Brian May and his magic fingers on stage with Queen

My dad has always been a bit of a rocker. With long hair tied back in a ponytail and a penchant for battered leather jackets, sunglasses and almost unacceptably tight jeans, my friends always exclaim after meeting him – “wow, your dad looks so cool!” Now, every time we see each other, he tells me (or tries to tell me, as I’ll often cut him off) about new young rock bands he’s into. Last summer it was Klaxons and Enter Shikari, this summer I’m not so sure, as he has been warned enough times to know it’s just not okay to talk about it.

I’m just bitter because I remember the days of being really young, my hippie parents with their walls and piles of vinyl of what I then considered as really old rock, “dad” rock. The Clash, Pixies, Yes, The Who, The Police, The Grateful Dead, Stones, Ramones, Queen, Zeppelin, Bad Company, Pink Floyd, Marley, Petty, Springsteen… damn, those were the days! I remember being at a barbecue in our back yard one summer, my parents had loads of friends over, people were smoking and dancing and drinking Pimms and this great music flowing through the house. I was sitting on a huge bean bag, I must’ve only been about five or six (everyone was wearing denim, so it was definitely early 90s), and I slowly fell asleep, the happiest my little head and heart could handle.

I woke up fifteen years later to my dad pushing a flimsy plastic CD in my face by some punk rock band called Gallows who were apparently changing the face of mainstream music. A menacing hybrid of hardcore punk and aggressive rock, the Black Flag of the 21st century had just been signed to a major label and literally EVERYONE was clinging to the hope that they were going to bring the amazing, revolutionary rock of the 70s and 80s back and kick out the bubblegum bullshit that’d filled the years since then. Nothing against Gallows, but I was skeptical. After all, it’s two years later and they still haven’t really done it.

Last week I received a DVD of a live concert by Queen and Paul Rodgers (formerly of Free and Bad Company), recorded in Ukraine last September and broadcast live to over two million people. I’m watching the show unfold as I type and keep returning my attention to the screen to see Brian May do wonderful things on his guitar. Bearing in mind the band no longer have once beloved frontman Freddie Mercury with them, 350,000 Ukrainians turned up in Freedom Square for this gig. There are signs that read “QUEEN SAVED US”, and, simply, “THANK YOU” in the crowd, which is all ages – from my own generation to my father’s. The energy possessed by the band, who now have white hair and wrinkly faces, in incredible; they play for two hours without stopping, totally feeling the vibe of the music and getting off on the crowd’s unanimous inexplicable joy. It’s a classic performance by a genre-defining group; something I’d struggle to say about any gig I’ve been to over the past few years.

My dad, meanwhile, won’t stop listening to Gallows and Enter Shikari and lord knows what else. It’s odd the way he says that 70s were the best time for music and yet he rarely uses the old record player. Perhaps he does in secret, but even if he doesn’t, I sure miss “dad rock”. It might not be a genre recognised by the NME but it’s how I’ll always refer to the bands my dad used to play me to sleep.

Queen and Paul Rodgers – Live in Ukraine is out now