Michael Hutchence 1960 - 1997
This afternoon
I watched Michael Hutchence's casket carried out of a cathedral, but I can't
believe that he is dead. As I type this, the X album pounds through the
deserted office and the voice that lilts above the melody is so full of
life it sounds impossible to silence. Hutchence was born to be a rock &
roll star. His charisma was a natural gift, but he worked it as well. He
was like a witch doctor who wanted to keep up with the latest trends in
voodoo because he wanted to have the most power, he wanted the best magic.
Over the past dozen years our paths crossed in bars,
restaurants and dressing rooms and it was impossible not to be seduced by
Michael's charm, his openness and vulnerability, his soft, sometimes mumbled
speaking voice. Hutchence wore his speech impediment like a sort of exotic
star.
INXS were one of Australia's most successful acts
not because the Kick album sold nine million copies but because for 20 years
they performed and recorded their own music and entertained people. It is
one thing for an artist to produce work that fits within its time, but more
often than not they burn brightly and then disappear. To be able to sustain
the muse, that's a hard trick. Think how many other artists have done it.
In their time together, INXS made some extraordinary music - songs from
The Swing still burn 15 years later, while Kick was a national triumph.
In those days the media, which later turned on INXS, reported their world
tour like dispatches from the front as Caesar conquered Gaul. When they
returned home they were hailed in the same way as a conquering army.
The INXS performance that I saw at the ABC studios
in January this year (1997) was as good as any other rock & roll show
I have seen this year, maybe better. Over 12 years things change. One principal
memory of an INXS gig in Albury was the aftershow, where the group found
the best bar in town and then monopolised it until well after closing time.
INXS has always had a great sense of fun about it.
The sound of INXS was an heroic optimism, and Michael's
lyrics repeatedly reiterated his belief that by taking action things would
get better, that by grasping life with both hands and giving it a shake
you cold make some sense of it. Back in 1988/9, when I was going through
a deep crisis, I'd tend to crank up a few tracks on the stereo that would
get me through the night. One of them was "Tiny Daggers" - "Please
try to remember / The door is always there / Don't you
walk on by / The door is always there / All you want
to do is kick it in / All you got to do is walk right in."
It's not the most profound lyric ever written but I heard in its delivery
a man whispering hope, promising that there would be excitement, pain, surprises
and adventure down the track, and that no matter how hopeless and desperate
it seemed, life was worth living.
For that and 50 other songs I am indebted to Michael
Hutchence. I'm proud to be able to say that I knew him, that we hung out
a couple of times. I can't believe I won't see him again. I keep remembering
his usual parting phrase, "Peace." |
