~1983. I was hanging out over at the house of a neighbor kid's, and we were listening to his new "jam box," as we had been told it was called. Zounds! A radio, integral cassette player and recorder, with a pair of 6" speakers and, most impressive to my 11 year old self, a 3-band graphic equalizer. Wowie.
So, as we sat listening to my buddy's rock album, his older brother came in, and gave us a measure of crap for listening to "that gay band." We were up in arms. No, we didn't even play the "not that there's anything wrong with that" card-- we just denied that it could be the case. This particular song that we were listening to was tough! Edgy! The singer was talking about kicking some butt! How could you think anyone in that band was homosexual? They didn't even exhibit the classic gay features (whatever those were. I guess to wear a pink lace dress. I didn't exactly know what I was talking about.).
Looking back, I might have been in error.
The band? Queen. The song we used to defend their heterosexual chops with? "Another One Bites The Dust." Maybe I would have figured it out, if I had seen this live performance.
Ol' Freddy sure 'nuff was a showman, wudn't he?