At this point the band had decided that it was crazy not to have a few other guys there just so the parties would last longer and they would have time for at least a couple of post-show drinks, so in addition to the usual record company types about fifty other guys were invited and were inside milling around. But they seemed to disappear as the band entered; after all, the girls were there to meet Spandau Ballet. It’s a cliché for our generation but it’s so true, models and musicians!
About thirty minutes after we got to the club a mean-looking bouncer who looked big enough to have eaten a kangaroo for breakfast and still have been hungry for a full-grown wallaby at lunchtime approached me.
“You the American TV guy?” the Australian mountain bellowed.
“Yes. That’s me,” I replied as I got ready to duck.
He growled, “You got a friend outside who wants to come in.”
A friend? I didn’t have any friends in Sydney. The guy must be mistaken. But then again he was way too big to argue with so I went along with it and answered with a simple okay.
Godzilla led me to the entrance to the club where at least a hundred people and press were all pushing and shoving as they tried to get inside.
There, waiting for me, was a person dressed all in black with a beanie pulled down over his head and dark glasses obscuring his eyes. He saw me and smiled.
“Richard, I heard you were in town at the Sebel. Any chance you could walk me in? I’m trying not to make a fuss here.”
It took me a second but then I realized I was talking to probably the most famous man in Australia at the time, a guy I’d been great friends with for the last three years, Michael Hutchence of INXS. He saw my look of recognition and subtly raised a finger to his lips. I glanced around at the Down Under paparazzi herded together and waiting to pounce on any glimpse of a celebrity and instantly understood. If they had any clue as to who I was talking with it would become an insane mob scene of pushing and yelling.
I turned to Goliath and nodded. “He’s good.”
With that we were shepherded into the club.
Once inside Michael grinned and grabbed my shoulders. “Thanks, mate. So good to see you in Sydney. Found out you were traveling with the band and thought I’d stop by and say hi. Didn’t want those bastards outside getting my picture. The press is all over me these days and my girlfriend’s very . . . sensitive about that kind of thing.”
Michael looked past me and saw the crowd of beautiful girls waiting. Lambs to the slaughter.
“I’m going to get a drink. What do you want?” Michael asked.
Prior to coming to Oz I always thought that Fosters was Australia’s most popular beer but I was wrong. In fact the Aussie’s have a joke about Fosters. If there are no kids reading this right now I’ll share it with you.“Why is Fosters like making love in a canoe? Because it’s fucking close to water!”
Not wanting to look like a tourist I opted for the safe choice. “I’ll have a pint of 4X, mate.”
“I’ll get it and be right back.”
Michael sauntered over to the bar where two heavenly visions sat talking to each other, their micro minis exposing almost all of their glistening tanned legs. Michael stopped right by them. They looked up at him but his disguise made him unrecognizable so they had little interest. He was not the Spandau Ballet member they were looking for.
Then Michael reached up and I could swear that he moved in slow-motion and that someone, somewhere, turned on a wind machine just for him.
He removed his glasses, slid the beanie off and shook his head side to side so that his long, flowing hair tumbled down around his shoulders and then seemed to blow backwards in that invisible breeze.
Suddenly the anonomous dweeb standing in front of the two models had turned from ugly duckling to swan and transformed into the hottest, sexiest rock star in Australia, if not the world.
Michael leaned into the girls and whispered something softly. Not that he had to say anything, because at this point those girls were toast! They stood up and excitedly followed Michael as he walked back towards me.
He stopped, gave me a hug and as he pulled on his beanie and glasses disguise said, “Thanks, Richard, but I got to go.”
I nodded and watched in awe as the superstar left the club with the two women. Less than three minutes and he’d scored the two most smokin’ chicks in Sydney. And that, Mom and Dad, is why kids dream of rock’n’roll stardom!
The next morning when I met up with the rest of the guys in the lobby of the Sebel Hotel there was a package waiting for me. It was a case of XXXX and a note that read, “I forgot your beer last night. Thanks again. See you in LA.” Michael was always the best.
The seven days and seven unforgettable nights on the road with Spandau in Australia sped by. The flight back to the States seemed quick. I was out cold for at least eight hours—had to put some time back in the sleep bank—and for the remaining time on the plane I did some rough “paper cuts” of what the following week’s show on Video One and that coming Saturday’s VideoBeat would look like.
The next two days were nonstop. I was back on the air doing my morning show on KROQ and talking about how amazing Spandau Ballet were live, then running to CCR Video on Santa Monica Blvd. in Hollywood to dub and edit the Australian footage.
We had a deadline. The tickets for the opening nights of Spandau Ballet’s US tour were going on sale the following Friday, and we wanted the spectacular footage of their Australian tour to air every day leading up to then. VideoBeat was airing first that Saturday and Peter Facer and I worked long hours to put the show together. We dropped it off at KTLA late that Friday afternoon, just making our deadline, and Saturday morning it aired—and it looked fantastic!
Video One’s “Spandau Ballet Week Down Under” started that Monday as did the countdown to the on-sale now just four days away. Steve Dagger called me every afternoon from the ongoing tour in Australia—it was morning there, the next day for him—to ask how the buzz was. I had to tell him that virtually every call I was getting on the request lines at KROQ was for Spandau. It was looking good.
In between the radio, my TV shows and the flyers that Avalon Attractions were passing out at all my live gigs, the words Spandau Ballet were everywhere in California. We waited anxiously for the on-sale to start Friday at 9am.
Two shows were going on sale simultaneously. The first night of the US tour was in Orange County at Irvine Meadows on Friday, April 19. The second night was at the Universal Amphitheatre the next day, Saturday, April 20.
What the public didn’t know was that Steve Dagger was holding another night—Sunday, April 21 at the Universal Amphitheatre—to put on sale over the weekend if by any chance the first night got close to selling out.
I was on the air at KROQ that Friday morning counting down to the on-sale. At 9am I gave a “Spandau Ballet tickets are available now!” and went into “Only When You Leave.”
I was readying the first commercial break of the hour at 9:22am when the red line rang. This was the sacred hotline. Only a very few insiders had that number. Steve Dagger was one of them. He was talking as I answered the phone.
“They’ve gone. They’ve all gone.” he babbled.
Sensing something was wrong I jumped in. “Slow down, Steve. It’s okay. What’s gone?”
“The tickets, Richard. They’ve gone. All of them.”
I was picturing some kind of ticket heist with armed men making off with the 24,000 tickets, saying, “Budweiser presents Spandau Ballet.”
“What do you mean, gone?” I asked.
“All three shows are sold out,” Steve answered.
“All three?” I was stunned.
“Yes. Irvine blew out 16,000 tickets in seventeen minutes. The Universal sold the first night—6,000 tickets—in six minutes and rolled straight into the second show. Those also went in six minutes. They said it’s the fastest sell-out in history at both venues. Thank you so much.”
“Hold on, I’m putting you on
the air.”
As the song faded out I potted up the volume control for Steve and talked to him about the sold-out shows. He promised the fans he would try to add a couple more shows at the end of the tour if the band could find time. Then, ever the promoter and always quick on his feet, he plugged the fact that I was going to be hosting an in-store appearance with Spandau the day before the show at Music Plus Records in Orange County.
He continued with, “Why don’t you give a pair of listeners a chance to meet up with you there and bring them backstage to hang out with the guys?”
At Music Plus, April 18, 1985, with the contest winners, Spandau Ballet and my production assistant, Joelle Hood
Boom! Just like that our request lines exploded as I said into the microphone “Okay, caller number 106.7 right now at 1-800-520-1067 joins me backstage with the Spands!”
I told Steve I had to run to the lines and I could hear the smile in his voice as he told me, “We owe you dinner, big time!”
Six weeks later the in-store at Music Plus rolled around and it was frenzied. More than 3,000 kids turned up at three in the afternoon to greet their pop heroes. The band was scheduled for two hours but stayed for four to sign as many albums as possible. I remember one little girl who was crying so hard as she stood in front of Martin that she couldn’t speak.
He gallantly got up and hugged her. “It’s all right,” he said. Waaaaah! She cried even harder because her pin-up was hugging her. Sometimes you just can’t win.
The next night was the opening show of the US tour—Irvine Meadows, California. Not an empty seat in the house. Even the lawn was packed. I walked out on stage to introduce the band and for a moment I thought all the monitors were off because I couldn’t hear a thing. Then I realized it was because the crowd was so loud.
All I could hear was the chant of “Richard, Richard, Richard.” I waited at the center microphone for a second, then asked the question that, had Irvine Meadows not been an outdoor venue, would have brought the roof down. “Any Spandau Ballet fans here?”
I was almost blown off the stage by the roar. Seconds later I introduced the five of them and Tony and I shook hands as we exchanged spots and he took that center mic.
Walking out on stage to Spandau introduce Ballet
The Irvine Meadows’ show was a triumph. Spandau came to prove to the American audience they could rock and they did it in spades. After the show Gary asked his usual question of me, “How did we do?”
I think my response was “Awesome,” but Gary already knew that. He was pumped and excited.
“I can’t wait for tomorrow night, Richard. The Universal Amphitheatre. Everyone’s played there—Elvis, Frank Sinatra—and now it’s our turn. I promise it’ll be a show for the record books.”
Ironically, Gary Kemp was right—but not in the way he wanted to be.
That day I DJ’d a special Saturday show on the air at KROQ and had the guys in. The fans turned up in droves, packed the parking lot and spray painted “SPANDAU BALLET” all over the radio station’s back wall. I shot the interview for my upcoming TV shows and as the group left the building they couldn’t have been in better spirits.
It was a thrilling moment for all involved. It seemed that nothing could stop them from their goal of conquering the USA. Little did anyone know that they were just hours away from that dream becoming a nightmare and encountering a stumbling block that would sideline them from American audiences for the next three decades.
The energy at the Universal Amphitheatre was palpable, both out in the audience and backstage. It was hard to know who was most excited, the fans or the band. I hung with them in the dressing room as I waited for my cue to go up the stairs and out onto the stage.
The show was starting with a three-minute video montage I’d put together from VideoBeat of Spandau in Australia. The techs at the Universal Amphitheater had it playing on their two state-of-the-art giant screens either side of the stage.
The stage manager came to get me and as we left the dressing room I heard Gary pumping up the band, much like a coach does to his team before a game. “Don’t hold anything back tonight; just go for it out there.” Ironic words.
The intro was a rush and the band followed me on stage to a deafening wall of screams. They were firing on all cylinders. I had never seen them so energized. If anything the concert was even better than the night before. Should anyone have had any reservations that Spandau Ballet was a rock band then the sight of Gary Kemp at the front of the stage shredding on his guitar to that sold-out audience would have dispelled those doubts in an instant.
I stood in the pit shooting the show with my SLR camera. About forty minutes in, Steve Norman went into his sax solo and slid across the stage. But the excitement and energy of the night got to him and he dropped too fast and slid too far and I could see his knee twist out from under him. He dropped the sax for a second as pain shot through his body; then he tried to stand up. He couldn’t. His legs gave out from beneath him and he went down again hard.
Tony with the injured Steve Norman on that fateful night
The band finished the song and Tony, always the great front man, tried to take control of the situation. “Sometimes I guess we rock just a little too hard.” His laugh was forced.
John Keeble kept a back beat going as Tony and Gary went over and spoke to Steve Norman. He was in obvious pain but wanted to carry on. The two of them helped him up and bam! he went down again. I could hear Steve saying, “I’m sorry, guys.”
Now Martin joined Tony and Gary and together they hoisted Steve onto Tony’s shoulders. Tony might have one of the most beautiful, romantic voices in music but he is a big guy—two inches taller than me and I’m almost six foot three—and he’s strong. That strength was put to the test that night because for the next three songs he carried Steve Norman around the stage.
Tony sang and Steve played sax and the show went on as best it could.
The concert finished early, and doctors were waiting backstage as Steve Norman was carried off. The news wasn’t good. He’d blown out his knee. It would take surgery and a long recuperation to recover from the injury.
Steve Dagger made the decision quickly. Tomorrow’s show had to be cancelled. By the next morning he had pulled the band out of their entire US tour.
It was a setback that would not only rock their status in America but begin friction within the group that by the end of the decade would result in the breakup of the band and a series of contentious lawsuits that would last years and forever taint the relationship of the former best friends.
Steve Dagger told me later that if he knew then what was to happen, he wouldn’t have cancelled any of the dates. Instead he would have put Steve Norman in a wheelchair and pushed him out on stage himself at every concert. But he didn’t and by the time the eighties came to a close repercussions from that torn knee tore apart the band itself.
WILD BOYS
The British Invasion of new wave music was well underway when Duran Duran brought their ‘Rio’ tour to North America in June of 1982. It was their second series of shows in the US in less than a year. In September 1981 they had made their first foray into the States when they played clubs, including The Roxy in Los Angeles, but now they were back and headlining in bigger venues.
On July 27, 1982 they wrapped up their American tour at the Greek Theatre in Los Angeles. Even though it was a Tuesday night the buzz around Duran Duran was growing and the 5,800 seats were completely sold out.
Their album Rio had been released just two months before. KROQ was the only place on the radio dial in Southern California playing them and none of the other DJs from the station wanted to go out in the middle of the week to introduce the band onstage so as the newbie I was asked to do it. I was actually happy to be given the task as I had been a fan of the band since their self-titled debut release the year before and had added them to the playlist of Z93 in San Luis Obispo when I was program director there. I had a feeling they would be good live
, so I invited my buddy Swedish Egil to join me and together we headed to Hollywood.
The band was excited to go on; it was by far the biggest date in LA they had ever played, and it was the final show of their North American tour and they really wanted to go out in style and make a statement. I received my cue to go out and warm up the crowd, and right after my intro they ran out and owned that stage.
They opened with “Rio”, a song that at that time was still mostly unknown to the audience and then segued into “Girls on Film”. Now the crowd was getting to its feet and starting to dance. At the midpoint of the show the lights dimmed and they broke into an amazing version of “New Religion” with Simon’s voice ringing through the natural valley that The Greek sits in.
I remember turning to Egil and saying, “These guys are the real thing.” Duran Duran had it all; amazing songs, great musicianship, awesome stage presence and the kind of good looks that would adorn the bedrooms of tens of millions of teenage girls around the world.
As the concert drew to a close DD rocked into three uptempo tracks back-to-back, “Planet Earth”, “Hold Back The Rain” and the cut that features one of the best bass lines in modern music brilliantly played by John Taylor, “Careless Memories”.
There was no doubt in the minds of the fans that night that Duran Duran had arrived and had the firepower and raw talent to back up their studio albums with riveting live performances. Both Swedish Egil and I knew that with two great albums under their belt, DD were here to stay.
As soon as their show was finished I sped across town to my own gig at The Roxy. I was pleasantly surprised when an hour into my set Simon Le Bon arrived with a Duran Duran white label twelve inch for me to play.
It was another nineteen months before I was able to cement my relationship with the boys from DD.
In late January, 1984, Michelle Peacock, a promotions executive at Capitol Records, approached me about hosting a special event with Duran Duran. Capitol was planning a worldwide press conference with DD on February 7 at the Magic Castle in Hollywood.
World in My Eyes: The Autobiography Page 34