Tim and Neil Finn perform with Split Enz at Spark Arena. Photo / Alyse Wright
As the Finn boys and their band so excellently proved, nostalgia and new wave aren’t just for nana and grandad, Mitchell Hageman writes.
In the early 2000s, every Friday afternoon at the Titirangi Primary School Hall, I’d file in orderly fashion towards the stage with my class.
We’d sit on the hard wooden floor, glad to be missing class, and wait on tenterhooks to find out what song we’d be singing that day. At least once a month, it was Six Months In A Leaky Boat.
Now here I am, about 20 years later, miserably failing to nail that shrill whistle chorus with thousands of others at a sold-out Spark Arena who will no doubt have a Split Enz memory of their own.
But this wasn’t just any old trip down memory lane from a band that last performed in 2008.
This was an art rock reckoning for the ages, one so unpredictable, kooky, and visually stunning that even my teenage brother described it as “electric”.
Hit after nostalgic hit, the Finn brothers’ reformed band weaved a historic tapestry of chaos and cool into a Vegas-style romp, all without a hint of American corniness or pomp.
It was cheeky, it was raw, it was loud, and it made me damn proud to be Kiwi.
A massive screen that rivalled Roger Waters’ 2018 wall greeted us, projecting a red curtain adorned with archival footage. If they hear this, the production designers need a raise, because that screen was a marvel to behold, popping with Split Enz aesthetic throughout the night in the most seamless way possible.
Other reviewers described the band’s entrance as emerging from the world’s largest golden beanbag, and I’d say that’s pretty accurate.
Weird, fun, obscure, it set the tone for what was to come, that’s for sure.
Shark Attack was a bombastic opener, the patterned suit songmen spitting out the lyrics like musical venom with smiles on their faces.
A big question going into this reunion was if the reformed band still had its spark.
The core members proved they’re still sharp as ever on the tools, and newbies Matt Eccles and James Milne fit in seamlessly.
Tim Finn, who you wouldn’t dream of thinking was in his 70s, showed he can still writhe around the stage like that gleeful madman generations saw on TV.
Poor Boy, History Never Repeats and Dirty Creature were big early sing-alongs, with Neil Finn telling a story of hitchhiking to the fabled “Buck-a-Head” concerts in the ’70s in-between.
“Perhaps your mum or grandma was there. Maybe you were conceived there,” he joked.
At times, it was almost like we’d stumbled into a recording session, with the banter between the Finns, Eddie Rayner and Noel Crombie chaotic, unscripted, and at times scathingly funny.
The middle section of the set chronicled both deep cuts and album favourites. There was a lag in pace during the slower songs, but for a very good reason - it gave Tim the chance to show his excellent skills on the piano.
From My Mistake onwards, it was all systems go. Hands were out of pockets, the seated were standing, and for about 20 minutes, the art pop preachers made us (I) See Red and scream I Got You at the top of our lungs to whoever was around us. Apparently, according to Neil, we were in good voice.
The end of the three-song encore saw one of the best and most bizarre moments of the night. Crombie, the madman, played Strait Old Line percussion using a set of tablespoons with such veracity that it made me want to buy a pair and give it a go.
My colleagues jokingly like to call me “the boomer reporter” because of my penchant for reviewing shows that would likely draw an older demographic.
Tonight made me even more proud to wear that mantle, because Split Enz proved nostalgia doesn’t have an age, and neither does musical excellence.
If the Las Vegas Sphere is looking for its next legacy blockbuster after The Eagles finish their residency, they’d better call the Finn brothers quick smart.
Mitchell Hageman joined the Herald’s entertainment and lifestyle team in 2024. He previously worked as a multimedia journalist for Hawke’s Bay Today.