LET'S GO DEEPER DOWN...
If there's a perceptible difference between the solo work of Neil Finn and the post-Hester Crowded House, it's probably down to textures, harmonies and bass lines. Nick Seymour is an indelible presence in Crowded House songs of all eras, and if anything - as likely as not due to the painful absence of Hester - an even more important element of the band's sound now than he was in their first incarnation. As much as fans might lament the absence (and rightly so) of Paul Hester and Mark Hart (I certainly do), it need to be acknowledged that in the 35+ years of the band, Hester and Finn have been the only two constants. Following Hester's departure came the late Peter Jones and Matt Sherrod, and the multi-instrumentalist role has been variously filled by Tim Finn and the aforementioned Hart.
To my mind, the wonderful 2021 album, Dreamers Are Waiting, marks the beginning of the band's third phase, with the addition of long-time associate, Mitchell Froom and two of Neil's children, Liam and Elroy, primarily on guitar and drums respectively. It's worth noting that like their uber-talented father, the younger Finns are multi-instrumentalists, which gives the band both on stage and in the studio considerable versality. It also seems to have translated into a rather seamless fluidity that permeates the sound of the whole album.
The titular phrase, dreamers are waiting, is distinctly Finn-ish. That almost metaphysical fusion of tense, that sense of hope and acceptance. There's always been something both wistful and optimistic about Finn's lyrical perspectives, even when at his most acerbic or sentimental. His lyrics are unusual creatures indeed, in that they sound a good deal more accessible (meaning wise) than close scrutiny ultimately reveals. They are complex to the point of abstract; bursts of inspired insight, such as the world being a tangled-up necklace of pearls, to the tumbling, zen-chaos contradiction of four seasons in one day.
This album isn't always as richly textured lyrically as it is musically, but this isn't necessarily a bad thing. Whatever You Want message is comparatively straightforward, but the music is jauntily inspired with a stumbling bass line, funky percussion, multi-faceted keyboard textures and some seriously fuzzed-up guitar. And notably, the now-familiar sound of Finn's wife, Sharon, on backing vocals. Her presence is a welcome one; her softly timbred voice blends in seamlessly with those of her husband and their sons. Funny that. The harmonies are a remarkable feature of the song, in that they could easily have come from a different song entirely; they are lush, finely crafted and almost medieval. The more closely the music is examined, the more remarkable it becomes.
Show Me the Way is a genuinely stunning song. It sounds like some of David Gilmour's solo work and that Beatle-esque wonder that very few artists have ever authentically been able to weave into something more substantive than mere pastiche. Those harmonised notes that descend in the chorus are spine-tingling. The song's round-like qualities give it a swaying rhythm, but the lyrics are a dark fusion of the personalised and the symbolic. The imagery of a brother's shame, of red and blue, and most startlingly, a burning cross, suggests a narrative, but it's loosely knotted or partially collapsed. To my ears, it seems to be a lament for hyper-polarised politics and values in the United States; the forlorn voice of a family member who yearns to connect with another who's lost down some kind of rabbit hole. It's a despairing sigh of a song, but one that's unable to let go of hope. It's a deeply thoughtful piece of societal commentary personalised down to the level of the most intimate poetry. That's one of the many ways to characterise Finn's gift; his seemingly effortless way of combining disparate elements into harmoniously complex wholes.
The younger Finns have contributed songs as well. Whilst this might surprise some, it's worth remembering that Paul Hester contributed a song apiece to Woodface and Together Alone. Like Hester's contributions, they are fine pieces that sit comfortably within Crowded House's private universe. And it's always welcome when Tim Finn pops up, as he does on the beguiling song, 'Too Good for this World'. A minor-mood minor shanty, its lyric is an epic tale that's been miniaturised. I'm still trying to get my head around it, too be honest. It's that fusing of the literal and the symbolic lyrics, coupled with ingenious sonic architecture that give Finn's songs such compelling liminal spaces. They are aural cathedrals, and whilst are some are massive epic and others tiny, the rewards are equally delightful.
It's because of songwriters like Neil Finn that I am slightly less fearful of the cane-toad encroachment of AI into the natural environment of human creativity. There's never going to be a program or algorithm that'll be able to replicate this kind of artistry.
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