Review of Crowded House: outrageous spun-sugar pop bliss
Neil Finn’s band spreads harmonic delight with a cameo from Mick Fleetwood and his sons’ amazing solos.
Sometimes pop music just has to make people smile a little. Crowded House does do more than just play a tiny London gig to celebrate the arrival of their eighth album, Gravity Stairs. Comedy is present when Neil Finn teases bassist Nick Seymour, the only other band member who is always there, about his strapped knee. This leads to a recitation of Seymour family history and the audience singing Oliver!’s Where Is Love? to the stage. The band’s flawless harmonies and interlocking guitars are particularly lovely; on the slightly trippy song All That I Can Ever Own, they sound as seamless as spun sugar.
And when Finn goes back into his past during the encores to revisit Split Enz’s “I Got You,” there’s something incredibly hilarious about Mick Fleetwood taking the drum stool. Fleetwood plays it like Keith Moon, omitting the metronomic carelessness of the recorded version and adding fills where neither time nor space dictates they belong. It’s exuberant, absurd, and just plain amazing. Of course, it culminates with Fleetwood leading the band in a massive rock climax while writhing about the kit.
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The band’s genius and Finn’s flawless songwriting, however, are what drive the two hours. Together with the two living founders, Finn’s sons Liam and Elroy provide drums and guitar, Paul Taylor adds percussion, and the talented Mitchell Froom, who produced their first three albums, delicately adds keyboard touches to everything. It has the same effect as when The Wizard of Oz transitions from black and white to Technicolour when they come together on songs as flawless as Distant Sun or Fall at Your Feet.
Finn Sr. appears content and at ease, and it is enjoyable to watch him and his boys perform music together with such obvious joy. Liam’s solos are always surpassed by his dad. Liam makes fun of him at one point for not being cool, but any 66-year-old who can play one of the best albums of modern pop music while rocking a Les Paul and wearing his sports jacket for two hours without seeming to sweat is as cool as they come.
