Queen almost didn't accept Geldof’s invitation. For one thing, they were worn out from touring all spring. When Geldof and Ure left Queen off an earlier fundraiser, the Band Aid single “Do They Know It’s Christmas?,” Mercury remarked to his bandmates, “I’m a bit old,” according to Blake’s book. May recalled to Blake, “We definitely hesitated about doing Live Aid. Not just Freddie. We had to consider whether we were in good enough shape to do it. It would have been easier not to do it as the chances of making fools of ourselves were so big.”
Against that backdrop, their motivations appear not to have been purely philanthropic. “I don’t think they were there purely for charity reasons,” says Blake, quickly adding, “but I don’t think other bands were either. If you had a good Live Aid, that did wonders for your career.” In fact, when a BBC interviewer asked Queen later if they were playing to support the cause or because they didn’t want to miss out, Mercury replied candidly, “A bit of both.”
Meanwhile, Mercury had bigger concerns: Though he wouldn’t be diagnosed until 1987, the singer had in 1982 sought medical treatment after he began showing symptoms of HIV. (It’s been widely reported that he performed the benefit concert against his doctor’s orders while suffering a severe throat infection; Blake isn’t quite so sure of that, saying Mercury might have played it up for the sake of drama.) At the time, the disease was still a death sentence, so Mercury would have known that his days—and performances—were numbered. He would die six years later from bronchial pneumonia resulting from AIDS.
Once they accepted Geldof’s invitation, the band left nothing to chance. Over three full days at London’s Shaw Theatre, they painstakingly rehearsed their set, opting for a medley that would deliver maximum crowd satisfaction—namely, the high moments of six of the band’s hits: “Bohemian Rhapsody,” “Radio Ga Ga,” “Hammer To Fall,” “Crazy Little Thing Called Love,” “We Will Rock You” and, the grand finale, the über-anthemic “We Are the Champions.”
When the day came, some 70,000 fans (including Prince Charles and Princess Diana) packed into Wembley, while an estimated 1.5 billion watched the television broadcast—on the BBC in the UK, on ABC in the U.S., and on upstart network MTV. If their spring tour had left Queen depleted, it didn’t show. Mercury took charge from the start, bounding joyfully onto the stage and commanding the audience from the opening grand-piano strains of “Bohemian Rhapsody.” From there out, they executed the medley flawlessly, with a sneaky boost from their sound engineer, Trip Khalaf. In a 1999 interview, drummer Taylor revealed that Khalaf had tweaked the sound system so that “we were louder than anyone else.”
And Mercury was not only loud, but proud. Sporting tight, high-waisted jeans and a white tank top, accessorized with matching studded black leather belt and armband, he strutted, preened and fist-pumped, owning the stage with a high-octane, camp energy. He wielded a cut-off microphone stand as an air guitar, as a baton and occasionally, in much more suggestive ways. At one point, he led the crowd in a rousing 30-second a cappella call-and-response sequence, starting “aaay-o,” that dramatically showcased his four-octave range. It has come to be called “the note heard around the world.”