“Matthew, make sure your brother is buckled up!” my mother yelled as she used her hips to close the back door to our monstrous beige Kingswood on a hot summer’s day. My brother and I, all of 6 and 3 years of age, were giggling as Mum started the car and the wind from the open window started to cool us down. Our Mum, just 25 years of age and never one to shy away from making us giggle, popped one of Olivia Newton-John’s cassettes in and started singing along. As Olivia’s voice gently surrounded us in the car, Mum, in all her over animated silliness and trying to channel her own version of Olivia, sang along to “Hopelessly Devoted to You.” Glancing in the rearview mirror at her boys, us, it was yet another moment of love shared between us with music, this time the music of one of Australia’s finest.
It’s hard to fathom that Newton-John, who passed away this past Monday after a thirty-year on/off battle with breast cancer, will not be in our physical realm anymore. As shown by the incredible outpouring of love and memories from the world over, Newton-John was not only one of the world’s greatest stars, but from all accounts, one of its kindest and most unaffected. A quintessentially Australian way of being if you ask me.
Newton-John’s commitment to authenticity was not just a work ethic that many attempt to apply or even “embody,” it really was just who she was. As clichéd as this is, “Beautiful on the inside and out,” has never seemed more apt than right now.
In a career that spanned over five decades, Newton-John conquered both the silver and small screens, as well as numerous genres in music. Her accolades and awards were as varied as GRAMMY wins and nominations to world records, a star on the Hollywood Walk of fame and even being made a Dame in 2020 by way of an Order of the British Empire.
But beyond the fame and honors bestowed upon her, as numerous and endless as they are, it was her dedication to the Cancer Wellness & Research Centre in Melbourne, Australia that also shares her name that became one of her greatest driving forces in life. Her devotion to this noble cause would secure her legacy in ensuring that much needed help and support for cancer patients would continue well after her time on this earth was complete. Mission accomplished.
That was thing about ONJ—even when it was about her, she still somehow made all those around her feel like it was about them. I was fortunate enough to have met her twice throughout my career, both times she was like everyone has already said, “Kind, attentive and warm.”
But it was the last time that I saw her in concert at the Sydney Opera House back in 2012 that really stopped me in my tracks. Sitting above the stage in one of the balconies, just off to the left, I was leaning on the rails totally mesmerized by her performance. My mother, sitting next to me, clapping and singing away, kept nudging me to get more into it. I just couldn’t. I was thinking about how incredible it was to be sitting just meters away from someone that had played such an integral part in my life at large, none more so than musically. Then within a second, ONJ turned to face my side of the stage and exclaimed with that megawatt smile and pointing directly at me “Hey you! I want to see you clapping too! It’s just me!” She launched back into the remaining verse and my life felt that little bit more complete.
Whilst the “Sandy from Grease” memes bombard the internet, occasionally interspersed with “Kira from Xanadu” memes also taking their rightful place in the mourning process, Newton-John’s varied music styles were faultless and need to be remembered. How could anyone forget her stunning debut single “If Not For You” written by Bob Dylan, with the album of the same name cementing her as pop’s newest star back in 1971. She also represented the UK in the Eurovision Song Contest in 1974 with “Long Live Love” and made an incredibly successful move into country music (albeit some short-lived resistance) with the aforementioned album as well as some of her earlier albums like If You Love Me, Let Me Know (1974), Have You Never Been Mellow (1975) and Clearly Love (1975) to name but a few.
It would be a crime to not acknowledge how the pop stratosphere got a major shakeup when ONJ changed gears yet again and gave us the mega successful and iconic movie Grease in 1978, followed by the cult classic Xanadu in 1980. Both films varied in commercial and critical success, yet both have remained cult classics and again, both spawned massive hits for the star.
A sexier Newton-John again stormed the charts just a year later in 1981 with Physical and continued her path of reinvention and how an artist wasn’t required to stay in one lane, so to speak. That was ONJ’s power, if you like—the ability to just do what needed to be done, sans fanfare or hype, just pure musical artistry, a splash of experimentation and of course that ever-important authenticity. All qualities that saw her not only maintain a career in the entertainment industry at large, but thrive in it right up until her passing.
When I woke on Tuesday morning, as with most days, I reached for my phone to shut the alarm off. This time, as I rubbed my eyes, attempting to adjust them to the light of my phone, I was hit with message after message and endless notifications on Newton-John’s passing. My heart sank. I didn’t want to open my phone or my eyes again. It was this feeling of familiarity that ONJ imparted with everyone she met that made you feel like you knew her, even when you really didn’t. A kindness that permeated from that beautiful smile, a warmth as she greeted you with her hands and her eyes fixed on yours as she spoke to you. She made you feel seen and heard. I am sure all those that met her would echo those very sentiments and then some. As I wrote in a post on my social media on Tuesday morning, “This one hits hard.”
British by birth, Australian in heart and home, and an icon for eternity to all those that loved her, Dame Olivia Newton-John.
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