‘I don’t need anybody else to pat me on the back and say, “You know what? You are a real musician.” Stick your “real” in your ass, mate. I’ve been doing it all my life.’
– Russell Crowe
Russell’s former band mate Graham Silcock remembers an encounter with Tom Sharplin not so long ago. ‘He came into the shop the other day and mentioned that Russell said he’d like to do a Santana feel for a song. Tom apparently said, “You want someone who plays like Santana?” Russell said, “No, we’ll get Carlos Santana.” He was serious about it. Now that he’s got the power and the contacts, I guess he can do what he always dreamed of.’
There is a touch of sadness about Russell’s affair with music. He loved playing with his band before they split – and if he could just tour on a whim at bars around the world he would, but it wouldn’t be fair on his bandmates. However, while his talents lie in acting not music, if he had the choice he would prefer to be blessed with musical talent.
‘From my early twenties and first professional musical, when there was some acting stuff required, I realised I was good at it. I am a virtuoso in my job in that there’s not an actor I can’t go into a scene with and be absolutely confident that, whatever is required of my character, I can do it. If it had been that way with my music, I would have never gone near acting. But I am a mediocre guitarist and have a so-so singing voice. If I could sit with Eric Clapton, play guitar and get him to give me a little wink, that would be perfect. I know it is not going to happen, because the talent is not there.’
He added, ‘I’m the least ambitious person in the band when it comes to the band being in the people’s eye. For me, it’s just all about writing the songs and recording them the way I want them to be and the way that showcases the talents that are in the band. That for me is success. I don’t need anybody else to pat me on the back and say “You know what? You are a real musician.” Stick your “real” in your ass, mate. I’ve been doing it all my life and I’m gonna keep doing it. If you’re annoyed by it now, gee whiz, you’re gonna be really pissed in 10 years. So you might as well just relax.’
In 2001 Russell commented on the record industry, saying, ‘We spoke to some of the biggest record companies in the world. It became obvious they didn’t give a shit about what we were doing. I guess I can understand that. They’re there to sell records, and that would mean cashing in on the singer’s Hollywood celebrity, and riding on the coat tails of the hit movies.
‘We almost signed a deal with one label, and then I said, “Oh by the way, you can’t release it for another six months.” They freaked. They couldn’t see the sense of not releasing it near one of my new movies. As far as I’m concerned – and I realise I’m in a privileged position where I can make these stands – if the record is going to sell, it should do it on its own merit. Listen, music is such a passion for me. I don’t want anyone to prostitute it for me. If I wanted to be a slut, I’d do it myself.’
He had been with his band, 30 Odd Foot of Grunts, for 13 years but, even after a name change to The Ordinary Fear of God, he decided to forge his career as a solo artist. He played his first solo outing on 20 July, 2005 at a trendy Sydney club.
He had already suffered disappointment after his debut song Raewyn failed to chart in the Top 100 in either the UK or America. It was, he said, a song that made ‘both men and women cry, think and call their parents.’
‘I have emails from Sting and Billy Bragg, two of my writing heroes, that give testament to the quiet power of the song.’
However, Sting is said to have emailed Russell the following message – which proved to be wholly accurate: ‘Your song is a royal gift to Charlie [Crowe’s son] and I’m touched you would send it to me. Will it get on the radio? Not a chance, mate. The days of the confessional, biographical song are over and not even you, Mr Crowe, can bring it back.’
It didn’t help that his former bass player Garth Adams hit out at how the band had been disbanded. ‘He didn’t tell us he was going to do it. You’d think after all that time he would let us know personally, but no. I read about it in the newspapers.
‘Once before he cancelled a tour and I heard about it on the radio. It’s very disappointing but that’s just the way he works.’
Apart from music, Russell loves his sports. He’s a Leeds United fan but his real passion is rugby, as exemplified by his wearing a rugby shirt everywhere. He is known to sit down with some beers and a Chinese takeaway to watch re-runs of his favourite team, the South Sydney Rabbitohs. ‘I was five when I first saw them,’ he said. ‘My dad took me along with a mate of his and the first match was Souths versus Saint George. We lost. Dad was a cheap bastard and got these tickets on the Hill, which was the rough section of the ground. I remember a point in the game where a decision went against us and the beer cans started flying and I was thinking, “What are we doing here?” But I was hooked.’
In 2003 he ran up a £1,000 phone bill following New Zealand in the World Cup, and he even paid $42,000 for the timekeeper’s bell used for the team’s first match in 1908.
In 2006, Russell and businessman Peter Holmes bought a 75 per cent share of the South Sydney club, when a £2.1 million bid was accepted by the shareholders – which saw Russell tell them: ‘Let’s vote yes. Let’s get into bed together. I hope you respect me in the morning.’
After the bid was accepted he told journalists, ‘People talk about the club being owned by the people because it serves a certain purpose, but I don’t think a team that consistently runs last serves the community any purpose at all.’
Pledging to not take any profits, Russell insists that all money will be plowed back into the club. So what’s it like owning a club you supported as a boy?
‘It’s incredible. But it’s quite a tiring experience too. People say that we run it too emotionally, that we are too passionate about it. Is there such a thing? Can you be too passionate about the future of your players, their life during rugby, their life after rugby?’
Fans weren’t won over easily, though, preferring the club be in the hands of the community rather than a Hollywood superstar. Russell has always had an association with the team, however. A year earlier he had visited the team’s dressing room at half-time during a game when they were 12-6 down to the Canberra Raiders. Although, he never said anything directly to the players, they did win the game 29-16 and he promptly had a beer with them after the game. Coach Shaun McRae said at the time, ‘It’d be nice to have him with us every week. His presence was felt by everybody.’
Russell’s presence was a regular occurrence at the time because the players’ uniforms were emblazoned with adverts for his forthcoming movie Cinderella Man. Explaining why he decided to have a sponsorship deal with them, he said, ‘The South Sydney Rabbitohs… are currently the second-worst team, but we’ve had three or four years of being the worst team so we’re on the way up.
‘I did a sponsorship deal with them … so for eight weeks this year [2005] the South Sydney team get to run out on the field with Cinderella Man on their shirt. Hopefully they’ll start doing a bit better.’
When results started picking up soon afterwards, Russell said, ‘It was really nice to come down, see a good, solid win. It’s the last time I get to see a game this year in Australia and it means that in the five weeks so far that they’ve had Cinderella Man on their jerseys, they’ve won four out of five.’
His reign as co-owner started off in style when the Rabbitohs beat their rivals the Roosters 18-6, much to the obvious delight of Russell, who rushed to the changing rooms to congratulate his jubilant players.
Russell had made his mark straight away, getting rid of female cheerleaders in favour of a drumming band. ‘We feel they made a lot of people uncomfortable. We examined game day and wanted to contemporise and make the focus football. It makes women uncomfortable and it makes blokes who take their sons to the football also uncomfortable.’
It was a move that pleased his wife too. ‘She likes the fact that game day entertainment will be multi-sex. She likes that aspect. We’ve talked to a lot of people and everyone sees it as being progressive. The whole idea of percussion will be exciting for the crowd.’
Russell is so keen to see his team do well, he makes sure he can still watch his them even when he’s in another country filming. Talking to The Sunday Telegraph in 2008, he said, ‘I get to see every game these days by using a product called Slingbox, which is available here in America. The picture quality isn’t spectacular but no doubt that will improve over time. Like everybody else, I’ve got to fit it around work time, but with the Slingbox if we can get an internet signal we are on.
‘Recently on a night shoot for the film State of Play, I got to watch most of a game because the local real estate agent in a suburb of Washington DC let me sit in his office in the early hours and plug in a computer. His was the only business on the street that had a strong enough internet signal. I didn’t see all of the game because I was shooting, but luckily by game time the dialogue scenes were finished and the rest of the night was shots of me walking down the street, so I could watch between takes.’
His enthusiasm for his team rubbed off on his co-stars. McAdams explained, ‘He was on set that day saying to all of us: “You have to come and watch the game. We’re going to have meat pies.” Russell is obviously a big supporter of his team and rugby league in general. He gave us all shirts, hats and scarves. I even got a [Rabbitohs] Christmas ornament. I wasn’t familiar with rugby league beforehand and I don’t profess to be an expert now. But everything I do know about rugby league, I know from Russell Crowe.’
But being owned by major movie star doesn’t guarantee anything. In the summer of 2008 Russell’s team experienced a slump in performances as well as a number of off-field incidents, including players breaking the team’s drinking ban rule. Russell also had to put up with reports that his ownership style was too flashy, with the new Armani-designed uniforms in particular coming in for criticism.
In his defence, Russell said, ‘We tried a lot of new things last year. In some areas we got lucky and new structures have held well; in others we have had less success and we have sought to deconstruct and start again. Our ultimate aim, and it is a goal we share with our members, is to make Souths cost effective across the board. We want our administration to be lean and mean and efficient in how it brings in the money required to run the team, and we want to provide our players game-leading facilities, medical care and motivation.
‘Last year probably seemed too flashy for some, but a lot of the things reported that we “splashed out” on, we didn’t pay for. Armani suits is one prominent one. Mr Armani has been a friend for many years. He graciously designed and constructed that uniform for us out of his own generosity and what’s more, he kitted out our new players this year as well. Like every Souths supporter, he too is waiting on some good news.’
Russell was also criticised for being too soft on the team. His hard-man image took a dent after he was spotted hugging his players and telling them that he loved them during a TV documentary on Russell’s team.
John Sattler, a Souths player of the 1960s, said, ‘It’s a lot of bullshit. Imagine me walking up to [teammate] John O’Neill and saying I loved him and giving him a hug. He’d run. We had coaches like Clive Churchill and Bernie Purcell. They never said they loved us even when we won four premierships.’
A year later Russell had to make a public apology after a fight between one his players, David Fa’alogo, and the coach Jason Taylor.
Russell’s relationship with his business partner Holmes eventually reached breaking point in 2008, with Holmes leaving the team. When reports claimed that he had been dumped after a fiery board meeting, where he was said to have warned investors that the club might not survive following a AUS$4 million loss and the team coming last in the league, Russell was forced to release a statement.
‘It is the sensible thing to do,’ he said. ‘The reports of our demise have been greatly exaggerated. Today the board applauded Peter’s achievements in lifting the club and collectively we thanked him for his gargantuan effort over the past two years.’
An ambitious venture with Australian-born actor Anthony LaPaglia, who is a shareholder in Sydney FC football team, could see Russell’s South Sydney Rabbitohs plying their trade in a joint 25,000-seat stadium. The Without A Trace star said, ‘He [Crowe] wants a stadium, I want a stadium and we think together there is a possibility we might be able to pull it off. I would say if we could get the right people in the room at the same time, it is something that could happen in two to three years.’