Michael Kelland Hutchence
1960 - 1997
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| Michael Kelland Hutchence. Memorial. 1960 - 1997 |
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| Paula Yates holding Tiger Lily. Kylie Minogue. The casket full of Tiger Lillies. |
St Andrews Cathedral
Sydney
When I wrote my piece about the untimely death of Michael Hutchence back in 1997 it was a very sad event to cover. But the up roar my story caused when published, was baffling. Why would my article be so offensive? It was covered by every newspaper and TV station in Australia, as well as the International press. When it went to print, I received a flurry of calls and text messages from friends saying things like, “What the hell were you thinking?” to “You better go underground for a while." I couldn’t understand it. I wrote a respectful piece praising a great man, depicting the events on the day of his funeral. Why all the fuss?
I rushed out to grab a copy of Revolver, where the offending article was printed. I searched for it everywhere but couldn’t find the story in the body of the paper. I rang a friend and asked them what they were on about, and they directed me to the offending page – the Live Music Scene section. And there it was, placed in the Live review section of the paper like it was his last big gig. It was utterly disrespectful. I was mortified, because my name was attached to the piece.
Later that day, guitarist for INXS, Andrew Farris appeared on television, visibly upset, and berated anyone and everyone who pretended to know Michael. He didn't call me out, but I'm pretty sure I was one of those people he was referring to. I get it. He was hurt, grieving and no doubt, in shock. INXS were utterly devastated. As were his family, friends and fans. Me included.
And quite frankly, I don't blame Andrew Farris for being angry. I was angry. But my voice was drowned out. The more I protested, the worse it got. I literally had to go underground to wait it out.
Australia couldn't wait to see their local Heroes return to the fold. We all wanted to see them live again. They had been missed. They were loved, and they were about to find out just how much, until the unthinkable happened.
However, at no time did I or do I profess to know Michael Hutchence, not by any stretch of the imagination. I've met Michael on a number of occasions. I was a music journalist writing for The Drum Media, so its safe to say our paths would cross from time to time.
I'd met Michael years before I became a music journalist, and just before INXS were about to hit the world stage with a vengeance, and take the world by storm. I met Michael via one of his flatmates, Nick Conroy. We were in the same class/year at acting school, The Ensemble Studios in North Sydney. We were mates. We'd occasionally hang out on weekends, mostly Saturday's. We'd go to the Paddington Markets in Sydney, which was the hip place to be and be seen in Sydney during the 1980s.
But the truth was, we were supposed to be in North Sydney to hear a lecture from our guru of the Ensemble Theatre, Hayes Gordon. He only gave lectures once a week and it was always on a Saturday.
So I'd trot off to Nick's terrace house in Little Darlinghurst, to get him organised! This often took a while. I was forever waiting for Nick to get out of bed, no doubt after a big night out. I'd make myself a cuppa and sit in the kitchen. Nick was a snappy dresser, and always looked good, so getting ready always took time. I’d chat to whomever was there at the time. Sometimes it was Jenny Morris who also shared the terrace with the boys, and other times it was Michael, who'd bounce into the kitchen to make a cuppa. We'd have a brief chat about this or that, nothing deep or meaningful, just friendly banter.
Actually, Michael would yell out to Nick to "hurry up" and I'd join him. We'd have a chuckle, coz Nick was often hungover. Anyone who's been hungover will know, yelling and loud noises is unbearable when you've got a throbbing head. Nick would stagger down, looking good as per usual, but often worse for wear.
So depending on how bad Nick's hangover was or mine for that matter. I'd be out partying all night too. Sometimes I'd go straight from the party to Nicks place. No point going home to Bondi then coming back again to Darlinghurst. Anyway, depending how worse for wear we were, determined if we'd go to the lecture or go to the markets.
Another encounter.
A friend of mine Maria, checked out Michael's old Citroen car he was selling. He wanted to get rid of it before they moved to London. I took her around to meet to him and check it out. I chatted with Nick inside, while they discussed a possible sale outside. In the end Maria declined. It had been parked out the front for so long, it was in pretty bad shape, full of rust and ready for the scrap heap.
And another connection.
I also shared a flat in North Bondi with Saskia Post for five years. Saskia played Anna in Dogs In Space with Michael Hutchence, who played the lead character. I visited them on the set in Melbourne, and I'm in one of the party scenes. Saskia and Edward Clayton-Jones, who had a role in the film as a band member, fell in love during the making of Dogs In Space. And they were the Godparents of my son. So the connections can be measured and proven.
As a music journalist for The Drum Media for 12 years, it's safe to say the connections within the music and film industries in Sydney and Melbourne are quite small, and interconnected. It's more like two degrees of separation. But if someone had asked Michael who I was, I’m sure he would've said “Allison who?” They'd have to join-the-dots for him.
The real culprit in this saga, was the then Editor of Revolver, Adam Zammit. He is the one that really should fall-on-his-sword. He let me cop the criticism. It's worth noting that writers have no control over where a story is placed in a magazine or newspaper. We hand-in our work in good faith and pray for the best. In this instance, I was thrown under the bus!
Adam and I had numerous discussions before the funeral took place where the story was going to go. It was to be placed in the middle section of the paper. We discussed who would supply the photos, as I didn't feel comfortable taking photos, especially within the cathedral, he assured me he had plenty of photos and he'd send someone. As it turned out, there was a media blackout, and no photos allowed within the cathedral.
In Zammit's infinite wisdom, he chose to put the story in the Live Scene section, like it was his last big gig.
I rushed out to grab a copy of Revolver, where the offending article was printed. I searched for it everywhere but couldn’t find the story in the body of the paper. I rang a friend and asked them what they were on about, and they directed me to the offending page – the Live Music Scene section. And there it was, placed in the Live review section of the paper like it was his last big gig. It was utterly disrespectful. I was mortified, because my name was attached to the piece.
Later that day, guitarist for INXS, Andrew Farris appeared on television, visibly upset, and berated anyone and everyone who pretended to know Michael. He didn't call me out, but I'm pretty sure I was one of those people he was referring to. I get it. He was hurt, grieving and no doubt, in shock. INXS were utterly devastated. As were his family, friends and fans. Me included.
And quite frankly, I don't blame Andrew Farris for being angry. I was angry. But my voice was drowned out. The more I protested, the worse it got. I literally had to go underground to wait it out.
Australia couldn't wait to see their local Heroes return to the fold. We all wanted to see them live again. They had been missed. They were loved, and they were about to find out just how much, until the unthinkable happened.
However, at no time did I or do I profess to know Michael Hutchence, not by any stretch of the imagination. I've met Michael on a number of occasions. I was a music journalist writing for The Drum Media, so its safe to say our paths would cross from time to time.
I'd met Michael years before I became a music journalist, and just before INXS were about to hit the world stage with a vengeance, and take the world by storm. I met Michael via one of his flatmates, Nick Conroy. We were in the same class/year at acting school, The Ensemble Studios in North Sydney. We were mates. We'd occasionally hang out on weekends, mostly Saturday's. We'd go to the Paddington Markets in Sydney, which was the hip place to be and be seen in Sydney during the 1980s.
But the truth was, we were supposed to be in North Sydney to hear a lecture from our guru of the Ensemble Theatre, Hayes Gordon. He only gave lectures once a week and it was always on a Saturday.
So I'd trot off to Nick's terrace house in Little Darlinghurst, to get him organised! This often took a while. I was forever waiting for Nick to get out of bed, no doubt after a big night out. I'd make myself a cuppa and sit in the kitchen. Nick was a snappy dresser, and always looked good, so getting ready always took time. I’d chat to whomever was there at the time. Sometimes it was Jenny Morris who also shared the terrace with the boys, and other times it was Michael, who'd bounce into the kitchen to make a cuppa. We'd have a brief chat about this or that, nothing deep or meaningful, just friendly banter.
Actually, Michael would yell out to Nick to "hurry up" and I'd join him. We'd have a chuckle, coz Nick was often hungover. Anyone who's been hungover will know, yelling and loud noises is unbearable when you've got a throbbing head. Nick would stagger down, looking good as per usual, but often worse for wear.
So depending on how bad Nick's hangover was or mine for that matter. I'd be out partying all night too. Sometimes I'd go straight from the party to Nicks place. No point going home to Bondi then coming back again to Darlinghurst. Anyway, depending how worse for wear we were, determined if we'd go to the lecture or go to the markets.
Another encounter.
A friend of mine Maria, checked out Michael's old Citroen car he was selling. He wanted to get rid of it before they moved to London. I took her around to meet to him and check it out. I chatted with Nick inside, while they discussed a possible sale outside. In the end Maria declined. It had been parked out the front for so long, it was in pretty bad shape, full of rust and ready for the scrap heap.
And another connection.
I also shared a flat in North Bondi with Saskia Post for five years. Saskia played Anna in Dogs In Space with Michael Hutchence, who played the lead character. I visited them on the set in Melbourne, and I'm in one of the party scenes. Saskia and Edward Clayton-Jones, who had a role in the film as a band member, fell in love during the making of Dogs In Space. And they were the Godparents of my son. So the connections can be measured and proven.
As a music journalist for The Drum Media for 12 years, it's safe to say the connections within the music and film industries in Sydney and Melbourne are quite small, and interconnected. It's more like two degrees of separation. But if someone had asked Michael who I was, I’m sure he would've said “Allison who?” They'd have to join-the-dots for him.
The real culprit in this saga, was the then Editor of Revolver, Adam Zammit. He is the one that really should fall-on-his-sword. He let me cop the criticism. It's worth noting that writers have no control over where a story is placed in a magazine or newspaper. We hand-in our work in good faith and pray for the best. In this instance, I was thrown under the bus!
Adam and I had numerous discussions before the funeral took place where the story was going to go. It was to be placed in the middle section of the paper. We discussed who would supply the photos, as I didn't feel comfortable taking photos, especially within the cathedral, he assured me he had plenty of photos and he'd send someone. As it turned out, there was a media blackout, and no photos allowed within the cathedral.
In Zammit's infinite wisdom, he chose to put the story in the Live Scene section, like it was his last big gig.
Hints that it’s a story and not a review
It has a title
It is over 1000 words
It not a critique
It is written in chronological order
Why write about it now? I need to clear a few things up, because putting his story in the Live Review section was a blight on my character, and my credibility. It's bothered me for years. In fact, it's pissed me off for years! And it all but destroyed my music journalism career.
There has been a lot of press about Michael Hutchence recently, with the 20th anniversary of his death and the mini series, Never Tear Us Apart aired recently.
Every time a Sir Bob Geldof name is mentioned I'd cringe as well. His halo hangs around his neck, his wings firmly contracted. Unfortunately, every time Geldof is mentioned, so is Michael Hutchence. And I say unfortunate, because he was entangled and enmeshed in the messy divorce of Bob Geldof and Paula Yates. As well as the ongoing struggle to get Paula and Tiger Lily home for Christmas the summer of 1997.
The whole drama was to end in tragedy for Michael, Paula and now Peaches.
Paula Yates died from a heroin overdose on the 17th of September 2000.
And Geldof got full custody of Tiger Lily.
Peaches Geldof died suddenly. Some reports state that she never quite got over the death of her mother Paula Yates. She posted a pic of herself as a toddler with her mother, the night before her death. Maybe she knew something was about to happen, or maybe she just posted a pic of herself with her mum.
The British tabloids suggested it was the juice fast she was on that caused her death. The Coroner is awaiting the toxicology report before coming to any conclusions. So will I.
April 30th, 2014 - The coroner's report is back: Peaches Geldof died of a heroin drug overdose.
History repeats, and repeats and repeats!
All I'm guilty of is attending the funeral and submitting an article, like thousands of other media contingent at the time. That's it. And to add insult to injury - I never got paid. Maybe it's just as well. I don't want any money from Zammit. It's tainted.
It's time to put all that behind me.
I want to take this opportunity to apologise if my story offended anyone. It was never meant to hurt anyone. And if you read the article below, you can see it is all I said it was. Respectful. Sad. Tragic.
It's Adam Zammit who needs to take responsibility for his actions. He owes me, the Hutchence family, and INXS members an apology for treating Michael Hutchence tragic death in a flippant, insensitive and cynical manner.
Zammit went on to become the CEO of the Big Day Out. And Look how that turned out! It's all over. The BDO is no longer. One of the best music festivals in Australia, that inspired a host of local and international festivals, is now dead in the water. Well done Zammit. Everything you touch seems to get tainted.
_________________________________________________________________________________There has been a lot of press about Michael Hutchence recently, with the 20th anniversary of his death and the mini series, Never Tear Us Apart aired recently.
Every time a Sir Bob Geldof name is mentioned I'd cringe as well. His halo hangs around his neck, his wings firmly contracted. Unfortunately, every time Geldof is mentioned, so is Michael Hutchence. And I say unfortunate, because he was entangled and enmeshed in the messy divorce of Bob Geldof and Paula Yates. As well as the ongoing struggle to get Paula and Tiger Lily home for Christmas the summer of 1997.
The whole drama was to end in tragedy for Michael, Paula and now Peaches.
Paula Yates died from a heroin overdose on the 17th of September 2000.
And Geldof got full custody of Tiger Lily.
Peaches Geldof died suddenly. Some reports state that she never quite got over the death of her mother Paula Yates. She posted a pic of herself as a toddler with her mother, the night before her death. Maybe she knew something was about to happen, or maybe she just posted a pic of herself with her mum.
The British tabloids suggested it was the juice fast she was on that caused her death. The Coroner is awaiting the toxicology report before coming to any conclusions. So will I.
April 30th, 2014 - The coroner's report is back: Peaches Geldof died of a heroin drug overdose.
History repeats, and repeats and repeats!
All I'm guilty of is attending the funeral and submitting an article, like thousands of other media contingent at the time. That's it. And to add insult to injury - I never got paid. Maybe it's just as well. I don't want any money from Zammit. It's tainted.
It's time to put all that behind me.
I want to take this opportunity to apologise if my story offended anyone. It was never meant to hurt anyone. And if you read the article below, you can see it is all I said it was. Respectful. Sad. Tragic.
It's Adam Zammit who needs to take responsibility for his actions. He owes me, the Hutchence family, and INXS members an apology for treating Michael Hutchence tragic death in a flippant, insensitive and cynical manner.
Zammit went on to become the CEO of the Big Day Out. And Look how that turned out! It's all over. The BDO is no longer. One of the best music festivals in Australia, that inspired a host of local and international festivals, is now dead in the water. Well done Zammit. Everything you touch seems to get tainted.
AN ELEGANT WASTE OF A WONDERFUL
LIFE.
The Death & Funeral of
Michael Hutchence 1960-1997.
The death of Michael
Hutchence was not, in my opinion suicide, but a tragic accident. A bold
statement you might say, I can't suspend my disbelief, but there were no obvious indicators forewarning
friends and family of the impending tragedy that took place at the Ritz Carlton, Double Bay in room 524 on Saturday the 22nd of November.
Exactly
two months to the day of his 38th birthday, he was found hung by his
own belt, on his knees. A simple case of suicide, I don’t think so. The whole
thing sounds suss, but according to the police there were no suspicious
circumstances to shroud the case. I’m not saying he was murdered either,
although the heavy handed security guards escorting the stars to their seats at
the funeral would suggest otherwise. The fact that the bomb squad had been
through St Andrews Cathedral with a fine-toothed comb creates an intriguing
mystery. I dare say, only Michael knows the real story.
To get into the funeral one had to pass through a glut of people. Harry M Millers people. To get into the actual Cathedral you had to pass through the bouncers who checked your name off the door. The photographers thought I was someone as I walked in with my head bowed and my hat covering my face, the cameras went berserk. Sorry to disappoint. I was uncomfortable being photographed on such a sad occasion, only a taste of the life Michael lived daily.
The coffin, centred in the top-middle section of the Cathedral directly opposite the chief mourners, was covered with beautiful Irises and one solo yellow Lilly for his daughter, Heavenly Hiranni Tiger Lily. I was immediately struck by the reality of the situation, as I was escorted to my seat close to the back of the Cathedral. And the reality of the media circus created by Harry. Camera’s in every corner and as many TVs placed high on the support columns. The strain, pain and disbelief in the sea of searching eyes, was horrid.
The last time I spoke to Michael was eight years ago. As I looked around, I see familiar faces of a great era. The Farris Brothers (before the name change) and just before INXS hit the world stage, bought back happier memories of the narrow terrace house at Little Darlinghurst where Hutchence lived with an acting school buddy, Nick Conroy and singer Jenny Morris. I used to go there on weekends to meet up with Nick to go to Paddington Markets. Hutchence dynamic magnetic self, ensured a tight scene of friends constantly visited the house. The cool set. And of course his beloved 1960’s Citroen permanently parked out the front.
My heart skipped a
beat as Michelle Bennet, his former girlfriend, sombrely walked to her seat.
And then the jet set arrives as Helena Christensen took to her seat. But it was
the sight of a grief stricken Paula Yates holding Tiger Lily followed closely
by Nick Cave and partner that brought the tears flowing freely for the duration
of the service.
By My Side began the service as the choirboys and the
clergy took their positions. The Very Reverend Boak Jobbins, Dean of Sydney
commenced the funeral mass and counseled the mourners to be “realistic”.
“Death," he said, “Is a sinister figure in black, patiently waiting, knowing
that in time each one of us will meet him…” Then the Reverend invited Richard
(Dickie) Wilkins to give the eulogy on behalf of the fans. An inappropriate
choice as far as I’m concerned. The President of the INXS fan club would have
been a better assignment. More importantly, why wasn’t Molly Meldrum a key
speaker? He helped kick start their careers and supported INXS until the bitter
end.
Within ten seconds of Nick Cave’s tribute to Michael, Into My Arms, some crazy guy (serial pest Peter Hoare) starts screaming incoherently. I’ve read reports that he yelled out "Michael is dead”. Der… Well, I was directly underneath the madman who scaled the balcony, and smashed light bulbs with his bare feet and I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. Nick continued unperturbed, while the police quickly got him (the crazy guy) out. This moment unsettled all of us and pissed off the male mourners, whom I’m sure would have throttled the intruder if they had a chance. Interestingly, Nick had requested a private performance, so those watching coverage on Channel 7 would have missed the drama. More likely he did not want to be a part of the media circus.
Andrew Farris gave a
moving speech, reminding us of Michael’s song-writing skills and love of life.
He implored fans and friends not to do what Hutchence has done, “He would not
want us to follow his path." But
it was the speeches of his sister Tina Schorr (who lives in America) and
brother Rhett that had the congregation sobbing.
The choir started with Psalm 121, the acoustics of the Cathedral enveloped the congregation. Simply sublime. The address of the Very Reverend Boak Jobbins was handled eloquently. He informed us that there are no clever words or answers to this tragedy, and he’s right. We could pontificate til the cows come home and still have no answers. More prayers were said and songs sung before his brother and INXS band members carried the coffin down the long aisle, as the strains of Never Tear Us Apart closed the ceremony.
Flashes of Michael back in Little Darlinghurst when Shaboo Shabah was roaring up the charts come to mind. Hutchence was so full of excitement of what the future held for him and the band.
Paula could barely walk, she had to be held by the over protective nanny/friend who kept everyone at arms length. Kym Wilson kept a low profile. I unintentionally walked out with the Minogue milieu. This is utterly irrelevant, but up close Kylie Minogue is tiny, and has skin like porcelain.
Thunderclaps shed swollen raindrops as INXS placed his body into the waiting hearse and kissed him goodbye. So terribly sad.
On the 27th
of November 1942, a remarkable man was born, Jimi Hendrix.
On the 27th
of November 1997, an equally important person was buried, Michael Kelland Hutchence.
He died in his
hometown, on Australian soil having lived a full and utterly elegant life at age
38. RIP.
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| Invite to The Grand Pacific Blue Room, complete with typo of Michael's full name. It is not Frank but indeed John. |
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| Order of service |
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| Kylie Minogue & Helena Christensen. |
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| Printed article. |
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| Michael with Kylie |
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| Michael with Kylie Minogue |
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| M&K |
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| M&K |
2 comments:
His name is Michael Kelland JOHN and not Frank ... plus I don't think the family would have send out this misprint ....
I have done some investigation and discovered that you are indeed correct. His full name is Michael Welland John Hutchence. I agree with you, I doubt very much the family got that wrong. I checked with a few colleagues who also had invites and they all have Frank instead of John. I can only assume the printers got it wrong and it was too late to change it.
Thank you for pointing that out.
Cheers Allison
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