A former stage manager has shared a chaotic but unforgettable moment from a 1971 Neil Diamond concert — a night when Diamond, acting on instinct rather than plan, decided to change the entire setlist just minutes before showtime. The sudden shift sent the backstage crew into a frenzy, scrambling to print new lyric sheets and reorganize cues as the audience unknowingly waited for the doors to open.
According to the stage manager, the moment began quietly. Diamond was pacing backstage, reviewing the show notes while musicians warmed up. Nothing seemed unusual until he stopped suddenly, stared at the setlist taped to a wall, and said, “This feels wrong today.” Before anyone could respond, he pulled the paper off the wall and started rewriting the order from scratch.
At first, the crew assumed he meant one or two substitutions — a common last-minute adjustment. But as Diamond continued writing, crossing out, and rearranging, it became clear he was restructuring the entire evening. Songs that traditionally opened the show were dropped to the middle. Deep cuts long absent from live performances were suddenly dusted off. A song intended for the encore was moved up to the second slot.
“He wasn’t indecisive,” the stage manager said. “He was certain. He knew exactly what he wanted to do. It just wasn’t what anyone expected.”
The new order created immediate technical chaos. Lighting cues no longer matched. The band hadn’t rehearsed transitions between several of the songs. And most urgently, lyric sheets for two rarely performed tracks were missing entirely. Within moments, the small backstage office turned into a production war room.
A crew member ran to retrieve an old binder of archived material. Another sprinted to the venue’s only working copier — a slow, temperamental machine that jammed twice before producing anything usable. Pages came out crooked, ink-light, and barely legible, but the crew grabbed them anyway, stacking warm sheets into folders as fast as the copier spat them out.
Meanwhile, the band gathered around Diamond, listening as he explained the new emotional arc he wanted for the night. He gestured with his hands, describing mood shifts and storytelling beats as though he were rearranging scenes in a film. Despite the confusion, the musicians trusted him. One guitarist later said, “He spoke with the clarity of someone who already heard the concert in his head.”
The new setlist was taped onto music stands seconds before the house lights dimmed. Some pages were still curling from the copier’s heat. A percussionist had to squint at his lyrics under the stage lights because the ink on his copy was fading. But as the opening chords rang out, the tension dissolved. Diamond stepped onto the stage with calm assurance, launching into an entirely different show than the one the team had rehearsed hours earlier.
According to multiple crew members, the concert turned out to be one of the most powerful performances of the tour — raw, unscripted, and emotionally charged. The unexpected setlist created a spontaneity that radiated from the stage, energizing both band and audience.
Backstage, the exhausted crew traded looks of disbelief as the final encore echoed through the venue. They had survived the scramble — barely.
“It was nerve-wracking,” the stage manager admitted. “But when he followed his instinct, it worked. Neil had a sixth sense for when the night needed something different.”
For the people who witnessed it, the 1971 setlist switch remains one of the rarest glimpses into Diamond’s creative intuition — a moment when an entire show changed because he felt something shift inside him minutes before walking onstage.