In the one of those weird coincidences that so often occur in everyday life, I was thinking earlier about this being the last full week of Mo-vember, and how Freddie Mercury had a great moustache. And then I learned, or was reminded, that today is the 19th anniversary of Freddie's death.
I still lament the sad, closeted girl that I had the misfortune of encountering at school who asked me who Queen were. They are one of those bands that you grow up listening to if your parents have any good sense at all (I grew up on a diet of Queen, Tracy Chapman, Nina Simone, Tina Turner, Genesis and Vivaldi. Just for good measure) and they're one of those rare bands who have, in their extensive repetoire, at least one song for everyone.
Freddie knew he was dying when he wrote this song, which makes it all the more poignant. It breaks my heart a little every time I hear it, because it's so full of hope for someone who knew his number was up, who knew he'd given it his all and who, in his life and in his legacy, touched and continues to touch the lives of so many people. And who, truly, went out on a cruel, untimely high note.