“Hot Space takes all the things that Queen were known for and either removes them or treats them to ridiculous subversions. So that means drum machines instead of booming tom-toms, ludicrous brass arrangements instead of opulent guitar histrionics and, more than ever before, an obsession with sex. You know, rather than ogres and dragons and flouncing about.
Experiments litter the choppy pace of the album, each an insightful clue as to what the hell they were thinking when they recorded it. By this point, remember, the band had already become a touring beast of legendarily debauched repute. Steaming pyrotechnics, dwarves covered in cold meats and an encyclopaedic appetite for drugs were the order of the day, and if little Deacy was going to start pissing about with disco songs then it was about time a huffy May and Taylor delivered some stadium bangers to keep the live show normal.”