Ah, Queen . . . the pomp, the circumstance. The pageantry, the majesty. They could be as heavy as Black Sabbath with a tune like “Ogre Battle” and more prim, proper, and flamboyant than the Beatles ever were on “Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon.” The British band’s glorious debauchery was produced by four very unique individuals: Bassist John Deacon, a criminally underrated musician and composer whose sweet tone and inventive lines anchored Queen tunes for more than 20 years. Drummer Roger Taylor, a dynamic pounder of a timekeeper who is also an avid guitar collector and songwriter, composing such Queen standards as “I’m in Love with My Car” and “Radio Ga Ga.” Then there’s singer/songwriter/frontman extraordinaire Freddie Mercury—an impossibly talented musical powerhouse who gave us years of memorable melodies and timeless spectacle until his tragic passing in 1991. And the perfect foil for Mercury’s mercurial genius has always been Brian Harold May. His tale has been retold so many times that it has truly attained the status of folklore. As a kid who loved Hank Marvin and Cliff Richard, he began strumming a ukulele banjo of his dad’s. Quickly graduating to an acoustic guitar, May cobbled together some wire and magnets and built his own pickup to electrify it. Collaborating as a teenager with his electronics draftsman father, May took pieces of an old fireplace, a motorcycle, and a knitting needle and constructed his own guitar—a one-of-a-kind instrument that he would play exclusively his whole career. And after forming the band Smile with college friend Taylor, his music ultimately attracted the talents of Mercury and Deacon to create Queen. With that band, May would go on to forge one of the most identifiable guitar styles and tones in history. He and his bandmates would sell 300 million albums, break attendance records all over the world, and continue to thrive through countless industry shifts, impervious to fads and fashion. And, in 2007, when May had conquered every challenge the music biz had thrown his way, he took care of a little unfinished business by finally getting his PhD.

In astrophysics.

You don’t compare this guy to other musicians. You compare him to true Renaissance men like Thomas Jefferson and Leonardo da Vinci.

May’s guitar playing on Queen hits has been talked about ad nauseum. It’s instructive, therefore, to check out his work on comparatively unknown tunes—songs that didn’t get the airplay or become the centerpieces of the many Queen greatest hits collections. Listen to the gorgeous layers on “The Millionaire Waltz,” the crushing riffs and innovative burning of “It’s Late,” the soaring lines of “It’s a Hard Life,” or the stunning “Good Company” where May makes his guitar sound like an entire Dixieland band. If any other guitarist had been responsible for even a couple of these moments, he would likely be on our cover as well. These tunes constitute a world-class body of work, and they’re not even the hits!

Which brings us to said hits. If the staggering guitars in “Killer Queen,” “Bohemian Rhapsody,” “Under Pressure,” “We Are the Champions,” and “You’re My Best Friend” aren’t enough for you, you can always spin the May-penned “We Will Rock You,” “Tie Your Mother Down,” “Fat Bottomed Girls” and “Keep Yourself Alive.” This list hardly scratches the surface of what May and his bandmates have accomplished. They are shining examples of how to do things right: how to hone your craft, focus your vision, and practice your ass off until your shtick is so dialed in that no one can ignore you. They rehearsed in relative secrecy for years—despite the fact that they were killing from the get-go—and they served no song before its time. This commitment to perfection permeates everything they have done and it is apparent in every note that sings, purrs, screams, and wails from May’s homemade guitar. He is as singular an artist as we have ever seen and he breathes the rarified air of the One Note Guys: players so exceptional that you can pick them out with just a single sound. May stands deservedly tall alongside Hendrix, Van Halen, Santana, Clapton, and Beck. In a universe where everyone is unique, he is uniquer than most.

Taking a break from touring with Queen + Paul Rodgers, overseeing We Will Rock You (the Broadway show based on Queen music), and scanning the heavens, the ever-busy Dr. May spoke to GP about the latest release from the “Queen cottage industry,” Queen Rock Montreal, a concert DVD shot in 1981. The film shows the band in absolutely jaw-dropping form, with musicianship, showmanship, and magnificence in abundant supply as they run through classics as well as future classics that they were playing for the very first time. Soft-spoken and articulate, May is the consummate English gentleman, courteously apologizing for getting caught in traffic and running late. He is humble but also well aware of his and his band’s contributions. He’s not above dropping the occasional F-bomb, which somehow sounds refined and erudite in his upper-crust accent. He talked at length about his guitar, his tone, and why playing a gig is still better than getting a PhD.

The Queen Rock Montreal DVD is an absolutely stunning performance. Is that gig typical of how you guys sounded back then?
Well, yes—I suppose it’s typical of that period. It’s a little atypical inasmuch as we weren’t on tour. When you’re in the middle of a tour everything gets well oiled. You feel like you’re a very efficient machine and you can do anything you want to do. This was just two concerts put together for the purpose of making this film, so I think we’re pretty jagged. It’s very edgy, with us looking at one another wondering what’s going to happen next.

Can you elaborate a bit? What in particular seems jagged?
It was the very first time we ever played “Under Pressure,” so there’s a lot of flying by the seat of the pants going on. Obviously we had rehearsed it but that’s not the same as performing it. You can feel some tension in there. It’s good, though. In a way it’s nice to see something like that. It’s certainly a unique experience, but if you had seen that song on the tour that followed it would have been very confident.

How long had it been since you guys had performed together? 
I’m not sure. I’m guessing three or four months.

How much rehearsal did you do for the Montreal shows?
[Laughs.] I’m laughing because our rehearsals were so chaotic. We would put a lot of time in but we’d do a lot of talking and not much playing. We would drink a lot of coffee and various other things. I would guess that we put in a couple of days’ worth of rehearsals.

Talk about the chimey bell tones in the beginning of “Under Pressure.” How are the controls set on your guitar and amp for a tone like that?
I just back off a little on my guitar’s volume. The characteristics of the AC30 are such that it will get nice and clean. There’s a very smooth variation from clean to distorted sustain. To get those clean sounds I back it off just enough. As for what pickups I’m using, that would be bridge pickup and center pickup in phase. I use that setting for the “We Are the Champions” clean tones as well. The top end is there because the AC30s have such a sound—there’s nothing quite like them. I love that clear tone—nothing too piercing, just a nice clear, open sound. I have the AC30s cleaned up a little to take some of the circuitry out of them and we also keep the cables high quality, which makes a difference.

What’s the modulation effect on your “Play the Game” solo?
I have no f***ing idea. It’s probably my old Foxx phaser pedal.

Would you switch that on yourself or was it added at the board?
I would kick it in myself. The soundman just got what I gave him and that’s it. I still prefer to have things at my control. The pedalboard wasn’t that elaborate because I don’t use that many effects. I try to get the amp as close to the guitar as I can and have as little in line as possible.

You bust out your Ovation 12-string for “Love of My Life.” Are you playing that strictly with your fingers and no pick?
That’s right. I also had it strung differently with the octave strings flopped around so that I hit them first when I play upstrokes. I wanted the high notes to be prominent in the melody I played, so it made sense to have the octave strings where I could easily get to them. Stringing it that way can make problems in the nut but aside from that it works well. It’s a bit of a challenge to fingerpick on a 12-string, but I think that my philosophy is to just do what works. Listening back on it, that arrangement probably evolved very quickly. I couldn’t do the entire piano arrangement to accompany Freddie, especially when he wanted to lower the key. I think what happened is I put something together in an hour or so which would work, and then I gradually polished it into a performance. Over a few performances I usually alter my way of doing things.

The intro to “Keep Yourself Alive” doesn’t sound as effected as on the studio album.
That’s tape phasing that you’re hearing on the original. It was the very early days of tape phasing. There weren’t very many people who knew how to do it in those days. That was Mike Stone setting up some very old machines with tapes all around the room.

What are you using for the effect in Montreal?
Onstage I don’t even go through a phaser—I just go through my chorus effect which I have between the three amps. For that tune I use a different pickup setting. That’s bridge pickup and fingerboard pickup out of phase. So, I start off with a tone that sounds very phasey in the first place and has a lot of what I call “pluck” to it—there’s a lot of noise from the strings and from the coin I use as a pick. I add a little bit of chorus to that and to me it sounds just right. On the Montreal DVD I would guess that’s the Eventide. I would have two Eventide choruses and each would be completely separately wired. My guitar signal would go three ways: one straight through to the amp and then one to each chorus box. Then the output of each chorus unit goes to a separate amp so no matter how high you turn the effect up, you don’t get any intermodulation between the three. It keeps it very clean even at the highest levels.

The studio version of the “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” solo was cut with a Telecaster and a Mesa/Boogie, right?
I think so. It was Roger’s very, very early, extremely f***ing rare guitar, which I think is a Broadcaster, rather than a Tele.

A lot of people have no idea that you didn’t record that solo with your normal rig and they know instantly that it’s you. For a guy who uses such unique gear and gets such a distinctive sound, are you at all surprised at how much of your tone is in your hands?
Very interesting question. I think most people’s tone is actually in their fingers. I was quite shocked when I played with Hank Marvin. I always thought his tone was all about his guitar. He picked up my guitar and immediately it sounded like Hank Marvin. And I think we all have to expect that. There’s only so much we can do—it’s what’s in the fingers, the spirit, and the mind. I probably sound like me on any rig.

You told Guitar Player in 1983 that you weren’t comfortable sitting in with other musicians when you can’t use your own gear.
That’s still true. I am more secure than I used to be and it’s not as if I feel it would rob me of my identity, but it would make me feel very uncomfortable if I didn’t have my guitar.

Do you enjoy any of that discomfort, to maybe get into a different headspace?
Not especially, because it’s my voice. If you suddenly had to speak through some kind of voice box, you would be distracted from expressing yourself. It’s the same with the guitar. I just want it to sound the way I want it to. I want it to sound like my voice and from then on I can concentrate on what I want to say. I need to feel good about the way I sound. Then I can start talking.

Back to the “Crazy Little Thing” solo, what amp would you plug the Tele into live?
My normal rig—treble booster and AC30. When Queen tours with Paul Rodgers I don’t even play the Tele anymore. I can actually get pretty close to that sound with my guitar. It’s a lot of bother, taking guitars off and putting others on.

One of the bonus features on the DVD is your rehearsal for Live Aid. It looks like you switch pickups in the middle of the “Bohemian Rhapsody” solo. Do you always play it that way?
My god you notice some stuff, don’t you? I would have to look at that again but I’m probably just playing about and trying stuff out. I like to vary things a little. And of course it depends how I’m hearing things. Because of the way the room sounds, I might need to hear a bit more distinction and I can do that by switching pickups to get myself comfortable again.

So, if you’re not getting enough top end, say, you might switch your pickups out of phase or kick another pickup in?
Definitely. I do it for impact as well. If I want it to just hit people I’ll pull out that middle pickup and suddenly it just clangs.

Are there times when you’ll have all three pickups on at once?
I don’t use that setting very much. When all three are on there are various combinations of phase. There are four different ways I can have all three on at once: They can be all in phase, which is a very, very round sound. It’s almost too round for most occasions but I have used it. And then if you switch any one of them out of phase you get a completely different sound. It’s kind of amazing how different it is. If they’re all in phase and then you switch the fingerboard pickup out of phase, it goes very, very hollow. It sounds it bit like Buddy Holly. It sounds a bit like the Beatles as well—the sound in “Eight Days a Week” is similar to this. It’s a very hollow sound—bright and brittle—and I’ve used that for things in the past. If I put the middle pickup out of phase I get a sound that has a real cluck to it. The last of those three-pickup settings is having the bridge pickup out of phase, working against the other two, and that’s quite a sweet sound. It’s almost too sweet and I hardly ever use it. I don’t like sounds to get syrupy. I need them to have a certain—not a harshness—but a reality to them.

What are your favorite settings?
My main tone is bridge and middle pickup in phase. That’s what I use for “Tie Your Mother Down” and “We Will Rock You.” The tone I use second to the standard sound is fingerboard pickup and middle pickup out of phase. That’s what I use for the “Bohemian Rhapsody” solo. It’s quite incredible how you lose almost all the fundamental and it’s all harmonic intervals leaping out into space. I really enjoy that sound, especially when it’s turned up high, because the harmonics feed back with themselves and it’s quite an exhilarating experience.

Will you ever roll the tone control back when you use that sound?
No, I don’t use the tone control. Probably for the last 25 years I haven’t used it. I don’t know why it’s on there.

What were your impressions of your band mates when you first met them?
Roger had answered an advert that I had put on the notice board looking for a drummer that could do anything that Mitch Mitchell and Ginger Baker could do. He came down and he set up his kit with such care—properly tuning every key to bring the skins into complete harmony. I was quite amazed. And when he started to do rolls, I had never heard anything like it. He could make his drums talk. We started playing and it just gelled. I have to say, there was a sound and a blend right away. We started a lifetime relationship, which has not always been easy because it’s a very brotherly relationship and brothers usually fight. We played in a group called Smile, and Freddie was an acquaintance. He used to come out and see us play and tell us that we should do more of an act, more of a show. When Smile fell through there came a point where Freddie suggested we try it one more time with him singing. To be honest, we didn’t know if he could sing or not. We thought he was a little eccentric—a very good talker with a very flamboyant personality. We tried various bass players and the knot was finally tied with John. He did wonderfully tasteful stuff. I’ve worked with some great bass players and no one has quite had the same lyrical touch that John has. I think he’s very underrated.

Do you have a favorite John Deacon bass line?
I love what he played on “The Millionaire Waltz.”

All four of you wrote songs. How complete would the songs be when a writer would bring them in?
With all of us we would have the idea pretty much developed. John didn’t sing, so generally he would have to talk Freddie through it, but he would have very clear ideas on what he wanted. For instance, when John brought in “You’re My Best Friend,” it was pretty well mapped out—he even played the keyboard on that tune.

Would he give you direction on your guitar parts?
Oh yeah [laughs]. He would try. We would all try, but generally there would be a process of discussion. It was a good, healthy situation where we’d work together to find the best parts.

When Freddie brought in “We Are the Champions,” how long was it before you guys had the arrangement that we hear on the record?
Well, arrangement is two things: It’s what happens next, and it’s what’s happening in parallel—what the texture is at any one point. As far as what happens next, I think Freddie had that very early on. With his piano part, the song is mapped. Normally he would put down the piano part with Roger and John live and when it was good enough, after three or four takes, that would be what we used. And that’s pretty much what happened with “Champions.” At this point I’m playing around and working out what I’m going to do. I get the chance plan it in my head while I’m listening to them do the backing tracks. I’m pretty sure that I put my guitar parts down immediately after. I do have some distinct memories of this one because the verse and the chorus are very different. The chorus is very big and heavy whereas the verse is very quiet. I remember listening to it in the car the day it was to be mixed and thinking that my guitar wasn’t good enough. I told them to give me one more go, and I planned that little piece in stereo that happens in verse two which I really like. It’s that sort of bell effect between two guitars. So I know I did some extra work on that one in the light of having lived with it for a couple of weeks.

Did you have any sense that it would become such a huge hit?
Our initial sense of it was that it was something very big headed. We all looked at Fred and said, “Really?” But he had a very clear view of it. It was aimed at an audience that wanted to feel a togetherness and a power and an optimism. He knew people would sing it. “We Will Rock You” had pretty much the same philosophy. You see, this was the first album where we contemplated audience participation. Up until that point we were sort of tentative—we didn’t expect the audience to sing along, because they didn’t in those days. It was a big transition for us to realize that the audience was part of the show, and we decided to encourage that.

I would have thought that the crowd would always have sung along with tunes like “Somebody to Love” and “Love of My Life.”
No, not in the early days and especially not in America. This phenomenon started in Europe way before in the states, and I used to prefer that people didn’t sing, to be honest. I liked them to hear all the delicate nuances of what we were doing. I found it kind of annoying, as if it was getting in the way of Freddie’s vocals. It’s funny to look back on that.

You let the crowd sing most of “Love of My Life” now, and they sound really good.
They do. It’s amazing. That’s something that has swept around the world. One place I remember it happening absolutely mind-blowingly was in South America. “Love of My Life” hadn’t been released there as a single—it was just an album track. Freddie and I enjoyed playing it and we happened to play it at a very big gig in a football stadium. The whole stadium was singing along in a language that wasn’t their native language, beautifully in tune. It was quite spine chilling, I’ve got to tell you. Strangely enough, I think you can see us feeling uncomfortable when we play “Love of My Life” on the Montreal DVD because we had just come from South America, where Freddie would start the song and not have to sing a word of it. There were a few people in Montreal singing but it wasn’t the same thing at all. I think Freddie feels disgruntled with it for a second, like, “Oh my god—do I really have to do this?” It changed the whole way he delivered the song, almost as if he had something to prove and you can see it in me as well. You can see us having a little exchange onstage. I don’t recall exactly what we said but it was something like, “It’s okay. We can do it this way.” I got a strange sense of déjà vu when I saw that on the DVD.

Which version of “We Will Rock You” did you envision when you wrote it: the fast power-chord version that opens the Montreal show or the “stomp stomp clap” version on the studio album?
When I first came up with the idea, it was purely the  “stomp stomp clap” version. I wanted something which an audience could do in any situation.

How did the solo develop?
It’s interesting. I really had this desire to make something that had never been done before. Something that would leap out to people in an unusual way. You’re used to the solo being in the middle of the song and then you go back to finish up the song. I remember having this feeling that I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t want to do the correct thing. I wanted to keep the whole song very boldly basic. Then I wanted the guitar to step in and take it to a different place. I wanted it to feel jagged and it was jagged because to some extent it was unplanned. I didn’t want it to become a pop mix. I wanted it to be something that people would have to listen to and that would never be background music. So having the guitar come in at the last point—when you think the song’s over—was going to be very unexpected. I can’t really tell you more than that—you sort of go by your instincts. But I remember thinking, I don’t want to make this a normal song. It’s not normal.

The solo tone is huge sounding.
The funny thing about that tone is, I can’t reproduce it. The only way I can is with the DigiTech Red Special pedal that I developed with Eddie Kramer—they modeled that sound. To actually create that tone from scratch is quite difficult because it’s a very old AC30 which rattles. It sounds like it’s injured. I used a particular phaser—probably my old Foxx phase pedal. And then there’s the way Mike Stone miked it up. We had room mics up to catch the natural ambience. I can still remember that battered old amp standing there in the middle of a converted church, which is where we worked. It was a huge sort of woody, gothic building. Just wood and stone, so you didn’t have to use a lot of multi-tracking to get the sound of the crowd stomping or to make the guitar sound big. That solo is just a single track. I don’t even know how he did it but once you hear it, it’s quite a shock.

Talk about the intro to “Ogre Battle.” It sounds as if there are both forwards and backwards guitars.
That’s right. That was a bit of a miracle, actually. They had this massive gong in the studio that Roger hit. When we turned the tape over, the gong sounded great backwards and that sound was going to be at the beginning of the track. That got us wondering what the rest of the track would sound like backwards. Well, it sounded very similar. The riff is palindromic—it sounds the same forwards and backwards. So we decided to run the entire track backwards in the intro and then we seamlessly crossfaded it with the forwards track. I don’t think it’s even a crossfade—I think it’s a butt edit and you can’t even tell. I used my fingerboard pickup and bridge pickup out of phase for that tone.

It’s a very disturbing sound. It’s scary.
We found it scary too.

How did you develop your harmonized solo in “Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon”?
I usually hear stuff like that in my head first and then I try to emulate that on the track. I work it out, generally against the piano. But that one wasn’t too difficult. It was done very quickly because I knew what I was going to do. I think that part is just double tracked and that’s all. It’s all fingerboard pickup into the AC30 for what I call a “spoony” sound. It sounds a bit like when those old music-hall guys used to play the spoons. Actually something between that and the guy who used to play the saw with a violin bow, which is a great sound!

For the guitar choir in “All Dead, All Dead,” how many tracks are we hearing?
Quite a few. There’s multi-tracking through the AC30 and multi-tracking through the Deacy as well. It’s probably about 16 tracks.

What about the tracks that are way above the guitar’s natural range? That’s all guitar?
It’s all guitar. I got those by adjusting the tape speed. If I wanted to get a certain tone or to get above the guitar’s range we’d slow the tape down while recording. I had to play it in a particular way so that it would work when we sped it back up.

Will you change the settings on your guitar for each track when you’re building up those massive orchestrations?
On occasion I will, but generally no. They really take care of themselves. They all find their own space and I don’t generally have to do much to them.

How did you get the sustain on those parts? It almost sounds like an EBow.
Normally it would have been natural sustain. That’s the way I prefer to do it. I don’t remember using an EBow on that song. I’ve definitely used EBows to play around onstage and had a great time. But in the studio I just put myself in the exact position to get each note to feed back and sustain.

You mentioned the Deacy, the little solid-state amp that John Deacon built. What are some other songs that amp has appeared on?
Oh god—too many to mention. “God Save the Queen,” the harmony parts in “Fairy Feller’s Master-Stroke,” the multi-part bit of the “Killer Queen” solo before the main solo part begins as well as the entire harmony counterpoint under the last chorus of that song, and many more. The Deacy parts always sound more like brass or strings. The AC30 ones sound like . . . guitars

Your solo in “It’s Late” features some rare, pre-1978 two-handed tapping. How come you never pursued that?
Eddie Van Halen asked me that same question. He was very interested in that. That idea came to me because I was in a bar in Texas and there was this guy—I wish I could remember his name. He was playing a solo and suddenly on went his right hand to the fretboard and he produced this yodeling sound that I thought was amazing—just an incredible extension of what the guitar can do. I went up to him afterwards and said, “That’s great! I’m going to nick it!” His answer to me was “I got it from Billy Gibbons.” But I’ve heard a lot of Billy Gibbons and I don’t remember ever finding it.

I believe he does it in “Beer Drinkers and Hell Raisers.”
OK—mystery solved then. When I went home, I started playing around with it—putting my right-hand finger on and pulling that finger off while also doing hammer-ons and pull-offs with my left hand. When it came time to cut that solo, it seemed like a good opportunity to try it out because I was looking for something different—something off the wall. Having done it, I liked it, but I was sitting down when I did it. I didn’t find it so easy to play onstage standing up so I kind of got off the idea. I thought it was fine for that track but I didn’t care to pursue it. I didn’t think it was that important until later when a certain genius in the world made it into an art form. I want to say this very clearly: Eddie is a god and always will be. It’s not just his technique, it’s also his color and spirit. But his technique is brilliant.

What are some of your favorite Brian May moments after all these years?
I like the “Killer Queen” solo—I feel very proud of that. That was a dream fulfilled, because I always wanted to do something that could stand up as a three-voice solo. I still enjoy listening to that one. There’s a certain amount of pre-planned playing but it contains a certain amount of creativity as well. So I like the sound of it and I like the track all the way through. As a pop record, to me it’s almost perfect. There’s so much space in it and because of the space everything sounds big and clear and beautiful. A lot of that is due to Freddie’s big vision to bring it together. Considering how much there is on that track, it’s incredible how clear it is. In the last chorus there’s a whole phalanx of guitars doing counterpoint and you can still hear everything—little bell cymbals and stuff. I think it has to be my favorite. One of the last things I did under the name of the old Queen, if you like, was a track off the Made in Heaven album called “A Winter’s Tale.” I had plenty of time to think about it because we had lost Freddie when we were making that album and we wondered what we would do with the tracks. So I worked very hard with the old Deacy amplifier and some other effects as well. I wanted the guitar to sound like it was in heaven. I’m pleased with how that turned out. I also like “Bijou” off Innuendo. I worked very closely with Freddie on that. He had a lot to do with the guitar line and I had a lot to do with the vocal lines. It’s sort of a song turned inside out. Usually the song has a solo in the middle but, in this case, it’s an instrumental guitar song and the voice takes a solo in the middle.

That tune really shows your Jeff Beck influence.
Oh yeah. I idolize Jeff.

When people talk about your playing, they typically focus on your tone, but your vibrato and bends are just as distinctive. What can you say about that?
Let me think about this. I suppose my philosophy is that it’s all about being connected. It’s not a question of being technical about bends. It’s pushing the string and feeling it in your fingers and feeling the tension and somehow it all relates to the body. If your fingers are actually connected to your soul, then you don’t have to think about anything. You don’t have to think about the workings of the machine, so to speak, you just do it. I suppose that’s my aim. I want my fingers to react to the way I feel and really that’s all there is to it.

What’s more exciting to you now, playing Wembley or getting your PhD?
It’s a very different kind of excitement. To me there’s great fulfillment in getting the PhD because it was hanging over me as a shadow in the background all those years while I was playing guitar. I kept thinking, “Wouldn’t it be nice if that great pile of papers in my loft actually turned into something useful?” So it’s a wonderful feeling of accomplishment. But there is nothing like playing guitar on stage. Your whole mind, body, and soul are bound in that moment. You’re asking me to make a choice and if I had to choose it would be those live moments, shared with a great group of people. It really would have to be that.

Refurbishing and Replicating the Red Special

Greg Fryer began repairing and building guitars in Australia back in 1980, working with local and touring acts such as INXS, Midnight Oil, and Pink Floyd. Fascinated with Brian May’s gear and tone from an early age, Fryer began studying everything he could get his hands on about May’s guitar and signal chain, which ultimately led to him becoming May’s go-to guy for Red Special copies and repairs. For more info on Greg Fryer's many Brian May-related products, visit fryerguitars.com.

How did you come to work on the Red Special?
In 1996, I approached Brian through his management with the objective of making Brian the most accurate replica of his Red Special to date, a guitar that he would consider worthy of using as a spare. After meeting with him to discuss the project, I spent a year and a half researching and building three replicas at my workshop in Sydney. I arrived back in London in late 1997 with the guitars, which Brian named John, Paul, and George Burns. I ended up keeping Paul, whilst John is Brian’s main backup for the Red Special, and George Burns is the main dropped-D tuning guitar for songs like “Fat Bottomed Girls.” I was very honored that Brian was pleased with the quality of my instruments, and he then decided it was time to commence the repair work on his famous original guitar.

What state was his guitar in when you got it?
Some areas were in surprisingly good shape considering the Red Special had hardly been touched repair-wise during 30 hard years of playing around the world. Other areas were barely hanging on, and there were also many general repair/maintenance things needed. All the work was conducted at Brian’s studio near London, and many of the tasks were either assisted or supervised by him.

As we began to take the instrument apart and discussed the general approach to the repairs that were needed, Brian’s confidence grew in what should be tackled, and consequently the list of items to be repaired grew. Some of these required unconventional approaches and materials because of the unconventional nature of how Brian and his dad Harold built the guitar in the first place.

Were you nervous to be working on such an iconic instrument?
Nervous? Handling a legendary guitar that wasn’t insured, worth millions of pounds, irreplaceable, and in a delicate condition? I can tell you—I needed a strong drink after some of those days!

But, all jokes aside, I realized full well that it was a privilege to be working with Brian and his great guitar tech Pete Malandrone, and that I had a responsibility to be as consistent and reliable as possible, and to not be nervous otherwise the results would suffer. It was always helpful having Brian and Pete around to discuss things with. They were very gracious hosts indeed.

Describe the repairs you performed on it.
I took the pickups completely apart, panel beat the covers—which had suffered from years of sixpence abuse—improved the pickups’ shielding, and applied a two-stage wax process to improve resistance to vibration and microphonic feedback.

For the neck, I used mahogany dowel to fill various screw holes, put on Schaller locking tuners, and replaced the red wooden dot marker at the 5th fret with a handmade mother of pearl dot. I also did various lacquer repairs, overcoated the whole neck with Rustin’s Plastic Coating, and inlaid new side dots.

For the body, I repaired and reglued the binding, repaired the veneer in several places, and overcoated it with Rustin’s Plastic Coating.

I repaired the broken section of the scratchplate, filled and re-drilled the holes for the pots, filled the little square, and inlaid the mother-of-pearl “Maystar.” I put copper shielding on the underside of the scratchplate and made new pickup surrounds and glued them to the scratchplate.

I shielded the control cavity with copper tape, renewed sections of the wiring, and cleaned the switches, pots, and output jack.

I also cleaned up, de-rusted, lubricated, and reset the vibrato tailpiece.

What was Brian’s reaction when he got it back?
Because Brian was there witnessing the work all along, the finished result didn’t come as a surprise, but I was still very relieved that Brian was really pleased with it. To him the guitar still felt the same, and our objective of course was to keep the exact feel and sound as before.

[See photos to the right of this article.]