Live Review: Neil Finn

Neil Finn is now the ultra independent artist – webcasting from his Auckland home studios, tweeting all the swears about current pop stuff (he seems for Lorde, against Kanye and Miley) and generally being a Kiwi living legend. And then you see him literally run on stage during encores, bounce during his new stuff and laugh about not remembering how stuff he wrote actually goes. Yeah, Neil Finn is still the fucking business.

The packed Tuesday night concert hall was still no guarantee that the new stuff was going to go down well, though, and taking this in his stride Finn brought a six-piece band of family (including his wife Sharon), friends and newcomers along with him, making sure offerings from recent album Dizzy Heights were tight as. Particular highlights were Flying In The Face Of Love, Better Than TV and Strangest Friends, although props also to Recluse, something of a confessional to support Finn's social media habits it seems. The stand-out was White Lies And Alibis, which soared more than its recording (or perhaps familiarity brought it to life), while tunes from the not so distant past like Pajama Club single From A Friend To A Friend also sat well. 

As for greatest hits and memories, Finn mixed radio fodder Distant Sun, Better Be Home Soon, I Got You, with fab B-sides like Lester, I Feel Possessed and Love This Life. Mid-set the still gloriously haunting Only Talking Sense was made just slightly less creepy as Finn told the story of the 'Woolshed' in the song's first line, something of a Waikato community hall and site of many a Finn clan gathering.

There was the usual bit of strange audience enthusiasm (although there were paper planes replaced with Freddo Frogs hurled onto stage for no good reason), but Finn seemed to encourage it, inviting those up the back to come down the front to fill “vacant Sydney Symphony box sets” down the front. On stage he looks unchanged (a clean suit, jacket removed only for encore when sleeves were finally rolled up and he really got to some solo work), however, there was the odd little crackle in his voice, particularly in the usually boyishly soaring Message To My Girl. Expecting him to stay superglued to the early '80s and '90s would do him and his work a disservice, though, and now the crackle adds a different type of character.