Queen
– The Game
Queen had nothing left to prove. They’d scaled operatic heights, disco detours, and stadium rock’s sprawling peaks. The Game isn’t the band’s grandest statement, but it is their tightest—ten tracks, no filler, and a fresh grip on what it means to be massive without always being majestic. This is Queen trimming the fat and still showing up with swagger to burn.
Best of…
They embraced the synthesizer—finally—and rather than drowning in it, they let it flirt around the edges. The result? An album that balances grit and groove with more restraint than you’d expect. Freddie Mercury stays playful, theatrical, but more human. Brian May leans into texture as much as tone. Roger Taylor and John Deacon? Anchors, both—keeping the ship steady even as it veers into funk, rockabilly, and pop.
The Game is Queen tossing the rulebook and realizing the only thing left to conquer was themselves. It’s not a reinvention; it’s a realignment. One last breath before the ‘80s swept them into different waters, but here, they’re still unified, sharp, and deadly precise.
Choice Tracks
Play the Game
Opens the album with a deceptive gentleness, building into a sweeping declaration of emotional surrender. Mercury’s voice floats, pleads, and then belts, proving—again—that drama is his first language.
Dragon Attack
A funk-rock monster. John Deacon’s bass struts through a haze of late-night bravado, while May shreds like he’s half Hendrix, half Bond villain. This track doesn’t care if you dance or throw punches—it just keeps moving.
Another One Bites the Dust
Deacon’s minimalist bassline changed Queen’s trajectory and turned them into dancefloor overlords. It’s cold, it’s cocky, and it still slaps. Mercury rides the groove with deadpan menace, proving less really is more.
Crazy Little Thing Called Love
Freddie goes Elvis, and somehow it works. It shouldn’t, but it does. A rockabilly pastiche that’s all charm and smirk, it’s a lark that became a hit—and a reminder Queen could play any style straight and still own it.
Save Me
Brian May’s songwriting moment, and it lands like a heartbreak hangover. The piano intro is wounded, Mercury’s vocals ache, and the guitar solo cuts just enough. One of their most honest ballads.