Looking through my
motley collection of vinyl singles the other day, it struck me how different
were their reasons for being there. Some
sit there anonymously as if I’d never bought them at all and they had just
sneaked in by chance during a dark night, yet others are full of pride and
bursting to tell their story. One of
those eager storytellers is ‘Now I’m Here’ by Queen.
In the early 1970s
I had become a fully fledged album buyer after spending much of the late
sixties amassing a small, yet top quality (ahem) singles collection but as I
became a student at University in the autumn of 1974 the restrictions of a
student grant (remember them?) meant that in order to satisfy my rampant music
possession syndrome urge I had to reduce myself yet again to a singles buyer.
This was a pain in
the backside yet it did lead to my purchase of Queen’s ‘Now I’m Here’ in early
‘75, which if memory serves, was the first Queen record I ever bought. Now, the second issue I was faced with was
this: not wanting to uproot my beloved stereo system, I didn’t have a record
player with me – only a tape player and a load of LPs hastily transferred to
cassette the previous summer. True, my
first year room mate had brought with him an ancient autochanger-in-a-box, the
sort of kit that every sixties teenager owned in order to annoy the older
generation with the new-fangled beat music.
But it was his, not mine.
So the reason this
single has its very own back story is partly because it didn’t get played very
much…until I went home for the weekend, that is. In my first year, I went home for a weekend
once or twice a term. Of course this
didn’t happen at all after the first few terms as life away from home became infinitely
preferable to life at home but that’s another story and probably one that
everyone knows. I always managed to
arrive home about midday on the Friday when the house was empty, all occupants
still being at work or school and this was the moment that ‘Now I’m Here’ came
into its own.
My own prized
stereo system still sat in my room and I cranked it up to ‘11’ to play my still
pristine Queen single. It’s a great rock
number in anyone’s book but at deafening volume in an empty house it sounded
sublime. You could even play a bit of
air guitar and leap around without anyone seeing. This is what teenage years were made
for. Brilliant.
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