Few groups ever knew how to party as hard as INXS and the catalyst for the party was generally Michael. Personally, few concerts I have ever seen have been as powerful and as convincing as that night in Albury.Īfter the show the group found the only nightclub in town and drank them dry of champagne and most anything else. Whatever anyone may say about their songs or their albums, INXS were one of the truly great live bands – a perfect synthesis of all the themes of rock and pop music. Then they went on stage and blew everyone away. As the intro music started up and the stage manager came to collect them the six players began to pound the wall of the truck and chant “rock & roll” like the legendary Derek Smalls and his crew. Although this would have been the ten thousandth or more gig they were buzzing to get onstage. The camaraderie around INXS at that time was purely infectious. “It’s not two writers and four dumb musicians.”Īt the conclusion of the interview the singer went down to meet the fans and returned with a list of kids who hadn’t been able to get tickets to the sold-out theatre show.īackstage for this gig was the inside of the semi which carted the PA. “Andrew and I may write most of the songs, but this is a real and,” he said at the time. But INXS was essentially a gang in every sense of the word, they were a democracy. Hutchence’s walking on the wild side gave an edge to the pop sensibilities of his co-writer Andrew Farriss. He was more interested in talking about how much he admired Nick Cave and the Birthday Party than blowing his own trumpet. He was fiercely ambitious but he took little other than his music with too much seriousness. Hutchence was disarmingly different from what anyone would expect of an Oz rock pop star. The Swing in 1983 was the beginning of something unique and by the time of Listen Like Thieves it was apparent that INXS were a band with a momentum all their own. At that point I was only mildly interested in INXS, had rarely seen them play and was not greatly impressed with their first three albums. Even in Albury-Wodonga he was a prisoner of his fame. It was the winter of 1985 the first time I met Michael Hutchence and it was obvious that he was born to be a star. As soon as anyone went to the window the chorus started up again. The blinds were drawn not against the sunshine but the gaggle of schoolgirls below who chanted the singer’s name over and over. In fact it was one of the few buildings over two storeys in the twin cities. I was ushered into what passed for a suite on the third floor of Albury-Wodonga’s finest hotel. The man and his music – A Tribute by Toby Creswell, Music JournalistĪs I recall it, the room was in half darkness and the blinds were drawn against the warm, late-summer sunshine.
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