Forty years ago, Wembley hosted Live Aid, the most famous rock concert in history, the highlight and centrepiece of that magnificent decade: the eighties. One story that has always stuck with me involved the nearby cricket ground that was used as a helicopter landing pad. It made so much noise that every so often, the musicians had to stop playing. Bono stopped playing. Freddie stopped playing. Bowie stopped playing.
One of the lucky attendees at Live Aid was an English friend of mine, the photographer Duncan Raban. Although not particularly fond of football, Duncan was a football photographer and had photoshoots with Pele and Johan Cruyff, among others. However, a music festival featuring every pop star in the world—except for The Pink Floyd—was a tempting prospect for the 28-year-old. Because he wasn't known as a pop photographer, Duncan couldn't possibly obtain press credentials. So, on the day of Live Aid, Duncan told me, he went to Wembley at six in the morning, hoping to sneak in. He had a huge Canon sports lens, a 400ml f/2.8, and two other cameras with him, so he looked professional. The lenses were incredibly heavy. He went to the press gate, where two security guards were stationed. He put down his cameras and started talking to the men. They told him the press gate wouldn't open until ten.
Duncan grabbed some chocolate bars from Woolworths and gave them each one. He also had a small thermos of coffee. Duncan kept chatting with them, asking about their lives and making them laugh. Eventually, Duncan convinced them to let him wait in the media lounge. One of them opened the gate and walked Duncan in. "Do you mind if I leave you alone here?" the security guard asked. After he left, Duncan crept off to the stadium stands and hid.
The still-empty Wembley was all his. The unique photos he took from the stands went around the world. Among them was one of Freddie Mercury, the king of Live Aid. There was a moment when the BBC cameraman was standing next to Freddie. Duncan included him in the photo on purpose, which turned out to be a success. Within a week, he produced a magazine of his photos and sold 300,000 copies. For charity. After this, pop music, not football, was his field of work.
For years, he photographed celebrities without accreditation. He was invited to travel with Tina Turner on her private jet, was dropped off blindfolded at the Rolling Stones' Irish mansion, and he photographed Lionel Richie in a greasy spoon in Chelsea, sitting among the astonished construction workers. It became his specialty to turn pop stars into ordinary people. These days, he photographs ordinary people for his Just Say Hello project and makes them famous.
That Just Say Hello chat worked so well with the security guards in 1985…
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