In this
second extract from Bright Lights Dark Shadows, Abba fly from Sydney to Melbourne where
the elements are kinder to them but the fans are just as passionate. In many
ways Abba’s arrival in the capital of Victoria mirrored The Beatles’ visit to
the same city in June 1964.
On Saturday, March 5, Abba boarded their chartered Boeing
707 and flew to Melbourne to continue the tour. The airport reception was
somewhat quieter than in Sydney – only about 100 fans greeted Abba this time,
but it turned out to be the calm before the storm, for once they had reached the
city a truly amazing welcome awaited them.
At 12.30pm Abba were scheduled to attend a Lord Mayor’s
reception in the Melbourne Town Hall. The event had been announced in the media
well in advance, which explained the absence of fans at the airport – they knew
where the real fun was going to happen. When Abba arrived at the town hall in
their Rolls Royces, an estimated 6,000 people stood cheering and screaming at
them, many having waited for the group for several hours. “First, when you
drive out from the airport and you see the street actually lined up all the way
from the airport to the city, you don’t even believe your eyes,” recalled
Frida. “And then you understand, ‘This is actually a reception for us, nobody
else. It’s not the president coming’.”
The Abba entourage stepped out of their cars, entered the
building and climbed the stairs to the balcony to greet the crowd. Excited
radio reporters were covering the event live on the air, blow by blow: “Here
they come now. I can see them! They’re inside. They’re just about to come on
their way out. They’re coming out onto the balcony now … It should be in two to
three seconds … And here they are!”
When Abba finally stepped out on the balcony, the crowd
erupted. All the group had to do was to stand there and wave. During the five
minutes they appeared on the balcony, the screaming never died down. The scenes
outside Melbourne Town Hall constituted irrefutable proof that Abba’s
popularity had exploded far beyond ordinary fame. In Australia, if not quite
elsewhere in the world, it was clearly on a par with The Beatles during 1964,
when they too had appeared, Popelike, on that same Melbourne Town Hall balcony
to greet streets full of frenzied fans.
Afterwards, although the group was meant to stay and
mingle with guests at the reception, they were too exhausted and were escorted
back to their Rolls Royces. But when they got to the cars there were no drivers
– the group wasn’t expected back for another 20 minutes. Hemmed in by watching
crowds gripped by fever-pitch excitement that could bubble over into a riot at
any moment, Abba had to wait in the cars for five very long minutes before the
drivers returned. In the meantime, they were more or less forced to chat to the
media and sign a few autographs.
In the evening, 14,500 people watched Abba’s performance
at the Sidney Myer Music Bowl while a further 16,000 tried to listen outside
the fenced-off concert area. The whole area was full to bursting several hours
in advance. Two sections of fencing were knocked down by the crush of fans when
the gates were opened. Those without tickets were climbing on cars or anything
they could find to try to catch a glimpse of Abba. A teenage boy, who’d made
his way up to the top of a tree to watch the concert, fell and had to be taken
to hospital with suspected head and internal injuries. Otherwise, the audience
was well-behaved: as ever when Abba played, the age span stretched from six to
60 – and beyond.
During one of the shows in Melbourne, this wholesome,
family-friendly group actually managed to cause the kind of stir more
associated with rebellious rock bands, if only for a second or two. Throughout
the tour the group were criticised for their between-song banter, which
appeared stilted and “rehearsed”. Infinitely small variations from night to
night proved that it had in fact been pretty much pre-written, though
proceedings were enlivened one evening in Melbourne when Björn made an
unfortunate improvisation, jokingly calling Benny “you bastard”, an expression
considered far too strong for Australian family audiences. More than two
decades later, Björn still recalled the shocked roar of the audience and the
embarrassment of his inadvertent faux pas: “I only meant to say, ‘You silly
man’.”
Prime Minister Malcolm Fraser attended the first
Melbourne show together with his wife, two daughters and a son. When Abba’s
schedule didn’t allow for any trips to Canberra, Fraser had to bite the bullet
and travel to meet up with the group himself, the political prestige of being
photographed with such a popular act being just too good an opportunity to
miss. Fraser was not especially popular with the general public at this stage
of his tenure, however. When his entrance was announced at the Music Bowl, he
was roundly booed by the audience.
In another eerie reflection of The Beatles in 1964,
further evidence of the insanity of Abba’s popularity was afforded by the fate
of their bed linen from the Old Melbourne Motor Inn. After they left, the hotel
manager cut up the sheets Abba had slept on, stamped them with a special
commemorative message and distributed them through the newspaper the Sunday Observer. Incredibly, the offer,
presented under the somewhat tacky headline “Sleep with ABBA!”, was made public
while the group were still staying at the hotel. No-one had taken the trouble
to ask the group how they felt about it all – they were just confronted with
the situation and had no say in the matter.
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