It was certainly Capitol Records. Apparently someone in the company had woken up sufficiently to embrace the British Invasion's leading heartthrobs with a smarmy affection. The band could have used the support several years before when they were hitting the gritty trail of college campuses and rat-cellar nightclubs. As it was no one seemed to realize the time and money the band had put in since 1981 at conquering America. But, being the land of free enterprise, nothing succeeds like success and Duran Duran was now a company darling and a media dealer's dream. Five young, handsome, bright Englishmen with catchy tunes, innovative videos, quotable quotes and an optimistic-eightyish outlook on life, business and the world were hitting our shores on a major world tour. It was the first in which they were truly world-class rock stars. It was a pity they weren't doing press.
Then again, why do press when you're on every TV and radio station in the country and your two press conferences have provided articles and magazine covers for months? In the preceding weeks before their two-night L.A. appearance you couldn't turn on a TV show that wasn't running their video or headlining an interview. Everyone from "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" to "Good Morning America" participated in the media blitz. L.A. radio stations started re-running 1982 and 1983 interviews for lack of anything current. Duran Duran weekends, ticket giveaways and commercials bombarded us. (Why commercials, you may ask, when their concerts sold out in 2 1/2 hours? Well, Coke wanted to make sure you knew who was bringing you this musical marvel -- even going so far as tying the Fab Five in with the summer Olympics.) No one was immune, not even Rolling Stone, a magazine that breaks out in hives whenever Duran Duran's name is mentioned. Even though the article inside lambasted the band, they were on the cover billed with the British press moniker, The Fab Five. Seeing as how Rolling Stone had just done a 20 year Anniversary tribute to the Fab Four in the previous issue, their sarcasm may have been lost as fans used the label, ignorant of its origins. Others cautiously agreed Duran Duran might be the phenomenon of a new generation.
While many attacked this particular parallel it is fair to point out
that they were hardly the first band to be marketed as an updated version
of John, Paul, George and Ringo. Certainly the Beatles 1964 arrival at
JFK was hardly the result of PR modesty, and who better was there than
Capitol to draw comparisons between its stablemates in a year when both
groups were in the limelight? But the truth was that Duran Duran was merely
the increasingly sophisticated, thorough and effective musical group one
might expect from a media-knowledgeable generation. The Beatles themselves
were quick students and frequently manipulated the media to their own ends
in later years. Where this hype started no one agrees, but Duran Duran
wisely played down the comparisons. It seemed as embarrassing as it was
flattering.
For those in east Bumpkinville, North Dakota who somehow missed the tour, nationwide broadcasts on the ABC radio network (a live interview from Chicago) or Westwood One (the Madison Square Garden concert) filled the gaps. Those of us closer at hand couldn't resist following the media circus.
So it was that this intrepid and highly investigative journalist ("Tell me truly, just where does Nick Rhodes buy his underwear? More importantly, does he wear any?") set out on a Monday afternoon to cover the action close at hand. Getting there was the first problem.
Ticket agencies and astronomical prices are a fact of life in such competitive markets as New York and L.A., and the ticket brokers were making small fortunes off the two dates. The L.A. Times chose the Duran Duran concert as a centerpiece for its article on the questionable practice of legal scalping. Aisle side front row seating was going for $180 a pop.A college budget made me settle for Loge seating at a mere $57.50 a seat. Unfortunately my ticket agency not only fouled up by delaying release (and I, I was a deposit holder), but also by losing my order the first time. This may be why disaster almost struck the weekend of the concert.
I had chosen seats for the second, Tuesday show as my ride had an unmissable Aikido class on Monday nights. (I was in the class too but any excuse would have done to avoid it.) It was my roommate who averted a financial crisis by casually asking which show I was going to. My tickets had arrived in the mail only two days before the show and I realized they would be at the concert a day before I was.
My ride was obstinate to the point of irrationality. There was no way $120 worth of tickets could equal one night of Aikido classes. He and his car were simply unavailable on Monday nights. Sweating, I called up every other friend and acquaintance in memory. It seemed no one could fit all three requirements, consisting of 1) An operating form of transportation, 2) The desire to go and be deafened by palpitating young females and 3) Freedom to roam on the night of the sixth. Buses did not run in the evening, especially down in Orange County.
On Sunday afternoon, as I contemplated putting myself in the hands of strangers via radio to arrive in L.A., salvation arrived in the form of a closet Duran Duran fan who was casually known to me. For a free ticket she would meet me after my Monday afternoon class and we would try to beat the traffic to Inglewood.
With only a Thomas Guide to get us to the concert we put time on our side. I raced back to my dorm room from class and explained breathlessly to my ever-patient roommate that I had yet to make it through a shower and could she meet my ride in the parking lot to explain the delay. Since I was an endless source of amusement for her, she agreed. In fifteen minutes I was flapping down to the parking lot with dripping hair and high heels and we were on our way.
4:30 PM -- The marquee suddenly announces to a displaced Minda and me that the Forum is that huge circular building we're in the process of passing. Coincidence of coincidences it looks just like the picture on our tickets.
The traffic we had expected just wasn't there and we're very early. Minda, my ride, gets upset at the $3.00 parking fee we're expected to pay. We also notice that either a lot of people misjudged the traffic or they have nothing better to do on Monday afternoons than hang around sports stadiums. We join them.
A booth has been set up in between the ramps to the entrance doors and Duran Duran merchandise is going at a fast clip despite the customary inflated prices. T-shirts, jerseys, buttons, programs, poster sets and (inside) some dozen other products all hail the band's name and photogenic faces. What hails the band even more colorfully is the varied get-up of the fans around us. You can see every stage of the band from New Romantic to Yer-Ultra-Hip-Sophisticates. I remark to Minda that at least they dress up and not down. Some interesting disparate musical combinations appear on fans sporting Motley Crue and Police t-shirts, but you can never second guess the musical taste of the superficially interested.
A girl squeals the praises of Thomas Dolby and can't believe her companion has not yet heard his new single, "Hyperactive". I have, and it's good, but I'm not squealing.
5:00 pm--Minda is on a crusade to let all employees and management of the Forum know just what she thinks of their parking fee. Having already done so to the parking lot attendant she heads down to the Forum offices. A security guard stops her and she starts discussing the issue with him. While I wait on the steps to watch comings and goings some girls spot my telephoto lens and ask "Are you a professional photographer?". This isn't exactly the time or place to discuss career ambitions, so I smile and shake my head. They look as if they don't believe me. Maybe it's easier to be a professional photographer than I thought.
The guard has to stop a whole troupe of girls from casually entering the offices and Minda says he has directed her to the opposite side of the stadium. We wander our way over and notice that on the "back" side of the Forum some fans have staked out a spot by the equipment trucks and an RV and are going over their concert booklets in the company of a pretty fair John Taylor imitator. The effect is sometimes quite striking. Later in our wait I saw a guy who, were he a few inches taller, could easily pass for Nick Rhodes in the "Save a Prayer" video. I never knew so many people looked like Duran Duran's synthesizer player. One guy was split, I think, between looking like Rhodes or ex-Japan lead singer David Sylvian. I guess that's a debatable difference anyway.
As we head down to the other door a pleasant looking man with a prominent Duran Duran pass badge says something to us. After two more attempts I interpret his message. He says I can't take my camera into the show. Since I had no photo pass I had already realized the futility of trying to stick a 6/7 pound foot long camera down my form fitting blouse. Delighted at having interpreted his accent I explain why I couldn't understand him. I didn't see his reaction but I'm sure I deserved it.
A Forum security guard named Perry meets us at this next door and Minda resumes her complaints. Her argument tickles me so much I have to walk back up the steps to keep from laughing. As I sit, another bunch of girls (not to be confused with the first two) come by, see Minda at the door, and proceed to beg, plead and threaten their way in. I want to laugh so bad I'm crying instead. Two girls leave, one claiming she didn't want to be labelled a Durannie. Seeing as how she was plastered in buttons...
Perry called some higher-up who spoke to Minda. She was at last satisfied with his polite response to her problem. In the meantime a tape of "Billie Jean" playing inside had caused the girls to suspect that the great Jackson himself was inside (rehearsing, no doubt, to be Duran's opening act). There were more pleas. Perry showed off by insisting the group was inside, changing for the show. Squeal.
Back at the entrance,money is being tossed in a large cardboard box that must have thousands of dollars in it already. The salesguy seems to be having a good time and we exchange a smile as Minda contributes to the major source of tour income.
A mother next to us watches as her two daughters disappear with screeches. The people surrounding the Forum underpass are raising a ruckus. A limo has arrived and tons more people rush to the area. Minda and I take advantage of this by stepping in line. After three waves of fans give into the temptation and rush off, a few trickle back breathlessly.
"I saw them! I swear I saw them!" one girl behind us gasps. "The top was open and they were waving up at us!"
"But dear, we're all going to see them tonight," her mother responded sensibly.
Shortly after this dramatic announcement we hear honking from the underground garage. More screams and pounding feet. We almost have our first faint of evening.
Security is now heavy with green-jacketed Forum people joining the blue windbreaker-ed security forces. If I had to sum all this up in one notable observation, I'd have to say button salesmen had make a killing in previous weeks.
6:30 pm--After freezing and developing aching feet we are let in. Flashlights have to be shown on our tickets as we head to the doors. Who should be checking people but old Perry? He gives a Japaneese gentleman in front of us a tough time, opening his carry-on case.
"I thought you said you didn't have a camera," he declares superciliously. "Didn't he say that? Take it back to the car."
Curiously, he didn't check us at all.
My first impression upon entering is that we are at the circus. Hawkers yell at us from numerous booths. We pass a group of ushers being briefed. I begin to chant, "Extra! Extra! Andy Taylor, two for $5! Get John Taylor for $10! Step right up!", but no one can hear me. They are too busy pushing and shoving for a chance to spend their money.
Ushers are checking tickets at every section. Minda and I are pleasantly surprised at the good location of the seats -- after all, what ticket agency wants to tell you your view from the seats are worse than the janitor's?
7:00 pm--The opening act is doing their sound check. I put in my earplugs as a drum vibrates through me.
7:30 pm--The lights go down and KROQ's Richard Blade goes on stage to announce that he has been speaking to five guys known as Andy, Nick, John, Roger and Simon (what a shameless namedropper). But despite the squealing the band does not yet appear. Instead, Blade announces a 3 piece group called (Something) Fire. They are not Tears for Fears, as has been rumoured. Neither are they incompetent but they have a hard audience to crack. Apparently the group used local acts for openers in each city, with similar results, no doubt. This band is boring, sounding like a monotonous KROQ staple. The people who aren't screaming for Duran Duran have gone out to get a Coke.
The second number, ("What's the Matter"?) third and fourth ("Fire"?) lead Minda and I to discuss more famous trial-by-fire opening acts such as Prince for the Rolling Stones and Jimi Hendrix for the Monkees. The fifth number might be "Are We Mental" (a good question for their booking agent) and then a cover of Simple Minds' "Waterfront" which sounds pretty good.
A guy behind us mentions that ticket scalpers are wandering the stadium counting on rising excitement to sell front row seats. The crowd has been screaming with anticipation at the end of every number, but after the seventh, ("Closed Doors Behind You"?), the band does leave. There is wild applause. I find my sympathies are with them (as Minda makes a parting comment that the lead singer's earrings are bigger than hers). There is something poignant in the way the drummer played intently (his drum kit looking like a toy in comparison with Duran's set-up) and then at the end got up, shrugged into his jacket and ambled off the stage in an 'all-in-a-day's-work' manner. I found myself hoping he would someday play to an audience who wanted to hear him.
There is general laughter as the rising lights catch some people jumping on their chairs and screaming. This must be the first concert for a lot of people. The opening band's roadies take over clearing the stage and "Fame" comes over the PA system, creating a nice irony. As "Burning Down the House" follows an observant fan notes the discrepancy between their heavy Coke sponsorship and the fact that the Forum is selling Pepsi. They'll be all ready for Michael Jackson, except that he'll probably play the LA Arena instead.
A pro photographer is set up at the end of the stadium. On the floor, sound people are being waylaid by fans. Oingo Boingo's "I Love Little Girls" comes on the PA and Minda asides, "Representative of the band, eh?"
Some weirdo in a bow tie starts dancing down the aisles, doing high kicks no less, garnering some applause (why is there always someone applauding a nut?). Minda speculates on whether he's been hired, or is simply a severe egomaniac. It becomes obvious when an official takes him aside. Curiously, women have been getting up to dance with him (why is there always some woman...).
Some balloons are batted around. Many ushers are gathered at the 20 row mark to prevent crowding. Fans gather in groups to talk, the floor looking like a vast social gathering. Counting video, security, light and sound people this group travels with a huge retinue. A fight breaks out by the sound boards as some man attacks a female usher and is dragged off by two men with the female usher following to get some last licks in. The Jacksons, "Enjoy Yourself" is playing.
If anything, the fashion show indoors is even more variated than the show outdoors. Everyone from "flooziest" competitors to vintage 20 cocktail dresses can be seen and many men have also come dressed for the occasion. This looks like a party -- come as you would most like to be. Some children are seated on their parents' shoulders, looking on. It is a surprisingly diverse crowd.
8:40 pm-- Screams ring out as the PA music becomes loud and familiar.
If we didn't know it was "Tiger, Tiger" the "7" logo is displayed on the video screen. The tiger appears and as drums start to pound, notes of true hysteria are heard. The Coke swirl curtains part and fog rolls out. Lights flash and we see Simon and Andy appear on the video screen, their heads together, singing the opening lines to "Is There Something I Should Know". In the words of "Poltergeist", "They're heeere."
Throughout the entire concert, Nick's appearances on screen elicit the loudest screams. The back-up vocalists, B. J. Nelson and Charmaine Burch, sway beside him. Simon takes a drink during the sax break, John pivots and fades at his end of the stage and Andy is glued to the microphone. Simon actually manages an on-key harmonica rendition.
Great body movements reign during "Hungry Like the Wolf". Simon begins this by welcoming us all to "The Fabulous Funky Forum!" and then turns to his right and adds, "See, I said it John!" Then he continues, "It's gotten a lot bigger in two years! Noisier too!"
Minda leans over and adds, "In other words, shut up!"
As le Bon calls "This next song is for everyone who saw us at the Greek!" the band breaks into "The Reflex". The lighting job on this tour is very good, but it will look even better in a smaller venue. Simon misses the microphone stand completely while trying to insert his remote mike. It wouldn't have been so obvious though, if he hadn't turned during a pause in the song, shivered, made a face and then slammed it in properly.
"This next song is about being stuck at a party with a really pretty girl," and lo it is "New Moon on Monday".
Smoke pours out when he announces "Union of the Snake". This is a song that has always sounded better live than in the rather plodding studio version. Of course, you can't hear it that well over the decibels around us.
As the synthesizer quivers, blue lights and smoke cloud the keyboards. Simon rolls out two tambourines and snaps them to "New Religion". The lighting and camera work is amazing as the song closes out focused on Nick. He looks too perfect to be real.
Simon begins to tell us a story about a long walk in the fog, and the knowledge that someone (ghostly shiver) is following you. His ham drama cracks as he makes camp spooky sounds and the band begins "Cracks in the Pavement". The guitar work is good. John makes a face at the break that elicits screams.
The next song is "a song of betrayal-- Of Crime and Passion." It is followed by "Friends of Mine". Watching le Bon is no disappointment. He acts the song out well, sitting on the left edge of the stage and reaching out to the crowd as he sings about "posters on the wall, they were all friends of mine". The video screen is blank for some reason.
A good response greets "The Seventh Stranger". I have been sitting on my folded seat for several numbers now since the two guys next to me have been standing and I can no longer see the whole stage sitting down. The crowd has been getting into it since "New Moon" and it seemed Simon was well aware that it was, in fact, a new moon on a Monday night.
We see Simon alone as the synthesizer wails. The loudest screams of the evening are heard, either because no one expected them to play this complicated synthesized number, or because it's a favorite. "The Chauffeur" sounds emptier, but beautiful. The video coverage is still off though, but perhaps it is better that undivided attention is put on the stage, giving the music a chance to be heard and appreciated. This is the high point of the evening.
When Andy and Simon walk back on stage with guitars, everyone knows what is coming.
"Someone told me it never rains in L.A. Is that true?" Simon asks. "Well if it is true, you'll understand this next song. It's about living a warm, relaxed life. It's about having the strength to take the good with the bad. It's a love song, and it's called 'Save a Prayer'."
The video comes back on halfway through the song, treating us to the sight of Andy obviously chewing gum. Near the end the song obviously goes on longer than it should have because Simon is about to hold his last note when he hears the drums continuing and glances back towards them. Caught, he smiles and continues singing.
"So, would you like to dance now?" he asks as he returns from the side of the stage. "I want to see everyone dancing," he warns and many older fans roar as he yells "This is 'Planet Earth'!"
The audience sings back clearly on the bop-bop-bop lines. For "My Own Way" there is a slight jam as Simon, John and Andy congregate on the left edge of the stage with Simon playing a cowbell.
"Careless Memories" follows, nicely done. Andy climbs up the stage steps and begins doing kicks with the back-up singers, snuggling into BJ Nelson as they share a microphone. As Simon yells "Look out! Look out! Look out!" lights flash on the audience from behind the stage. It is a vast sea of moving bodies on the floor. We only realize they are leaving the stage when Roger miraculously appears, waving to the crowd. Simon also waves as he walks off and John runs from the other side of the stage, pushing Simon behind the curtains.
We know we're supposed to wait for an encore because the lights stay down and the "7" logo is flashed on the screen. Screaming, applause, rhythm clapping, and peak screaming bring them back on stage. John takes off his jacket and slings it into the front rows. Someone probably gave up their life for it. He does look good when he sweats, though.
"You want a bit more energy, right?" Simon calls to the audience. "I think you know this one, don't you?" he says as the drums thud to "Rio".
Le Bon alternately teases and conspires with the audience, who shouts the "alive, alive, alive" line back at him. He emphasizes in reply, "I know what you're thinking!" This time when they leave the stage Simon points backward and waves his finger at someone.
The lights still don't come up and after screaming and clapping isn't good enough, serious foot stomping makes the Forum rumble. They come out again, John and Nick laughing as they run out together, pushing each other to be first.
"Come on, let's all communicate!" le Bon urges. "When no one else in the country wanted to hear us, you did in L.A. And this is what you were listening to!" Mass screams occur before "Girls on Film" even begins. Le Bon instructs the audience to repeat the chorus and help them with the song. He points to two girls in the front row, putting them in charge and adding, "That means you two."
The first chorus comes around and he listens, then makes a face.
"Naaahh," he shakes his head and thrusts the microphone out again. The crowd is twisting the lyrics, making it sound suspiciously like "Boys on Film".
"I can't hear you!" he yells above the noise. The next attempt receives a "You've got to do better than that!"
Finally during the break he introduces the band, including the back-up singers who demonstrate their vocal ranges. I remark to Minda that we're fortunate Simon isn't going to be doing the same.
"Who do you think I'll start with?" Simon teases as he begins on the group's introductions. It is Nick, who nearly causes several people to faint when he takes off his jacket. Why, I can't imagine. Le Bon then goes on to Andy, John and Roger. Next, he is handed a remote camera and points it at the audience, first focusing on a man who remains unaware of his sudden notoriety.
"Up! Look up!" Simon yells at him. "Look up at the screen!" Finally the man does, and looks down just as quickly. Le Bon continues scanning the rows, saying "This is what you look like, this is what it looks like from up here. It's great!"
Lastly, he catches a man head and shoulders above the rest (obviously someone's father) who smiles agreeably as he is shown on the screen. Le Bon cannot resist laughing a very deep, obviously relished chuckle. He returns the camera.
The end jam continues as both he and John lie down on the floor and Andy descends from the steps, putting a foot on le Bon's chest and raising a fist in victory. Simon and John get back up and Simon sings the end chorus as Andy and John do their version of the duck walk across the stage. Then, divesting themselves of instruments, Simon unfurls a banner reading "Thank You" and calls
"Thank you Los Angeles. It has been wonderful and this has been very important to us! It is a night to remember! We thank you!"
It is 10:20 as they leave the stage for the last time, Simon pushing John off this time around.
Minda and I make our way outside, deaf. Our ears have a strange water logged effect and the screaming has begun to sound like a hum. Radio 690 drives around the Forum with a camera perched on the roof, trained on the departing crowd.
Was it worth the hype? The scalped tickets? The partial loss of hearing? I thought about some highlights -- John and Andy boogeying together on stage, Simon nearly pulling both over backward during a song chorus as they clustered on the stage lip, Roger taking off in a drum beating frenzy during "Careless Memories", and Nick sending the audience mental as he at last gave in, after several minutes worth of camera coverage on "Save a Prayer"'s closing, and suddenly cracked a grin at the watching eyes.
Ok, so le Bon was right. It was a night to remember.