Live Aid: when David Bowie, Pete Townshend and Bob Geldof needed to save Paul McCartney
When I think of Wembley Stadium, I think of three people: Gareth Southgate, Eberechi Eze, and Freddie Mercury. While the former two are responsible for some of my fondest football memories, the third is simply for the image of him standing on stage at Live Aid, in a white vest, delivering one of the most talked-about performances in history.
The image of Mercury standing with his feet open wide and arm aloft is a part of music iconography. It’s a window into a gig that saw Mercury have 72,000 people in the palm of his hand. A phrase used borderline too frequently in the music industry, but never as fitting as in the context of Mercury’s performance.
They hung on his performance of every note, as he delivered flawless renditions of his multirange rock operas. A sense of uninterrupted awe that was punctuated by thrilling games of crowd participation that culminated in him conducting 72,000 people to sing “Ay-Oh” back at him. By 1985, Queen’s legacy was somewhat cemented, but by the closing song of their contribution to the benefit, it was completed along with Mercury’s place as the world’s most captivating frontman.
But in understanding the greatness of that show, it’s important to remember that it was, after all, a contribution. Mercury and Queen’s name sat in a bill that included Paul McCartney, Elton John, The Who and David Bowie. All of whom were set to follow Queen in the lineup and were thus unfairly given a musical mountain to climb. While Mercury, of course, respected his peers, he had little to no sympathy in terms of paving a way for their greatness to be absorbed later that night.
Of course, Paul McCartney was the natural headliner for a charity gig of this magnitude, and the song he would close with was the even more fitting ‘Let It Be’. On paper, that alone should have been enough to draw monster crowds, but after the mammoth performance by Queen, suddenly, it became all the more daunting for the Beatles, who had their work cut out to prove he was worthy of the top spot.
But it seemed as though the music gods had already decided it would be Mercury who would be remembered, as McCartney’s chance to outdo the Queen frontman was cut down by a faulty microphone. The concert’s organiser remembered the fateful moment, recalling “Paul asked me which song he should do and I said ‘Let It Be’, because it’s a benediction,” he says. “Then his mic fails and Pete Townshend grabs me from one side and says, ‘Let’s help him,’ and David Bowie grabs me from the other, and with Alison Moyet we went out to sing along.”
As McCartney’s philanthropic anthem failed to play out over an onlooking crowd, it was his fellow legends who preceded his performance, but followed Mercury’s, who quickly ran to his aid. For with every second of ‘Let It Be’ wasted, they saw another nail hammered into the cause of making Queen the undisputable champions of the day.
