectacles (is “opera” gay?). And let’s not forget the B-side: Roger’s “I’m in Love With My Car”. Was he, then, motorosexual? Metrosexual? It’s all dripping in the metaphorical. Words, words, words, must be carefully chosen: ask Oscar Wilde or anyone accused of being heretical by the Papacy (scarier than reigning Queens, like certain … nevermind).
Was Galileo imprisoned for his heliocentrism? Galileo Galilei was a Sheer Heretic, no? And if Dr. Brian May played the role of the 17th Century Astronomer, then who is Figaro, and were THEY straight? Was the earth flat? “Objection, your Honor!”
Sustained; irreverent. Scaramouche, re-direct the “gay connotations” rotation annotation to the 20th to 21st century. Proceed:
Many folks interpret Bo Rap’s lyrics as Mercury’s metaphoric struggle with his sexuality; Brian May and Roger Taylor he hinted at the viability of this “rap” regarding Freddie’s Bohemia.
Mercury let these lyrics “be” open to interpretation. The song was a seedling as “The Cowboy Song”. That theme bit the dust ahead of time, but apparently left a smoking gun, anyway the wind blew pipes into Queen’s three singing members in mock-opera splendor, the antithesis of a “mute” court. Or was it an operatic jury from Hell passing judgment on the “love” that dare not speak its name?
Freddie did say the song was about “relationships”; everyone can relate to that, regardless of “sexual preferences”.
Sheila Whiteley co-authored a 2006 “book” of 19 essays about sexuality in popular music, “Queering the Popular Pitch” (Eds. Sheila Whiteley and Jennifer Rycenga, published by Routledge). Whiteley’s essay “Popular Music and the Dynamics of Desire” on page 252 provides an informative summary, albeit with a lyrical stretch,
The heightened sense of urgency seems to resonate with Mercury’s inner turmoil, leing the security of Mary Austin (who …remained a close friend throughout his life) coming to terms with gay life (“Easy come, easy go”), and living with a man (“So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye”). Mary was, however, more perceptive than the song implies. At the time, Freddie had asked her if she thought he was bisexual. Her reply—“I don’t think you’re bisexual. I think you’re gay” provides an insight into their relationship and her continuing support.
When Queen’s gritational pull grounded their megastardom around the globe, Freddie was not openly gay, i.e., he was not “out-of-the-closet” in a public way. An openly gay rock star, especially in the United States, would he been the kiss-of-death if the fate of New York City’s glam-rock overtly gay artist Jobriath gives any clue.
Mary Austin was Freddie’s dearest friend and family-member, by default and design. His death is literally a testament to this. The Vintage News notes:
Freddie Mercury’s will dictated that Mary was left with the better part of his wealth, more than $10 million, as well as his large mansion. His mother reportedly approved his decision, stating that Mary was like a family to her.
Queen’s monetary health (especially Freddie’s) began with the success of Bo-Rap and their fourth album, “A Night at the Opera”. Such artistic and commercial acclaim made all of Queen’s men quite merry and GAY, and not merely because of the ensuing fame and pay, nor from relief at hing severed the strings from their prior managers' greed, who allegedly swindled the band, so badly it spawned Mercury’s wrath on “A Night at the Opera”’s opening track, “Death on Two Legs (Dedicated to…)”.
So was Freddie Mercury “gay”? Or was he “bi-sexual”? Is “Bohemian Rhapsody” his obvious “coming out” song? Did his “personal inclinations” he a creative impact on Queen’s music and performances for better or for worse? “Objection your honor!” Sustained. Queen still rules; Freddie sang his heart out for his fans, as much as he physically could, until the day he died. In the age of Freddie A.D., the records he been set straight: Queen’s crown as the people’s band is legendary, transcending race, creed, identity, and the crazy little thing dubbed as a “rhapsody”? Labels. EMI (and Elektra?) didn’t approve of its release. But that’s a different story, and Freddie’s sexual “label” was a private, family matter to him, released or hidden in a metaphorical artistic sense?