The first time I celebrated Brian May's birthday was in 1992. At that point in time, I had been in my Queen phase for over a year, with no end in sight. Brian May was largely responsible for my Queen phase because of an interview I had heard with him on the fabulous Z-Rock. And it wasn't really the interview itself; it was the reaction to the interview that lured me into the world of being a Queen fan.
Z-Rock, by the way, was the greatest radio station in the world. It was a metal station based out of Dallas, but they had nationwide affiliates, so they were able to bring the country together with metal. Nothing made my teenaged lifestyle complete like being able to start every morning with a little Circus Of Power or Jetboy, followed up by a golden favorite like Queen Of The Reich. Z-Rock rocked my world.
Anyway, one day after school I was listening to Z-Rock, and Brian May was in the studio. So was the studio audience. The deejay pointed out that they did not usually have an audience for interviews, but these two guys were special. They had been listening to Z-Rock on their local affiliate the day before and heard that Brian May was going to be in the studio the very next day. So they got in the car and drove to Dallas. From Cleveland. Let me repeat that. Two guys drove from Cleveland to Dallas to meet Brian May. According to a map I just looked at, that is 1216 miles.
Those two guys ruled. They were my instant heroes. They knew a thing or two about being rock fans. But of course, the proper credit needs to be given to their hero, Brian May. He inspired devotion in those guys that made me pay close attention to that interview, and made me look into listening to Queen. And that's working out fairly well so far.
So anyway, one year later I was working at the dry cleaners, and realized that it was Brian May's birthday. (This, of course, was the same dry cleaners where I was working the day I heard on Z-Rock that Izzy had left Guns N' Roses and I cried. But I digress.) So I called up Linda and said, "It's Brian May's birthday." "We should have baked cupcakes!" was her answer. And I considered his birthday celebrated.
That's pretty much what I do every year. I call somebody, and leave a message that it's Brian May's birthday, and tell them that they should drink a Guinness in Brian's honor. I don't feel the need to, say, hold a barbecue or something for Brian May's birthday. But I like him to be acknowledged, because he should be, because he's Brian May! He rules! (And don't think I wouldn't like to have a barbecue. But no one would show up because it would be a Queen-themed barbecue and I don't know any truly insane Queen fans. Okay, the Pirate would show up. Probably.)
Here is a list, in no particular order, of the reasons I love Brian May.
Before the Pirate left town, we were going to make a list of fifty-five things we loved about Brian May. The fifty-five things that made him fifty-five and fabulous. And then we realized that there would be overlap with the Brian May list and the Jazz list. Then we also realized that it would end up being a list of five things about the man, and then fifty instances of riffs and solos that we love, and that isn't a very interesting read. An uninteresting read is not a very fitting tribute for someone who is fifty-five and fabulous today.
Go have your own tribute to Brian May. Right now. Call some people up and tell them to drink a Guinness. Play a Queen record. (Or, go buy a Queen record, then play a Queen record.) Get a perm. Buy some clogs. Do something, anything, to show the world that it's Brian May's birthday and he is fabulous. We should have baked cupcakes.