We’ve had a few requests to post some more pictures from the production process of the book, most notably of the original tin of Rustins clear coating that was first seen in the second installment of Simon Bradley’s Behind The Scenes report.

So, as a precursor to the fourth part of the story that we’ll be posting very soon, here are three snaps taken by Simon, one of the tin of Rustins and the remaining two shot on the day the team totally dismantled the Red Special.

The book describes, in detail, how Brian used the Rustins during the construction of the Red Special and the fact that we can still handle the original tin today is quite incredible.

Here it is: the original tin of Rustins clear coating used by Brian all those years ago on the body of the Red Special

Here the team is setting up a full shot of the Red Special prior to the dismantling process. Photographed on a white background, the camera is suspended above the guitar and the images captured displayed on the laptop in the foreground

Finally, as a taster for the next part of the Behind The Scenes story, here’s the Red Special stripped down to its component parts. This truly fascinating undertaking was just about to get really scary as luthier Andrew Guyton prepared to reassemble the guitar

Here’s part three of collaborating author Simon Bradley’s account of what it took to get the book ‘Brian May’s Red Special: The Story of the Home-Made Guitar That Rocked Queen and the World’ to the shelves.

This time it’s all about the writing process, what it took to put numerous drafts together from the raw material obtained during the interview as described in Part Two and how they were refined. There’s also the tale how some dark days were ultimately rescued by Brian himself.

The story also contains some astronomy…

The words are all Simon’s, as are the majority of the photographs, unless otherwise stated.

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In the Good Old Days™ on Guitarist, we’d use a transcription machine. You’d pop in the cassette upon which you’d recorded the interview into said contraption, don a set of headphones and – this is the clever part – use a foot pedal to play and rewind the tape, leaving both hands free to clatter away at the keyboard. If you set the playback to just the right speed, you could type at the same velocity at which the interviewee was speaking and you’d be done in short order.

Oh, and use a professional transcription service? Well, I’m sure there are plenty of good ones out there, but the three we’ve had experience with on Guitarist were all terrible. ‘DVD King’, ‘Eric Clacton’ and ‘Washbasin Guitars’, rather than ‘BB King’, ‘Eric Clapton’ and ‘Washburn Guitars’, are just a trio of comedy transcription errors made. I just couldn’t be doing with that: Tie Your Brother Clown just wouldn’t suffice.

Digital technology has dispensed with such clunky and cobweb–festooned practices in favour of the altogether more ‘convenient’ method of recording an interview into any number of audio formats; .wavs, .aiffs, .wtfs and, if you’re lucky, .mp3s. By the way, one of those formats is made up…

Transcribe me now, bitch!
Pic (c) S Bradley

My digital recording thingy spits out .wavs so I spent the first weekend of what I call, in hindsight, the Transcription Purgatory Death Smash, converting them into a format my MacBook could deal with without pulling a tantrum. I slowed them down in good old Garage Band and cleaned them up and boosted their levels as I went and, from there it was simply a case of, well, transcribing them. It was also here that extra care needed to be taken.

Accuracy is paramount regardless of the interviewee in question. I’m not a tabloid journo, neither am I paparazzi: I strive for making any transcription as close as possible to what was actually said. I knew I had to be able to check what I’d written at any given time when anyone – the publishers, my editor, Brian – asked, and I couldn’t afford to be caught out paraphrasing, adding embellishments or missing what could turn out to be a vital piece of detail.

Those 10 .mp3s took a five-night week, plus an entire weekend, to get done, followed by two complete listen-throughs to ensure what I’d got on paper was exactly what Brian had said. Each was also peppered with time-markers, just in case a quick fact-checking referral was required. I didn’t fancy trawling through the audio to find exactly where Brian had talked about a particular part of the guitar’s construction process to check anything, and the marker system has held me in good stead ever since. ‘Where does Brian talk about Dave Dilloway?’ asked one of Brian’s team months after I’d submitted a draft. 5m 03s in to ‘Brian_2.mp3’, I think you’ll find.

The first draft. A long way to go yet
Pic (c) S Bradley

Putting a first draft together was actually the easy part. The interview had been planned to fit into a chapter list and it was just question of putting square-shaped lumps of copy into their sibling chapter holes. I say easy; it took another two weeks, but as each chapter began to take shape, metaphorically blinking in the light of a new dawn, I began to realise that this was going to be a hell of a book.

Brian had given me his story of the Buckingham Palace Roof performance, all 6,178 words of it, over 18 months previously and I’d had it subbed and styled soon afterwards. After producing, I think, seven drafts and revamping, rewriting and re-evaluating every single word many times over the course of a few weeks, a first final draft was ready to go. My editor and I, with positive input from several others, had refined and expanded the chapter list (although some of those first chapters bear little resemblance to those that reside in the finished book), and I submitted an official first final draft on 23^rd August 2013.

Mmm… drafty
Pic (c) S Bradley

Pete Malandrone read it and loved it, and my editor Roland, who’s been a rock throughout this whole process, was also positive. The one person who wasn’t especially impressed was the most important: Brian. He didn’t understand why it was written in the first person, what the book was trying to achieve and how it all linked together. In short, he didn’t get it and told me so in no uncertain terms.

There it is. Brian? Not yet a fan… Note the book’s original working title
Pic (c) S Bradley

Right… Needless to say, I was gutted. I’d hoped that he would have been as enthused by the book as others had been, but, in hindsight, it’s this dedication to absolute perfection that’s made him what he is. Think the solo to Bohemian Rhapsody was just thrown down in one afternoon? Certainly not and he’s never been prepared to let anything go until he’s wholly happy with it, be it that wonderful piece of music or a book dedicated to the instrument on which it was played. What’s more, it’s his name on the cover, so it’s absolutely his right to voice reservations, and it was now up to me to look at the book again and make it something he could get behind.

Luckily, chance stepped in. A planned trip to the Roque de los Muchachos Observatory in the Canaries had fallen through, and Brian had some unexpected free time. Why didn’t I come down to the house and we could discuss our – well, my – options? ‘Great idea!’ I said and, less than two weeks later, I found myself in Brian’s office, surrounded by my papers and both of us tapping away at our laptops, brainstorming new chapter concepts and an improved approach that we could both subscribe to.

Four hours later, I had a new plan and we were off and running again. Brian’s input had been invaluable and I’d never have thought of some of the things he suggested. One was to have the book’s introduction written by me and another was to have short intros to each chapter, but all made the book better, much better. That’s world experience for you.

In amongst all this high industry was a very personal moment, one that I look back on as fondly as any other I’ve experienced, at least professionally. Brian was still getting back on his feet – literally – after knee surgery and every hour he’d get up and move around, just to keep himself from getting too sore. He suggested that we go outside to get some air (cerebrally jousting with a man of Brian’s intellect is, for someone who just scraped CSE Maths, an exhausting process and it was hot in that room, so I gratefully agreed) and, as it was about 5pm by this point, it was getting dark. Ever the astronomer, he spotted a bright object in the evening sky and went back inside to grab his telescope, one, ironically, he’d built with his dad prior to tackling the Red Special…

The planet Venus, yesterday
Pic (c) Planetsofthesolarsystem.net

Now, I’d glibly assumed that the light was a 747 coming in to Heathrow, but no; turns out it was the planet Venus. So, I’m peering though the viewpiece of Brian’s childhood, home-made telescope while he enthusiastically tells me various factoids about the planet, its orbit, its position in the sky at various times of the year, all the good stuff. Me, doing astronomy with Dr Brian May, looking at Venus an’ all. That’s one to tell the grandkids about.

Anyway, I finally submitted the officially-approved final draft to Carlton Books in February 2014: layouts and the assigning of pictures were next. It was all coming together, but would Brian like it?

*Cue EastEnders drums…

The pictures used on this blog are either mine or used with the permission of the copyright owner. If you feel you have to take and use them elsewhere, a credit would be nice and presumably you’ve bought a copy of the book, yeah?

The December issue of Total Guitar magazine features a five star review of ‘Brian May’s Red Special’. Written by Rob ‘Goose’ Laing, the magazine has generously given us permission to share the review here, which we appreciate.

Each month, TG brings interviews with the world best players, plus features, equipment reviews and a whopping guitar techniques section, plus coverage of the world’s best books…

Review (c) Total Guitar/Future. Reproduced with permission

Here’s the second part of collaborating author Simon Bradley’s account of what it took to get the book ‘Brian May’s Red Special: The Story of the Home-Made Guitar That Rocked Queen and the World’ to the shelves.

In this episode he describes the planning process of the book’s detailed content, from an embryonic chapter list to wrestling with the reams of raw material. He also gives an insight on what it took to meticulously plan, schedule and ultimately conduct a marathon interview with Brian from which the heart of the book’s content would emerge.

How would it all go down? Read on…

The words are all Simon’s, as are the majority of the photographs, unless otherwise stated.

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Pictures is Easy; Words is Hard…

The book was always going to be written in the first person. In fact, that was the first thing I wrote in my little planning notebook when I began to grapple with the whole concept. I didn’t think anyone wanted to hear anything from me, but would much prefer reading about the guitar as if Brian was telling the tale himself. As it turned out much later, Brian wouldn’t agree, but we’ll get to that.

For now, I knew that I’d need a hefty chunk of Brian’s time in order to obtain all the detail required for such a focussed book, but arranging an interview with his office was still a way down the line. First I needed a plan, and the way to tackle that, irrespective of subject, is to come up with a chapter list. I knew that we’d need to talk about his childhood, so that was one chapter; how the guitar was conceived and designed would comprise another; and how it was actually built, a third. Brian had informed us that he specifically wanted his personal account of the performance atop Buckingham Palace in there too, and there were other areas we also needed to visit. In short, I came up with six chapters, each with a clever title (‘Father To Son’ was a shoo-in; others took more time to concoct) and a short synopsis and, once this framework had been approved by my publisher and all the rather dirty money stuff had been worked out, I began working on the interview itself. It was down to me to put flesh on dem bones.

Here I was on familiar ground. I’ve interviewed many guitarists of varying levels of fame during my time with Guitarist magazine and have consequently learned that, for me, there are two basic methods of obtaining the perfect interview. If you’re a journalism graduate (and I am a world of not), you’re taught to come up with a concept, break it down into no more than four bulletpoints, divide the number of available pages by the amount of time you have with said icon, calculate the square root and that’s the number of questions you need to come up with (this might be a lie). As a guitarist who sort of fell into writing for a living back in 1993, however, I’ve always employed the rather more mundane yet no less effective Coloured Pen Approach™ and did so now. I assigned each chapter its own hue, worked out what I wanted to cover and came up with questions accordingly, denoting their relevance to a specific chapter with the aforementioned method. Simples. That colour-blotted, Arnold Rimmer-like plan became my template for the entire writing process (well, until the editing scimitars got to work…).

The Coloured Pen Approach in all its glory
Pic © S Bradley

One thing you don’t do is sit there in front of Brian May (or anyone else, come to that) and just make it up as you go along. I learned the questions and, more importantly, their order, virtually by rote and planned the interview to such an extent that, if Brian answered a particular enquiry one way, I knew how to get him back to the core of the grilling by nudging him with a specific question. I was aware that speaking in intimate detail about his parents and childhood, let alone the guitar and Queen, would be a draining experience for Brian. ‘Don’t cock it up’ was the unspoken advice, and I didn’t intend to.

After a couple of scheduling clashes, the interview was confirmed for a hot summer’s day in August 2013 at Brian’s Surrey offices. I had him for ‘the whole afternoon’, which, considering he’s busier than ever these days, was a real bonus.

One of two cameras used for the shoot
Pic © S Bradley

I’ve interviewed Brian several times since 1998, so I’d assumed/hoped that the afternoon would follow the established pattern: we’d sit somewhere quiet on a couple of comfy chairs, both of us nursing cups of tea, I’d press ‘record’ on my digital recording thingy, and just chat. Well, not so fast. Others had taken advantage of Brian’s availability and it had been decided that the interview would also be filmed for use in the digital domain in due course. Now, this didn’t concern me at all – in fact, I relished the additional pressure – but it would unavoidably alter the vibe of the afternoon.

The full set that included Harold May’s original workbench
Pic © S Bradley

Pete had built a set into the corner of a small and rather cramped room and had found the actual bench that Harold May had had in his workshop… the one upon which the Red Special had been built. He’d also unearthed a number of the original radio sets, materials and tools; a fly on the wall would have buzzily laughed to itself at the sight of a number of grown men, myself absolutely included, cooing at what was the original tin of Rustins clear coating. Read the book to discover the full enormity of this but, in the realm of serious Brian May fandom, this is a relic of almost mythic proportions.

Brian checks out the radio sets built by his dad that he’d not seen for a while. A deep moment. The original tin of Rustins can be seen just to the right of the taller radio
Pic © S Bradley

Brian dutifully appeared at the appointed time and spent a couple of private minutes examining the display that, to him, must have resembled a May family museum; can’t have been easy. The Red Special was jauntily set front and centre of the two-camera shoot, and Pete had brought Brian’s first ever guitar, his Egmond acoustic, from the warehouse just in case. Brian grabbed and tuned it while we set up.

Brian tunes his Egmond while Queen’s image archivist Richard Gray looks on
Pic © S Bradley

We got underway just after 2pm and it was hot in that room, really hot, with lights, burly blokes and a temperature outside of over 80 degrees all adding to the sapping, sticky atmosphere. Brian and I, perched on stools opposite each other, got down to business and he seemed to really get into the interview after a rather stilted start (in hindsight, my first question really shouldn’t have been about Queen…). Aside from occasional requests from the director to repeat a phrase or two thanks to the rumble from Heathrow-bound planes overhead it went pretty smoothly, as working with pros usually does.

After about 3½ hours we were all flagging, so I wound proceedings up with only a couple of questions to go (I filled in the gaps over the phone with Brian about a month later). The film crew were great (watch this space for more on that) and, with only one small issue with the audio, which was solved in seconds, to throw a spanner in the works I felt we’d all done a great job. Brian thought so too, and, still with a smile on his face, shook hands all round before he was whisked away to his next appointment.

Now all I had to do was transcribe the whole thing and beat it into some kind of cogent order.

The pictures used on this blog are either mine or used with the permission of the copyright owner. If you feel you have to take and use them elsewhere, a credit would be nice and presumably you’ll be buying the book, yeah? Thank you!

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During the three year production process of the book ‘Brian May’s Red Special’, collaborating author Simon Bradley compiled an account of the whole experience, from its conception and planning to its writing and launch.

Here’s the first part of a fascinating insight into what it took to bring ‘Brian May’s Red Special: The Story of the Home-Made Guitar that Rocked Queen and the World’ to the shelves.

The words are all Simon’s, as are the majority of the photographs, unless otherwise stated.

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‘The Team’

I’ll introduce members of the dedicated team behind the book in due course but, for now, here’s just one of them. Every part of the book has benefitted from the input of a number of seriously talented people, but it wouldn’t have even got off the ground without the help, advice and support of Brian’s guitar tech Pete Malandrone.

Pete Malandrone, ably protecting his work wife…
Pic © S Bradley

Professional cockney, Womble, growler and snouter, Pete’s been with Brian since January 1994 and the description of the Buckingham Palace roof performance from his unique standpoint is one of my favourite parts of the book. It adds a great deal to Brian’s personal account of the day, and you can feel the pressure he so ably coped with.

Me, resembling a thumb, while Pete defaults to 
loon status. The Red Special looks on, stoically
Pic © S Bradley

We first met when I interviewed Brian for Guitarist in 1998 and I’m very glad we get on so well; the fun factor, not to mention the virtually unrestricted access I enjoyed during the research and production processes, would have been seriously reduced if we didn’t. Thanks mate; it’s my round.

Me, with the disassembled Red Special, 
and a lurking Andy Guyton. Careful…
Pic © S Bradley

Me? I’m just the lucky so-and-so who got to do all this. Yes, I’m a journalist, but I’m a guitarist and Queen fan too and Brian’s the reason I took the instrument up in the first place. Having gazed adoringly at the many posters of the band that adorned my teenage bedroom walls for hours on end, the fact that I’ve actually met him, let alone been involved in the intimate process of writing a book such as this, are dreams that have come true. Jammy, jammy, jammy.

The reason we’re here. Brian and his Red Special,
somewhere on tour in 1980
Pic Waring/Getty Images ©

The most important part of the entire process needs little introduction. Brian has helped me immeasurably throughout the production process, and the genuine intimacy we’ve tried to convey throughout the book has been down to him. Imagine if he’d bought the Fender Stratocaster he so coveted? Or not taken photographs of the construction of the Red Special? Or not formed Queen? It’d be a strange old world…

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In the next instalment, which we’ll be publishing soon, Simon describes the meticulous planning of the book’s content and what it took to arrange a marathon interview with Brian, from which the the story of the Red Special would be discerned.

“Brian May’s Red Special” Book Launch Party 1 October 2014  … Footage from co-author, Simon Bradley

Photo credits: Paul Hermer

A selection of photos taken during the launch party for the RED SPECIAL BOOK

Guitarist magazine’s feature on Brian’s Red Special Guitar, is now also on the partner website for Guitarist; MusicRadar.com

http://www.musicradar.com/news/guitars/in-pictures-brian-mays-red-special-up-close-608162

The launch party for Brian May’s Red Special took place on Wednesday 1st October at the Century Club in Central London.

We’re planning to share a wealth of pictures from the event very soon, so keep checking back to www.theredspecial.com. We also hope to post some video taken of Brian, who spoke at length during the evening about the book and also demonstrated sounds from the Red Special itself, which was something very, well, special indeed.

For now, just a couple of snaps to set the mood…

The two authors: Brian with Simon Bradley

Simon Bradley and Andrew Guyton share a joke. Bless.