Wimbledon Rhapsody
An Epic, Multi-Part Rock Opera, in the exact style and structure of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody". The song must feature distinct sections: a melancholic a capella intro with complex vocal harmonies, a narrative piano ballad, an iconic, melodic, multi-layered Brian May-esque guitar solo, a bombastic and theatrical operatic section with call-and-response vocals, an explosive hard rock section, and a final, slow, reflective outro. The vocals are a powerful, theatrical male baritone lead in Freddie-Mercury style, telling the story from a son's perspective to his mother. The production must be grand, dramatic, and flawlessly transition between these complex parts.
Wimbledon Rhapsody
An Epic, Multi-Part Rock Opera, in the exact style and structure of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody". The song must feature distinct sections: a melancholic a capella intro with complex vocal harmonies, a narrative piano ballad, an iconic, melodic, multi-layered Brian May-esque guitar solo, a bombastic and theatrical operatic section with call-and-response vocals, an explosive hard rock section, and a final, slow, reflective outro. The vocals are a powerful, theatrical male baritone lead in Freddie-Mercury style, telling the story from a son's perspective to his mother. The production must be grand, dramatic, and flawlessly transition between these complex parts.
Lyrics
Intro
Is this the real life?
Is this just Centre Court?
Caught in a long rally,
No escape from the final sport
Open your eyes, look at the screen and see...
I'm just your mountain boy, I need your sympathy
Because it's easy come, easy go, little high, little low
Any way the score goes, means the world to my Mama... my Mama...
Ballad Section
Mama... I lost the match
That final point in France, felt a dagger's sting
Mama... my dream had just begun
But then I went and threw it all away
Mama... ooooh (Any way the wind blows)
I didn't mean to make you cry
I saw your face, I saw you hide the pain away
Carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters
Guitar Solo
Opera Section
I see a little silhouetto of a King
Alcaraz! Alcaraz! Can you hit the forehand winner?
Thunderous forehands, very, very frightening me!
(For my Mama!) Mama-mia!
(For my Mama!) Mama-mia!
Mama-mia, let me win!
The Royal Box has a favorite I must beat... must beat... must beat!
I'm just a carrot boy, the whole world boos me
(He's just a carrot boy, from a mountain family)
(Spare him your hate for his tenacity!)
Fifth set point, can you let me win?
Wimbledon! No, we will not let you win! (Let him win!)
Wimbledon! We will not let you win! (Let him win!)
Wimbledon! We will not let you win! (Let me win!)
Will not let you win! (Let me win!)
Never, never, never, never let me lose! No, no, no, no, no, no, no!
Oh, Mama-mia, Mama-mia, Mama-mia look at me!
The Royal Box has a trophy put aside... FOR ME! FOR ME! FOR ME!
Hard Rock Section
So you think you can doubt me and pray I would fall?!
So you think you can cheer him and stand ten feet tall?!
Oh, baby... can't do this to my Mama, baby!
Just gotta win now, just gotta win it all for her now!
Outro
Now, everything matters...
My Mama can see...
Now, everything matters...
Everything matters... for me...
(Spoken whisper, echoing) Any way the win goes...