The date was not an accident. It had been deliberately picked because it would be twenty years to the day – February 7, 1964 – that The Beatles had arrived in America, and now, exactly two decades later the Fab Four had new rivals in the States, the Fab Five!
Press from around the globe were invited and the scene was set.
After rehearsals, waiting for the press conference to start
In addition to hosting the press conference, Michelle gave me and Peter Facer exclusive access to film Duran Duran not only onstage but also backstage and during rehearsal; footage that we would air on the upcoming TV shows SuperStars of Video and VideoBeat.
We spent most of the day with Duran Duran. In the morning we met up with them at their hotel then travelled with them in their limos to the Magic Castle where we did an hour of rehearsal and camera blocking for the press conference. After all that was done it was time to just sit around and wait.
When the press conference finally got under way it was mayhem for the first few minutes. Two hundred reporters fired off a non-stop barrage of flashes that almost blinded us and screamed to get the band’s attention.
Finally I had to take the microphone and let the press corps know that if they didn’t quiet down Duran Duran would have to leave. After that everything got under control and for the next ninety minutes I called for questions from the invited audience while Simon, Nick, John, Roger and Andy laughed and joked their way through the answers.
The press conference was broadcast live on three continents and elevated Duran Duran to a new level of stardom. The band featured footage of it in their tour move Sing Blue Silver and a line of bubblegum cards were released in Japan featuring the six of us together on stage. It was a pivotal moment for the British invasion in America.
After the ninety-minute press conference we headed backstage. John asked how I had liked it. I only had one word for him, “Wild!”
John laughed and said, “Well I hope you’re ready for tonight. Want to come on stage and introduce us?”
I didn’t have to even think about my answer, after all Duran Duran was about to play the second of two sold out nights at the Fabulous Forum in Los Angeles, a place where I had been so many times as just a concert goer to see acts like Pat Benatar, The Police and Genesis. Now I was being asked to go onstage and introduce Duran Duran to 16,000 fans.
The word leapt from my mouth – “Yes!”
It was at that February 7 show at the Fabulous Forum where the comparisons to The Beatles really hit home. When I hit the stage to bring on Duran Duran the wall of sound that erupted from the sold-out audience was deafening. For the band it was ten times louder.
Backstage with Duran Duran for the Feb 7th 1984 concert
They say that The Beatles at Shea Stadium couldn’t hear their own music because their 100 watt VOX amplifiers couldn’t compete with the sheer volume of screams coming from the stands. It was the same for Duran Duran.
Even with the latest technology and high-power monitors, the kids unleashed a non-stop wave of adoring squeals and cheers that boomed through the enclosed sports arena. For the first ten minutes, until the audience calmed down a little, Duran Duran played on without being able to hear a single note of their songs.
The next day, to say thank you, Michelle Peacock hand delivered Duran Duran’s brand new video ‘New Moon on Monday’ to world premiere on Superstars of Video.
But it was another video that Peter and I received at the end of the year that triggered an amazing series of events for us that culminated with John Taylor of Duran Duran saving our butts!
It was the beginning of December, 1984, when Peter and I were sent a video for VideoBeat and Video One that was a who’s – who of the artists that we played on our shows; Band Aid’s “Do They Know It’s Christmas.” Put together by Bob Geldof and Midge Ure it became a massive hit around the world but Midge told me it was something that almost didn’t happen.
In addition to Midge co-writing and producing the song, Bob asked him to help with getting the talent to perform on the record and the first two acts he went after were Sting and Duran Duran. Once he convinced them to come onboard all the other groups fell into place because everybody in music at the time wanted to work with those two superstar acts.
Steve Dagger from Spandau Ballet has the best story about recording “Do They Know It’s Christmas.”
I was shooting an interview with Spandau when Steve told me, “I was approached to have Spandau Ballet do Band Aid but we had commitments in Europe with interviews and TV shoots so getting to London in time was impossible. But then we heard Duran Duran was doing it so that changed everything and we had to be there.”
Steve smiled at the memory, “We really didn’t know much about it, the charity aspect of the project, but I made sure the guys got to the recording session. We hired a private jet that flew us into London and then a limo to take us to Sarm Studios in Notting Hill. When we arrived we were shocked. We were the only ones who turned up in a limo! Huge stars like Sting and Wham! had walked there or come on bikes or by taxi to show their support to fight the African famine and here we were, arriving in a big black stretch limo.”
Steve laughed as he recalled that day in November, “We were all so tired from gigging the night before. None of us had slept and the band was hung over and just milling around thinking this was some all-star vanity project. And the big thing was when Midge and Bob started the session nobody wanted to be the first to step up and sing, not George (Michael), Sting, Simon, Bono, nobody. It was like ‘I’m not going to be bloody first with everybody watching!’ So finally Tony steps up and says ‘I’ll do it’ and he became the first person to lay down vocals for ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas.’”
Steve leaned into me, “But the really funny thing is that during the breaks, Midge went around with a tape machine to get the bands to make a message of encouragement to put on the B side of the record. So he comes up to Steve Norman who hasn’t slept for two days and doesn’t really have a clue why all these groups and singers are gathered in the studio, and Midge asks him, ‘Do you have a message for all the Ethiopian children this Christmas?’”
“Everyone else was saying things like ‘The world knows your plight, you haven’t been forgotten’ or ‘Don’t worry, children, help and food is on its way,’ but Steve who is exhausted and unaware of the terrible famine in Africa and the charity aspect of what they are doing there that morning in the studio sits up and says ‘To all the kids in Ethiopia, thanks for buying our records. Sorry we haven’t been over on tour to play for you yet but maybe next year Spandau Ballet will be there to rock for you.’”
Steve Dagger grinned, “But despite the confusion we did our part along with Duran Duran and the others and raised a lot of money, like twenty million pounds, to help feed the children, so we’re all very proud of that.”
The incredible achievement of Band Aid led to one of the most important concert events of all time, Live Aid, and again Duran Duran were a key to its success.
Live Aid was a one-day concert, July 13th, 1985, held in venues across the world and broadcast live on MTV. It featured performances from the Soviet Union, West Germany, Japan, Austria and Australia but its two key venues were Wembley Stadium in London and John F. Kennedy Stadium in Philadelphia.
As soon as Peter and I heard about the mega-concert we knew we had to be there to shoot it for Video One and VideoBeat, but the problem was MTV and ABC had locked up the exclusive rights to the concert.
But we had an ace-in-the-hole. One of the producers had worked with us at the US Festival and we contacted him and he arranged for press passes to be issued to Peter and me and a small crew. Officially the passes would only allow us into the press tent at JFK Stadium for post-concert interviews but I figured nothing ventured, nothing gained and I found the money for Peter and myself to fly to Philadelphia and hire a camera crew there.
It was a scorching hot July day in Philly and the temperature was sweltering inside the open
air stadium where the body heat from almost 100,000 concert goers pushed the mercury ever upwards.
Peter and I met with our two person camera crew – one for camera, one for audio – and the four of us headed inside, proudly displaying our press credentials. Without even slowing down we marched straight past the press area and towards the phalanx of security blocking the access to backstage and the stadium floor. Now was the moment of truth.
Security guards are used to being hassled. Everyone tries to push by them, argue with them, bust out the line “don’t you know who I am” – which, by the way, the moment you use it, you’ve lost because they obviously don’t know who you are; what security personnel are not used to is people being nice to them. I had put together a plan in my head that often worked for me when I didn’t have a backstage pass and now we were going to try and implement it at one of the biggest concerts in history.
I wanted us to be as conspicuous as possible. There was no way we could sneak by these guys so I had us do the exact opposite approach. We would act like we owned the place.
We stopped right in front of the line of security and put our gear down on the ground, almost at the feet of the supervisor in charge. Before any of the uniformed guards could speak I turned to my camera guy for a second and said loudly, “You’re sure the new batteries are good? I don’t want to have to go all the way back again,” - I pointed over my shoulder to the entrance gate, - “to get some more charged ones halfway through the set.”
The camera guy nodded his OK.
I turned to the chief security guard in front of us, “This heat is brutal on the camera gear. The batteries drain in less than an hour. If we have to swap out one more camera or mic pack I’m going to go nuts.” I smiled knowingly at the guard, “But it’s much worse for you. You’ve been standing out here since we first got here this morning, - what’s that, three, four hours ago? I don’t know how you do it.”
The guard leaned in to confide in me, “You think it’s hot now wait until this afternoon. They say it’ll be in the nineties.”
“Shit!” I said, “It was already pushing eighty when we saw you earlier.”
“Yeah,” he nodded in agreement, “it got hot early. And humid.”
“Well you guys are better men than me. At least we have shade on the stage.” I turned to Peter and the crew, “Let’s get rolling.”
They picked up their gear as I turned back to the guards, “Next time through we’ll bring you some water. You’re going to need it out here.”
The lead guard gestured to an ice chest, “That thing’s full with waters.”
I smiled. “In that case I’ll sneak you some cold beers from the dressing room.”
“Now you’re talking,” he said.
We exchanged friendly nods as the four of us were waved through the assembled guards and onto hallowed ground. We might not have had the proper credentials but we had a smile, a friendly word and we were all determined to get some amazing footage.
For the next eight hours things went perfectly. We shot onstage, backstage and throughout the stadium. Politeness, respect and a good attitude got us everywhere, even up into the far reaches of the crowd overlooking the massive stage.
It was a little after 6pm and we had just finished shooting The Cars onstage. Neil Young was up next and he wasn’t really one of the artists we played on my TV shows so we decided to take a much needed break. As we moved from the side of the stage a large, gruff man spotted us and stormed up to me. He grabbed the pass from my neck, glanced at it, then threw it back at me in disgust.
“What the fuck are you doing on my stage? You should be in the fucking tent with the rest of the reporters.”
Screenshot from Video One at Live Aid July 13, 1985
That’s when I realized who this was. Standing in front of me, screaming in my face was Bill Graham, the concert impresario who was putting on Live Aid. His long career was the stuff that legends are made of; he had staged shows for virtually every star in the business from the Grateful Dead in the sixties through to Rod Stewart’s latest tour. Here, everyone worked for him and his word was law. He was the sheriff and I was the outlaw who had just ridden into his town and committed a hanging offense.
He stepped up to within one inch of my nose and raged, “Get off my fucking stage right now or I’ll break that camera over your fucking back!”
Sticking with my rule of “never argue with security” – especially the people who hire the security and pay them – I nodded silently to Peter and our crew and we turned and shuffled quickly off the stage.
We were done, defeated, humiliated and there were still so many acts to come that we wouldn’t be able to shoot.
It was a sad march we made down the stairs and then all the way along behind that massive stage. As we reached the far side of it a familiar face was standing at the other set of stairs leading up to the wings, it was John Taylor from Duran Duran. He saw us heading for the distant exit and called out to us from the steps.
“Richard, you’re not leaving are you?” asked John, “I’m just about to go on with Michael and Andy.”
“Really?” I said innocently.
“Aren’t you going to shoot the set?” John said.
“Of course. We’d love to.”
John motioned to the big security guard at the bottom of the stairs, “These guys are with me.”
John Taylor waiting to go onstage at Live Aid
The guard nodded and waved us back up onto that forbidden stage.
The setup for Live Aid at JFK was so vast that no one on this side of the stage had seen Bill Graham throwing us out. If we stayed here, and if Bill Graham didn’t come over to this side – a big if – then all would be good and my back would remain unbroken.
John lit a cigarette as he waited for his cue to go on for the first of two performances he played that evening at Live Aid, initially with Power Station and then with Duran Duran.
The security guard who had been assigned to John while he was waiting for his cue somehow attached himself to us for the rest of the night. Maybe he thought that any friends of the bass player in the hottest band in the world at that time, Duran Duran, deserved their own escort, so with him by our side as our protection we continued to shoot the concert until the star studded finale and found ourselves in the surreal situation of standing with Chevy Chase and Mick Jagger watching Hall & Oates perform.
With Peter Facer at Live Aid
It was a day that I’ll never forget and one that would have been cut short far too soon if not for the intervention of one of the Wild Boys, my friend, John Taylor.
The next day the weather in Philadelphia broke and sheets of rain sliced down from the dark clouds as thunder shook the skies, but nothing could stop the euphoria that Peter and I were feeling as we headed to the airport. We had shot all the footage we needed for both shows, with enough left over to use in future specials.
I’d bought our tickets on a low budget airline, Tower Air, and as we checked in I asked the counter clerk if they had any room upfront. She checked her monitor and smiled,
“I can seat you upstairs for an extra fifty dollars each.”
Fifty bucks to fly first class in “the bubble” of a 747? I couldn’t hand over the money quick enough.
As we relaxed in our plush leather seats, enjoying our complimentary drinks and waiting for a break in the storm before we could take off, Peter and I realized we had been present for a moment in history at a concert that had made a global impact. We toasted to our future adventures as the four Rolls Royce engines fired up and the massive plane taxied out onto the rain soaked runway.
MUSIC FOR THE MASSES
The number one question I get? ‘Who is your favorite band?’ And my answer never varies, Depeche Mode. Maybe one day I should change it up and say “Milli Vanilli” just to shock people, but somehow I don’t think that would fly.
Depeche Mode are a band who should never have survived. How many other groups can you think of who hav
e continued on to achieve even more success after their founding member, song writer and musical director left? Particularly when that departure came right on the heels of the release of their very first album, Speak & Spell.
They really should have adhered to the industry standard and given up, shook hands with each other and said “Well it was fun while it lasted. Now let’s all find another group to play in.”
Instead they defied the odds and stayed together. Amazingly after the departure of a musical genius like Vince Clarke they found another equally talented prodigy within the remaining trio, Martin Gore. Martin stepped up and wrote the songs for the second album and a new era for Depeche Mode was under way.
I’ve always loved the early titles of Depeche Mode’s albums; it’s almost like they are giving you the linear storyline of the growth of the band. Their first album is Speak & Spell, indicating baby steps, what a child would do, learn to speak and spell. With Vince’s abrupt exit the picture for success for Depeche Mode was thrown into chaos hence the second album being called A Broken Frame.
In late 1982 Alan Wilder joined the band and as a quartet they began rebuilding so the third album’s title came naturally, Construction Time Again. Alan brought with him an incredible knowledge of electronics and sampling and incorporated it into the band’s music and with this new sound Depeche Mode scored two huge international hits, first with “Everything Counts” and then the single “People Are People.” The title of their fourth album validated their success, Some Great Reward.
But it wasn’t the album titles that made DMode my favorite band; it was their music and getting to know the guys themselves.
My first interview with Depeche Mode was in late March, 1983 when they were in town playing a show at the Beverly Theater. Mute Records brought them in on my radio show and then later that day I shot a TV interview with them. After the interview they invited me to their show and we hung out backstage in their dressing room for about an hour. That was the start of a long, ongoing friendship.
World in My Eyes: The Autobiography Page 35