Inside story of Crowded House’s iconic 1996 Sydney Opera House farewell concert

150,000 people packed the Sydney Opera House forecourt in 1996 for what would be one of the most loved concerts of all time.

In this exclusive extract from Jeff Apter’s new Neil Finn biography Don’t Dream It’s Over, Apted tells the inside story of one of the most iconic concerts in Australian history: Crowded House’s 1996 farewell performance on the steps of the Sydney Opera House …

For a band that had achieved as much as Crowded House, that had built such a loyal and large following, a hit-and-run farewell at the Horseshoe in Toronto seemed like a snub to their fans. Recurring Dream had been a huge hit, charting in Canada and Europe, and reaching number 1 in Australia, New Zealand and the UK, so interest in the band remained as strong as ever. It was such a success in Australia that it made both the 1996 and 1997 year-end charts for biggest selling records (at numbers 6 and 22 respectively), ‘going platinum’ a staggering thirteen times, selling almost one million copies in Australia alone. Surely they needed to say goodbye on a much larger scale.

Finn on-stage at the Sydney Opera House for the Crowded House farewell show.

Jeff Apter's new Neil Finn biography.

Post-Atlanta, Hester (along with Joe Camilleri) had purchased the Elwood Beach House Café, and it had become a draw for Crowded House fans. In November 1996 the band gathered there for a press conference. It was revealed that after much backroom negotiating, particularly by their Australian manager, Grant Thomas, Crowded House would sign off in grand style with a free show on the forecourt of the Sydney Opera House, where the Royal Botanic Garden would provide a stunning backdrop. The only other time Neil had played at the Opera House — near the Opera House, to be precise — was the November 1979 Concert of the Decade, sponsored by 2SM, which was staged on the steps. Split Enz tore through ‘I See Red’ and ‘Give It a Whirl’ on a day that featured everyone from Skyhooks to Stevie Wright to the Captain Matchbox Whoopee Band. But this would be bigger. Far bigger.

The concert, known officially as ‘Farewell to the World’, was set down for Saturday, 23 November, with local acts Custard, You Am I and Powderfinger helping warm up what was anticipated to be a sizeable audience. All proceeds would go to the Sydney Children’s Hospital and the Australian Cord Blood Foundation. And Hester agreed to rejoin the band for one final hurrah. This would be a far more fitting finale than a dispirited set at the Horseshoe Tavern.

Huge crowds outside Sydney Opera House for Crowded House's last farewell concert.

In an effort to dust off the cobwebs, Neil and the band played two warm-up gigs at the Corner Hotel in the Melbourne suburb of Richmond, on 20 and 21 November. The audience was made up primarily of insiders, Crowded House fan club members and a few well-informed punters. The mood was upbeat; on the first night, in between ‘Don’t Dream It’s Over’ and ‘There Goes God’, Neil squeezed in a few bars of Patrick Hernandez’s disco hit ‘Born To Be Alive’. On the second night, during a lengthy encore, Hester forgot the lyrics to his own ‘Italian Plastic’. ‘You wrote the bloody thing,’ said a smiling Neil as he gave Hester his cues.

All four band members sang a verse, before Hester took over, conducting the audience like the master of ceremonies he was born to be. Then they tore into ‘I’m Still Here’, a madcap jam that had been recorded while everyone was high during the Woodface sessions. Neil played drums as Hester rapped: ‘We’re going up to Sydney town/We’re gonna make a lot of noise/And then we’re gonna go.’

Neil arrived in Sydney on the Friday and checked into the Sebel Townhouse, a favourite haunt of visiting musicians. He dropped in to see Hester and they shared a joint in Hester’s room. It didn’t help relax Neil, who was slowly coming to grips with the enormity of the upcoming event. ‘I had one puff,’ Neil recalled, ‘and it absolutely destroyed me.’ He had to walk around Elizabeth Bay for an hour or so to clear his head. This would be one gig best played straight.

Later that afternoon, the band played a short afternoon set for patients and their families at the Sydney Children’s Hospital in Randwick, a reminder to everyone involved that the event was not only a farewell to the band but a fundraiser. On what was meant to be show day, Saturday, a rainstorm forced the organisers to delay the concert by 24 hours. But there was one problem: several thousand fans had already reached the site. Neil made it known that the fans — espe- cially those who couldn’t make it back the next day — were welcome to stay for the soundcheck, which would still go ahead. A crowd of several thousand looked on as Neil and the band played for about an hour. It could well have been both the longest and the best-attended soundcheck in local music history.

Afterwards, when Neil spoke with some fans who hadn’t planned for an extended stay — many had travelled interstate and now wouldn’t be home until Monday — he offered to call their bosses and explain why they couldn’t make it back to work on time. He figured it was the least he could do.

Fortunately, the weather was fine on the Sunday and by late afternoon the Opera House forecourt was awash with fans—‘a human sea’, in the words of The Sydney Morning Herald’s Jon Casimir. The crowd built and built and just kept on growing; an official estimate put it at around 150,000, way bigger than the band or promoter Michael Chugg could have ever imagined.

Backstage, Tim Finn hugged his father Dick, while Sharon, Liam and Elroy were nearby, as they so often were for Neil. Noel Crombie, who’d helped the band design their stage set for the night, was also in the house. NSW premier Bob Carr dropped by for a photo op.

Then it was showtime, early evening, as a full moon lit up the harbour city. ‘The moment I walked on stage,’ Neil said afterwards, ‘I said, “This has got to be one of our best shows.”’ He bounded into the spotlight wearing a short- sleeved shirt that he’d picked up that morning in a shop on Oxford Street, which, most appropriately, featured a New Zealand kiwi on the front. It was possibly the first time Neil had bought his own stage outfit — that was always Seymour’s domain, or Noel Crombie’s during his days with Split Enz. As for Seymour, he looked out over the huge crowd and chan- nelled British actor Sir Alec Guinness, quietly telling himself to know his lines ‘and don’t bump into the furniture’.

Neil couldn’t stop grinning as they launched into ‘Mean to Me’ — there were just so many people looking on. But that came with its complications — as the set progressed, things got very lively on the forecourt, and bodies and a few inanimate objects (some inflatable) flew in all directions. The more daring punters crowd-surfed on boogie boards. ‘There are some spectacular acrobatics going on out there,’ Neil said warily between songs. ‘Just be careful.’ During an urgent ‘Locked Out’, members of the crowd down the front soared into the air as if they were bouncing on a tram- poline. A particularly adventurous onlooker then scaled one of the Opera House’s sails. ‘Please be careful up there,’ Neil implored. The band was relieved to learn that no one was seriously hurt during the show, although the St John Ambulance team did a lively trade throughout the night.

L-R: Nick Seymour, Paul Hester, Mark Hart and Neil Finn at a press conference before their farewell concert.

As he played, Neil, by his own admission, tried to stay both in the moment and outside it, too, reminding himself to take ‘mental snapshots’ of the event unfolding before him. ‘It was an extraordinary sensory experience having that many people,’ he said. It was also a huge adrenaline rush — the band needed to remind themselves not to play too fast or too hard, even though their bodies were telling them some- thing else altogether.

Still, Hester’s bony backside hardly touched the chair during a frenetic ‘When You Come’, an early peak of their 25-song set, while Neil bounded across the stage as though he had springs in his shoes, thrashing away at his acoustic guitar. And thousands of hands reached skywards during ‘Four Seasons in One Day’ and again during ‘Better Be Home Soon’, Neil conducting the audience like a maestro. ‘That was great; we almost lifted the Opera House six inches then,’ Neil said as the crowd roared their approval. ‘We’ll have it by the end of the night.’

After a stirring ‘Distant Sun’, Neil shielded his eyes and looked out over the mass of humanity, paying his respects to the ‘people right on the back steps up there — how you doing?’ And then he glanced towards the many boats that had gath- ered on the harbour. ‘Anybody fallen over yet?’ he asked.

Just at that moment, a tired and emotional punter somehow made his way on stage, embracing a stunned Neil in a fierce man-hug before being escorted away by security. As Neil began the next song, ‘Into Temptation’, a chant broke out in the mosh pit at the front of the stage: ‘Water! Water!’ Neil quickly changed his lyrics to get their message across. ‘You opened up your door/I think they need some water.’ Hester and Seymour obliged by throwing out bottles of Evian. Problem solved.

Neil Finn and Nick Seymour on-stage during soundcheck.

A run-through of ‘Sister Madly’ followed, with Hester’s replacement, Peter Jones, taking over the drum kit while Hester played up front with Neil and Seymour. Neil then announced, ‘It’s time we had a little bit of brotherly presence on stage now,’ and Tim — who seemed to be dressed for a cruise, in cream pants and a T-shirt, teaming sandals with socks — strode on stage. The brothers sang ‘Weather With You’ and as they did, Neil and Tim locked eyes. It was a rare public moment of intimacy. During the instrumental break, Neil swayed and danced around his brother, who grinned broadly. It was yet another massive moment.

‘It’s a bit emotional for us tonight,’ Neil, the master of Kiwi understatement, told the gathering. ‘But it feels more like a celebration than a funeral, doesn’t it?’ The audience response made it clear that Neil was right. Plenty of tears would be shed afterwards, of course — some during the show, too, as the TV cameras zoomed in on many fans who were choked up, bawling their eyes out as they tried to come to terms with the end of Crowded House.

The band played two lengthy encores. The big closer was, naturally, ‘Don’t Dream It’s Over’, their signature song. Emotions were heavy; Seymour admitted that he started to choke on the harmonies. He forced himself to think of something else — anything, really — to get him through without bursting into tears. ‘Thanks’ was about all Neil could manage, as the closing notes of ‘Don’t Dream’ wafted over the huge gathering and nearby Sydney Harbour. ‘It’s been a blast.’ Fireworks then lit up the sky.

Mission accomplished: The band said farewell in style.

But the night wasn’t quite over. The four band members, still flying high from the show, reached their small trailer backstage and were shocked to be greeted by a complete stranger, who’d somehow evaded security.

‘Who are you?’ Neil asked him.

‘I just climbed over the back fence, mate.’

Neil, Hester, Seymour and Hart looked at each other, shrugged, gave the man a beer and asked him to join them. It was a bizarre coda to what had been an otherworldly experience. As far as Neil was concerned, ‘It summed up the whole day, really.’

Farewell to the World wasn’t just a fabulous last hurrah for Crowded House. The concert raised a staggering $387,825 for charity.

This is an extract from Don’t Dream It’s Over by Jeff Apter (Allen & Unwin, $34.99), available now.

Originally published as Inside story of Crowded House’s iconic 1996 Sydney Opera House farewell concert