God Save My Queen: A Tribute / Edition 1

Paperback (Print)
Used and New from Other Sellers
Used and New from Other Sellers
from $1.99
Usually ships in 1-2 business days
(Save 84%)
Other sellers (Paperback)
  • All (17) from $1.99   
  • New (3) from $1.99   
  • Used (14) from $1.99   
Sort by
Page 1 of 1
Showing All
Note: Marketplace items are not eligible for any BN.com coupons and promotions
Seller since 2008

Feedback rating:



New — never opened or used in original packaging.

Like New — packaging may have been opened. A "Like New" item is suitable to give as a gift.

Very Good — may have minor signs of wear on packaging but item works perfectly and has no damage.

Good — item is in good condition but packaging may have signs of shelf wear/aging or torn packaging. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Acceptable — item is in working order but may show signs of wear such as scratches or torn packaging. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Used — An item that has been opened and may show signs of wear. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Refurbished — A used item that has been renewed or updated and verified to be in proper working condition. Not necessarily completed by the original manufacturer.

Soft Skull Press, 04/01/2003, Paperback, Brand New!

Ships from: Frederick, MD

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
Seller since 2005

Feedback rating:


Condition: New
Brooklyn 2003 Softcover First Edition. 140 pages. Softcover. Brand New Book. MUSIC. A sprawling meditation on the rock band Queen and the late legendary singer Freddie Mercury. ... As you'd expect from any serious audiophile, the author displays the geeky but brilliant mind of an obsessive collector, full of footnotes and trivia, close readings and sidebars. (Key Words: Rock Bands, Queen, Singers, Freddie Mercury, Daniel Nester, Music). Read more Show Less

Ships from: Mount Vernon, NY

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
Seller since 2008

Feedback rating:


Condition: New

Ships from: Chicago, IL

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
Page 1 of 1
Showing All
Sort by


God Save My Queen is a collection of lyrical essays drawing on a very unliterary source: the British rock band Queen. World famous in the 1970s for such songs as "We Will Rock You," "We Are The Champions," "Another One Bites The Dust," and "Bohemian Rhapsody," Queen’s music is embedded in our public consciousness, in our sports stadiums, in TV commercials, and Wayne’s World.
But it is a source of a deeper obsession for the author, poet and journalist Daniel Nester—in God Save My Queen, a short essay or riff accompanies, in order of album and track, every song recorded by the band, in chronological order, until its flopped "disco" album, 1982’s Hot Space. Part memoir, part prose poetry part rock book, Nester draws connections betwen everyone from Liza Minelli, Leni Riefenstahl, Billie Jean King, Michael Jackson and Freddie Mercury sharing a kiss in 1981, even a rant on Courtney Love’s giggling over Kurt Cobain’s mention of Freddie Mercury in his suicide note. The entries for the songs add up to a love letter to a band, and a time when all that mattered was a record player and a pair of headphones.
Read More Show Less

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781887128278
  • Publisher: Soft Skull Press, Inc.
  • Publication date: 5/5/2003
  • Edition description: First Edition
  • Edition number: 1
  • Pages: 140
  • Product dimensions: 7.14 (w) x 7.00 (h) x 0.39 (d)

Read an Excerpt


a tribute


Soft Skull Press

Copyright © 2003

Daniel Nester
All right reserved.

ISBN: 1-887128-27-1

Chapter One


This time, darkness. This time a heartbeat, a delight in accordance with time.
Can I pray now? Is it time to pray? We could make various perfunctory
comparisons to thunder. We could. We could.

We could replay, look at orchestrations like math equations. But my plaything's
scratchy. Years ago, I realized the double equal sign [==] is used cheaply by
podunk bards, rather like the formalism of lemony car crashes.

So again we pose the question: Can we begin now?


That skipped word, Father, now revisits dissent in a backbeat roundelay. So here
I am recollecting all of this, all of this, as I sing and terminate ideas, start up
others. Water goes right into the bones, Father. Right into the bones.

Famous voices come in each ear as winter comes 'round. An octave for each.
When thunder bursts above the earth, it becomes rain and makes people glad.
And then it starts again, and each time there is an accretion of sweetness.

Water flies into bones I got from you, Dad! My bones == your bones.


The beginning of the virtues, a syntax still shuffled in the old style. In this way,
words are placed as to accent the old style. Old elements rumble. But that jabbing
shows where I'm at, where the grumps tick away?

"You remind me of myself on pot," someone said to me at supper. I wanted him
to mention more wisdoms, retranslate some things, just as lounge acts translate
standards into sitar or accordion. He was just so old and took so long.

But it was no use. The sun had already had gone down.


The decay and poison and worms all gone now. Within the larger nest, malady
revamped twenty years later by an unnamed Spanish singer. People have deemed
that rendering interesting.

This is the first of the other voice, a Trojan Horse through a megaphone
announcing itself. What's good for the home. You'll come home. And a scratch
before voicing-I hear it now, only out in the wild.

Waiting for bad sequencing, decay and poison, ¿Quando Quando?


Image and opposite, the family. The rumbling. I've always admired Roger, his
steadfast pop sensibility, but wondered what the other three were thinking as they
heard those badly coached demos.

Blank faces again. Approaching an organ-imagine!-from eight different
directions-another dreary day-then placing it so far in the background that it
makes one question consciousness.

A special, effortful moment, if not for layabout dancing.


All the elements, backward. And is this air analogous? Again, a scream to be
returned to. And time still separates us. Needs tutoring. So many moving parts to
attend to.

To wit-I can't work on my self-portrait while listening to some boy-girl story.
This is what truly separates us. Fuckin-A right. The sullen artists are not poets, as
many suspect, but re-creators who search for essence while ridiculing.

Rock 'n' roll don't need no referent. Fuck 'em if they think so.


Tinkle time. Clock piece moving and muffled. A ladybug somewhere in a
landscape, and people playing period instruments. See? This is what I was talking
about. Now they got me talking about insects.

Looking across the sad river in the early 80s, I carried shrink-wrapped objects in a
bag, still acting the woodsman. At that point, I had not yet decided to give up
the forest for the drawing room. Or even knew there was a choice.

Somewhere in the landscape. Somewhere in the gallery. A pen in the bushes.


The reluctant prodigal of my own whipping can't make out the general gist of the
night. Still thinking again of the outdoors, I suppose. But someone has been
tricked and abandoned. Someone has been crying.

"Ever since Beethoven, piano players have just said, 'Fuck the trill,'" Tom says.
His loafers smooth out the carpet below his seat as he says this. And I feel myself
expand in his scotch as he says this.

Insects, fireflies. My sister in white leather boots.


Torn from the arm of Latin prophets, those nights kicking rubber balls around.
Face-to-face tongue twisters with neighborhood girls. Oh, I don't need to tell you
where they are now. Rubber baby buggy bumpers indeed.

Then I said fuck it, 'cos I know there's a traffic circle here somewhere, some
utterance waiting to be snagged. But there has to be silence first. Left ear. Right
ear. No fault in slight humiliation, the good green book says. And me?

I'm thinking of that sweet hole now, the wet statue that whistles across the street.


Now I remember the singing flowers, all running 'round Lower Broadway. And
how I smashed my leg on a piece of stage. Bright makeup on singing flowers.
Bar none, the best drag queen show I've ever seen.

I imagine the hipsters' response, these dropouts on hard folding chairs. A post-Edenic
stance. High notes with raised highbrow movements. And a splashy
arrangement of dandelion, baby fat peeking through.

Let's say, finally, that enchantment can really happen.


The germinations more, saturnalia more, group screams more. And the whole
issue of playing records for each other in the dusty, seafaring night just goes away.
I look out the corner window and concentrate on coming.

Name parameters here. We're at each other's mercy. And we need to break it up,
to hand over the boom-bap shit-eating grin, gnarly and insultingly common. And
what is that? For once, it's an honest notion of folklore.

To speak and be squished. To misquote. To sing.


Heads romp over turnarounds. There's a video I have that covers the electronics
of his homemade guitar. Brian looks supercute in a winter-themed sweater and
sits in an all-white room with his father. Like a painting with large fingers.

Then he shows how easy this one lick is, and it's laughable. Fast and through six
microphones to boot. One realizes the utter King Learishness of a fingerstretch,
all drawing-room myth of de-webbed hands and fret-spread distance.

How wonderfully nude and fuckable I am; how I ache when I think of this.


Now we can say it, Freddie. Get allegory out of the way. We'll get to that place,
but for now, verisimilitude virtually ends here in a single hand-me-down mention.
No more end-rhymed thee's and thou's.

And I listened once as a child, jumping rope over mom's curly phone cord. AM
radio in the winter. Oldies with the "best new songs." It came out thick, in the
company of girls, cautionary trucker songs and yes, Joni Mitchell.

The narrative, the innocent and the short-lined, all clear as a bell.


Excerpted from GOD SAVE MY QUEEN
Copyright © 2003 by Daniel Nester.
Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Read More Show Less

Table of Contents

Queen II......................................13
Sheer Heart Attack............................27
A Night At The Opera..........................43
A Day At The Races............................57
News Of The World.............................69
The Game......................................99
Flash Gordon (Soundtrack).....................111
Hot Space.....................................127

Read More Show Less

Customer Reviews

Be the first to write a review
( 0 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star


4 Star


3 Star


2 Star


1 Star


Your Rating:

Your Name: Create a Pen Name or

Barnes & Noble.com Review Rules

Our reader reviews allow you to share your comments on titles you liked, or didn't, with others. By submitting an online review, you are representing to Barnes & Noble.com that all information contained in your review is original and accurate in all respects, and that the submission of such content by you and the posting of such content by Barnes & Noble.com does not and will not violate the rights of any third party. Please follow the rules below to help ensure that your review can be posted.

Reviews by Our Customers Under the Age of 13

We highly value and respect everyone's opinion concerning the titles we offer. However, we cannot allow persons under the age of 13 to have accounts at BN.com or to post customer reviews. Please see our Terms of Use for more details.

What to exclude from your review:

Please do not write about reviews, commentary, or information posted on the product page. If you see any errors in the information on the product page, please send us an email.

Reviews should not contain any of the following:

  • - HTML tags, profanity, obscenities, vulgarities, or comments that defame anyone
  • - Time-sensitive information such as tour dates, signings, lectures, etc.
  • - Single-word reviews. Other people will read your review to discover why you liked or didn't like the title. Be descriptive.
  • - Comments focusing on the author or that may ruin the ending for others
  • - Phone numbers, addresses, URLs
  • - Pricing and availability information or alternative ordering information
  • - Advertisements or commercial solicitation


  • - By submitting a review, you grant to Barnes & Noble.com and its sublicensees the royalty-free, perpetual, irrevocable right and license to use the review in accordance with the Barnes & Noble.com Terms of Use.
  • - Barnes & Noble.com reserves the right not to post any review -- particularly those that do not follow the terms and conditions of these Rules. Barnes & Noble.com also reserves the right to remove any review at any time without notice.
  • - See Terms of Use for other conditions and disclaimers.
Search for Products You'd Like to Recommend

Recommend other products that relate to your review. Just search for them below and share!

Create a Pen Name

Your Pen Name is your unique identity on BN.com. It will appear on the reviews you write and other website activities. Your Pen Name cannot be edited, changed or deleted once submitted.

Your Pen Name can be any combination of alphanumeric characters (plus - and _), and must be at least two characters long.

Continue Anonymously
Sort by: Showing all of 4 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 31, 2004

    Out of hand

    Daniel Nester is an obsessed fan. Nothing strange there - lots of music books are written by fans. The difference is that Nester - also a New York poet - takes his fandom seriously; he considers it a suitable topic for poetry. And why not? Post-baby-boomers tend to define themselves by their cultural affiliations - whether you like the Smiths or System of a Down, pop taste articulates your personality, your stance towards the world. Nester's prose poems - one for every Queen song - go well beyond the traditional tribute. They explore the odd, obsessive mindset of the fan, the curious distance and closeness he feels towards his chosen object. The poems are madly associative in the Beat tradition but also toy with a pedantic scholarly bent, particularly in the hilarious footnotes. This bold work deserves to be read and discussed.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted September 17, 2003


    I can't believe this guy got a publisher for this book. A complete waste of money.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 10, 2003

    queen of hearts

    Dan Nester brilliantly weaves the lyrics from this great rock band into the tapestry of our growing years with all its pain and glory.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted March 27, 2003

    God Save My Queen - Music in the Prose

    Daniel Nester has captured Queen's influence in a very personal, exciting manner. This man's talents have yet to be tapped as a great poet of our time. Hat's off to more books from Nester!

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
Sort by: Showing all of 4 Customer Reviews

If you find inappropriate content, please report it to Barnes & Noble
Why is this product inappropriate?
Comments (optional)