Midnight Oil: riot police circled as we feared being incinerated with the semi-naked crowd
Drummer Rob Hirst relives the anarchic closing night of a legendary Sydney live music venue in 1980 that the Oils were astonished to survive
by Rob Hirst
Midnight Oil frontman Peter Garrett. For a dramatic encore on the closing night of Sydney's Stage Door Tavern, Garrett smashed up the stage and the punters pulverised the toilets. Photograph: David Corio/Redferns
Trouble was brewing at soundcheck time. Small groups of fashion punks, loitering up in Belmore Park, started hurling the odd rock and bottle down at the riot police who'd formed a shield barrier around the perimeter of the Stage Door Tavern.
Ah, the Stage Door! All the local pub bands played there - Cold Chisel, the Angels, INXS, Mentals, Dragon and Mi-Sex, plus big overseas acts like the Stranglers, Rockpile and Dr Feelgood. Hidden away under an ugly office block near Sydney's Central station, the Stage Door was one of the main inner-city gigs on the late-70s touring circuit. Run by Pat Jay, it managed to survive for years on its gritty alt-rock reputation, its aggressive promotion and the bricks of cash that changed hands in the office. Smoke-filled and as hot as hades, the gig was tough on performers - it was like playing in a giant, sweaty, super-heated bong. Last drinks were just before 3am.
When Pat Jay was given notice to quit over "licensing issues", he resolved not to go quietly. He booked the lineup for closing night on 12 April 1980 - Midnight Oil, Matt Finish, Outline, Vixen. The city was plastered with posters saying: "MIDNIGHT OIL DESTROY THE STAGE DOOR". At the height of imported British punk, it was designed to provoke. And for certain pale-skinned kids (not our crowd) sporting ripped T-shirts, torn black stovepipes, dyed mohawks and facial jewellery, it proved irresistible.
'Midnight Oil Destroy the Stage Door': the poster advertising the final night of the Stage Door Tavern in Sydney on 12 April 1980.
During a previous show there, Pete [singer Peter Garrett] had swung on the sprinkler pipe hanging low over the stage and snapped it. Water had flooded the floor and our gear, so the next day we unscrewed our quad-box speakers and hung them out to dry on the wonky Hills Hoist in the back yard of our Chatswood home base.
Showtime on 12 April. We played Powderworks, Cold Cold Change, No Reaction and Surfing With a Spoon,all at let's-get-the-fuck-outta-here speed. Anything to escape the solid wall of heat and find some cool air. The entry door to the place was only half opened, and the back door had been chained up because "skinheads" had been trying to smash their way inside without paying. Later we found out they'd sold almost 1,200 tickets in a wine bar licensed for less than 200.
It occurred to us that if a fire broke out and the sprinklers were still out of action, we'd very likely be incinerated along with most of the sardined, semi-naked, seriously drunk crowd. In that event, our only hope of survival - which we'd agreed on before the show - was to lock ourselves in the large beer fridge near the rear exit.
For the hectic 50 minutes on stage all I could picture was this: smoking ruins, charred bodies and five musicians frozen rock-solid, still clutching their instruments.
We did survive. Fortunately everyone did. For a dramatic encore, Pete smashed up the stage with the base of his mic stand, the punters pulverised every piece of porcelain in the toilets, and the police charged the stragglers in the park. Pat Jay told everyone he was moving to England, vowing to reunite the Beatles.
Not long after this, fire and noise regulations, the scourge of the pokies and the arrival of dance music killed off the golden age of the sticky-carpet cowboys.
Midnight Oil's latest album, Resist, is out on 18 February. Their final tour is on now
