MUSIC INTERVIEW: LIAM FINN

Singer-Songwriter from the Other Down Under Travels, Plays, Adjusts, Matures

By: Team Buzzine

October 14, 2011

New Zealand is a famously beautiful place... and a famously small place. So it should come as no surprise that musicians who grow up there (see Buzzine’s interviews with The Naked & Famous, Brooke Fraser, and more) end up both wanting to move away from their Kiwi beginnings yet simultaneously pining for home. Now imagine growing up in the spotlight as the son of one of New Zealand’s biggest stars (Neil Finn of Split Enz and Crowded House), and you can certainly understand why Liam Finn has spent much of the past few years as a musical nomad.

Over the past decade or so, Liam has become a much-beloved singer-songwriter in his own right while living in Australia, England, and America, but returned home to his father’s recording studio in Auckland to record his latest album, FOMO. Back on his travels again to promote the album, Liam sat down in Buzzine’s backyard pub with Stefan Goldby to reflect on his family, his life, his music, his maturation, and his sporadic on-stage calls for tasty beverages…

Stefan Goldby: So far, you’ve played as a member of a band, completely by yourself as a solo artist, in a duo with E-J (Eliza-Jane Barnes), and now with a your own backing band. Is it the variety that you crave?

Liam Finn: I had a band, Betchadupa, for about eight years that was with my three best buddies growing up in high school and that was amazing, and when I was doing that, it was kind of like a first love. You sort of think, “We’ll be together forever, and nothing can defeat us...” And, sure enough, time defeated us and we all grew apart and wanted to do different things.

And then I discovered the solo, one-man-band thing, which was completely different and mind-blowing, and I guess that’s what was exciting about it and what really stimulated me. And then E-J, my good friend, infiltrated that by singing from the side of the stage one night… I didn’t know where the voice was coming from and then I saw her slouched over a couch with a whiskey, just singing along. So things just evolved, basically, to the point now where what made the two-piece thing with E-J really exciting was the spontaneity and the fact that every night was completely different and unrehearsed really, and really left up to the moment, and no setlist written.

But that slowly got more and more comfortable and more and more in control, so I think I had to shake it up again and get some untamable musicians and make it dangerous all over again. So now I’ve got two bands in one really, because me and E-J were a full functioning band with a whole backline, and now we’ve got another drumkit and another bass rig, and just created a whole lot more problems for my tour manager. [Laughs]

SG: Was figuring all that out part of the reason for such a long gap between the release of your debut solo album I’ll Be Lightning (2007) and your new record FOMO?

LF: When I’ll Be Lightning came out, it was such a staggered release around the world that it took about three and a half years of my life touring it really, which was fantastic because it meant a lot to me – that record – and it felt like quite a statement and really close to me, so I was happy to keep taking the opportunities while they were there, and before I knew it, it was about three and a half years.

But in that time, E-J and I made an EP, and we made a record with some other friends from New Zealand under the name BARB. So we did other projects, but I think it took me that long to figure out what I wanted to do as a follow-up record, because that second record, especially for a solo artist, they seem like quite a statement in theselves, and then you’ve got that difficult second-record syndrome, which I tried not to plan to, but I realize there’s a cliché for a reason… So I realize I think it is quite a daunting thought: “How do you follow up something that was so important to you and so close to you,” and freaking out about it and delving into the depths of madness is part of the process of making that difficult second record.

SG: The recording is something of a dichotomy in that you challenged yourself by bringing in Burke Reid as co-producer to shake things up, but at the same time, you went right back to as close as a home as a studio could be at your father’s Roundhouse Studios in Auckland. Was that a deliberate: “There’s a challenge, but at least the surroundings are familiar”?

LF: Yeah, I think after being a nomad for about four years, I was craving being back in New Zealand. And before that, I’d been living in England, and before that living in Australia, so I really hadn’t felt as connected to my home country for such a long time that that was what I would go to sleep thinking about – the beach in New Zealand and the place I grew up. So I think it was the natural place to go back to and recharge the batteries and try to figure out what I was going to create.

But you need to mix things up every time you make a new record because that’s the only way to make it inspiring for yourself again, and I think having a producer but also getting to work in my father’s studio, which, as much as it is really comfortable and does feel like I was living in there basically… I wasn’t leaving the complex or the compound, or whatever you want to call it… But I think it was an interesting thing that happened there because Burke was from Canada, but sort of an honorary Australian: He came over and he was the one that was the wild card, and he made things really different, and as soon as I found him, that’s when everything kicked into place. And the comfort zone of New Zealand didn’t seem like an easy place to just curl up and sleep; it all of a sudden became vital again to make music and exciting, so it was good to have both sides of it.

SG: What do you think is the most important difference in the record because of having both those sides?

LF: I think having someone else’s ears is a really important thing for me… at this point anyway… because I made my last record completely on my own, and engineered it and mixed it and ultimately was a bit of a control freak, but that was a response to not being able to do it the way I wanted to do it in previous times, so now, after having that experience, I really wanted to have that input from someone and to have them say, “No, I’m not really into this song,” even if it’s kind of confronting, because your songs are like your children. It’s like someone going, “Well, your child is not that good-looking, but this one’s quite cute, so let’s focus on this one.”

So it was quite a confronting experience at times, but ultimately it was what I needed. I needed someone to challenge me, and I think that having someone else steer the ship when you hit a brick wall and you don’t have those moments of complete disarray, because when your energy levels go down, there’s someone else to pick you back up and do something to make you hear it in a new way, and that’s inspiring and gets you going again. So yeah, I think it was a quicker process than if I’d have done it on my own, but ultimately, also, it just sounds completely different because the last record was all analog, and this record is all done on ProTools, so I just fought against everything I’d learned, basically, which makes me realize I’m just a perverse bastard. [Laughs]

SG: Is there a single moment from the recording of this record that stands out most in your mind?

LF: The beginning and the end of the record are, for me, the memorable moments because they’re, obviously, complete opposite ends of the process, and at the beginning, I was quite…not nervous, but quite disillusioned about what it was I was trying to make, and whether working with Burke was the right idea, whether staying in New Zealand was the right idea, retreating from the world that I felt such a part of for such a long time – and I think that was what ultimately gave me this feeling of FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out), which ended up being, I guess, the word that taunted me through the whole process.

So the beginning and the first track on the record, “Neurotic World,” was a song that I had pretty much done most of before we started the record, so that was the first little thing I had to focus on and the thing that had the atmosphere I wanted to create. And then the last track on the record was the last song that we finished – I guess it became obvious why I put them at the beginning and the end – and that one is called “Jump Your Bones”, and that ended up being the most joyous and one of those fateful songs that really came together at the last minute.

I didn’t even know if it was going to make the record, but then that last day in the studio, something happened and all of a sudden we had the most fun and playful track that we’d done in two months of working together, and I think that felt like a nice way just to finish it off on a really joyous note, and I think that’s what comes through on the record, is that it starts a bit freaked out and a bit neurotic, and ends with this quite wild and uninhibited feeling. So it seems quite telling.

SG: You mentioned neurosis. Do you find that writing a song about a less-than-wonderful topic but making it a cheerful fun song is a good way of dealing with things: Is songwriting the key to life and other people are just basically wasting money on therapy? [Smiles]

LF: There is a certain amount of catharsis to songwriting, and I do think that sometimes being unhappy or discontent or heartbroken, or any of that stuff – that is a huge inspiration for music. In some ways, it can make it feel easier because you are expressing yourself, and sometimes expressing the happier things in life are harder because you feel a bit more self-conscious about what you’re saying or what someone else might judge you for saying. But ultimately, the last record was quite a heartbroken, melancholic record, and I was in a very different place making this one.

As much as I was freaked out and worried about it, I really had nothing in my life to really drag me down. I was being a bit of a wuss really, and feeling sorry for myself living at the beach going, “Why can’t I write this?” But I realized that was all part of the process. So yeah, there are definitely a lot more things to touch on – new love and happiness on this record, and that was a certain way of acknowledging it and realizing that actually it’s great to be home and in a really good spot. So I think sometimes it’s therapeutic in hindsight, because I look back and go, “Okay, I was obviously thinking that at that point…” but in the moment, you don’t really know what the hell you’re talking about.

SG: Outside of that moment, and with some time for reflection, what about this record are you happiest with?

LF: I think it’s a really good step forward for me as an artist, because I don’t want to be a singer/songwriter that… Even the term “singer/songwriter” makes my skin crawl sometimes… But I don’t want to be an easy-to-define singer/songwriter because that’s not really what I grew up doing, and the music that I listen to is not easy to define, and the people that have inspired me as solo artists are the ones that have been uncompromising and just followed their gut, and kept changing things to challenge themselves and challenge the listener, and I think that’s what makes really interesting personalities.

People like Neil Young and David Bowie and Beck are always making sure that it’s what they want to do and keep people guessing, and I think that if you start as you intend to go on, people won’t be like, “Oh, he only made this bunch of records and now he’s doing hip hop. What a freak.” Not that… maybe the next record will be hip hop. But I think it was just important to me to make it different enough that I felt like I was going to be able to keep following my heart and my gut, and that’s the only thing I really believe in, is that little gut feeling you get when you hear something.

It’s like, “Oh, that’s the noise,” and sometimes it’s as simple as a little “blip”… or a “do-de-da” and it’s like: “Aah, that’s my noise! There we go, that’s the record.” And I didn’t want to try to recreate anything I’d done on the last record. So I think this was just an important step away from that, and now I feel like the world is my oyster and now working with musicians and having a band has opened a door to a whole lot of new stuff and a whole array of sounds that I haven’t touched on, so that’s the exciting part.

SG: You started from a musical control-freak position but you’ve relaxed a little bit – that’s healthy. Well done. But when it comes to a music video, there’s a need to relax your control even further, right? Take your new “Jump Your Bones” video, for example. You must have been okay with looking slightly strange at times onscreen to begin with, but how involved were you in creating the concept and choosing the director?

LF: Music videos have always been a mystery to me because I’ve been involved with some that have just gone brilliantly and come out looking fantastic, and then some that you have this great brief and you have a good time making it, but then it comes out more of someone else’s vision than it was yours, so that’s a hard collaboration – making a video – and I do like to be as involved as possible, because ultimately this thing is going to be representing you and how you sing and how you’re presented to everyone else.

So I think it’s important to me to have some involvement in it, but I would love to meet someone who just goes away and makes some beautiful piece of art that just compliments the music. But with my new video for “Jump Your Bones,” it was the first time that I worked with someone that was really completely on the same wavelength, and when this guy… Derek Henderson… who is a photographer in New Zealand and does really beautiful art stuff and does fashion stuff as well… I think this might be his first music video, but I’m a fan of his photography and… I’m just a big fan of photography myself, so I liked the idea of a photographer having a vision for it and it coming from, I guess, a more documentary vision of what I do live.

And that’s something that I don’t think has ever really been captured in a visual element for anything I’ve done. I think the live show is where I’m most comfortable and most excited, and that’s the thing that I love doing, and it makes me feel lucky to be doing this job. So someone coming to me and saying, “I just want to film you drumming and put it in extreme slow-mo so all those strained, orgasmic faces you’re pulling are captured in really intense and possibly unflattering, but in some ways a very honest way.”

So as soon as he told me about it and as I know what his stuff looks like, I pictured it. And it’s the first video I’ve ever made where I saw the final thing and I was like, “Well that’s exactly how I pictured it when he first talked to me about it.” And we worked together on the whole concept of what shots we were gonna do and how we were going to make it fit around the song, and to be honest, like I said, that song is quite joyous. I feel like drumming, for me, is my most joyous thing to do, and he’s really captured that. And cymbals look undeniably cool when they’re in slow-mo because they just flop around like crazy. So it’s one of my favorite videos I’ve made.

SG: So if drumming is one of your favorite things with the benefit of a band behind you, is it more enjoyable to do now in a band setting? When it was just you, or just you and E-J, there were things that all have to happen to play a song properly and the two of you had to do them all, whereas now there’s a little bit more freedom, I assume: What is the biggest difference for you as a musician on this tour because of those extra people on stage with you?

LF: It is nice not to have to think as much as I did doing the one-man-band thing or the two-piece thing, because that was what was so exciting for such a long time, and really stimulating – to be on top of everything. But it’s really nice to relax into it now and really focus on singing the songs. And I think that’s what has always been really important to me – to really think about what you’re singing when you sing it, because that’s ultimately - for me anyway - what separates the good music from the bad music. It’s irrelevant of genre. It’s just whether you believe the person that is singing.

The songs can be as complex or as simple as possible, but if you believe that person delivering it to you, that’s how we relate, and that’s a universal language, so it’s nice to just be able to play my guitar and sing the song and look the audience in the eye. But then, ultimately, if I want to throw the guitar off and get on the drums and go mental for two minutes, I can. And the band, especially now after six or seven months of touring recently, everyone has just got their thing down really comfortable, and I really can throw anything I want at them, and that’s what makes the special shows – when we jump off the track and go somewhere completely different. And I think that’s why people respond as well – because you feel like anything can happen, and the danger of it is what’s enthralling, I think… for us on stage and for those in the audience.

SG: I hope this question doesn’t send you into some kind of spiral, Mr. Control Freak, but as somebody who had gotten used to doing every element of the music on stage, what are the pieces that need to come together for you to have the perfect night playing a show?

LF: It’s hard to know what makes a perfect show, but it is a weird combination of the right audience that is with you from that first note. You can tell with a crowd, and I like to start the show just on my own like I used to, but with an improvised thing, and that can really set up or destroy a show from the get-go; not that it actually has ever destroyed it, but leaving something up to that moment’s inspiration and going out and making up a riff on the spot, and then looping it in, and they’re very different every night.

And then getting in on the drums…because if it goes well, it just sets everyone into the same buzz and can be harmonious. But if it goes skee-whiff, sometimes that’s the energy that you’ve got to come back from. And actually creating a bit of tension that you’ve got to come back from is a good thing as well, but it does make for a different show.

And then there’s the balance of whiskey and whether it was a single malt or not. So many factors.

But I think I really like leaving that first song up to complete chance. And you don’t want to be too comfortable. You don’t want the show to be the same every night. And then the band comes out and interrupts me, basically, so that’s a nice little statement in itself, with the band coming out, “Stop it! We’re here now. Relax.”

SG: No matter how good the night on stage is, it’s an hour or so of a 24-hour touring experience. You have your brother out on the road now with you as part of the band. Is road stories math as simple as: More people, more stories?

LF: Yes and no. It’s hard because there’s always the dreaded question: “Tell us some road stories,” because there’s always the old “what goes on in the space shuttle stays in the space shuttle” kind of mentality. But ultimately, with more people on the road, it’s a pretty crazy thing to manage, and I don’t envy my tour manager because it’s all kinds of more people to go missing…

But I’ve been pretty lucky to have picked people in my band, like my brother Elroy on drums, and then a really good old friend, Joel on bass, and he’s been a big part of my music for years. And to be honest, both complete loose cannons, but you really wouldn’t want it any other way because that’s what makes it interesting. But so far, no one has gone missing; there’s been a few strange moments, but ultimately we’re a very functioning family at the moment and everyone is on their edge of health and sanity, but it’s somehow working. And I think having Marques Toliver, who is opening for us on the tour, as part of our tour group has been really nice as a new personality to add into the mix, and he’s just amazing and constantly singing.

Marques will narrate the day in R&B-style vocals, which is very entertaining. And if you’re feeling a bit grumpy and worn out, it will take 30 seconds of Marques singing about how you’re looking grumpy and worn out to crack you up. So that’s really nice. I think it’s those relationships you form on the road that make it really special and make that hour-and-a-half count. There’s so much waiting around, and there’s loading, there’s the set-up – there’s all these hours that actually disappear into nothingness, but that hour-and-a-half is obviously the focus of the day, so having some interesting personalities to lead you up to that hour-and-a-half make the whole thing magical.

SG: Do you prefer the control of the studio or the unpredictability of the live show?

LF: I think my ultimate philosophy is to exhaust all aspects and then change. I guess right now I’d say I do love touring, and you can wear yourself out, and I think I may have done that in the past and learned to stop while you’re still enjoying it. Actually, I’ve just completely contradicted myself: Stop while you’re still enjoying it.

I love the unpredictability of touring and how different every day is and how stimulating it is to meet people and stuff, but I think when you get to the point where you can’t do it anymore and you can’t even hold a conversation any more so you’ve got to retreat, that’s when you start writing and processing everything and get back in the studio.

And that’s when you can also indulge the other aspects that are making music – that’s experimenting and finding your sounds, and finding new ways of doing things that you’ve never done before, whereas on tour, I feel like you are implementing what you learned making the record. So at this point, I’m really enjoying touring, and I’ve only got a couple more weeks and then we’re done for the year and I’m going to be writing again. But still, these last two weeks…I’ve just got to make the most of it because it’s going to be a long, cold winter in New York, where we’re based now, and we’re gonna hunker down. So yeah, I guess, like I said, exhaust that until you crave doing the other, and that’s my ultimate plan really.

SG: Even beyond your eight years in Betchadupa and now five as a solo artist, you have a little bit more experience in the musical world than most people: What do you think is the biggest benefit to you as an artist from growing up in such a musical family?

LF: I guess, aside from the obvious things, I’ve been really lucky to grow up the way I did because there were instruments around, and music was encouraged and creativity was encouraged, so that’s one factor that was good. But I think it’s just really nice now, the way I see it, is I just get to share this really wonderful thing with my family, and both my parents make music, my uncle makes music, my brother makes music, and it’s just really awesome to bounce off each other really.

To be honest, in the last few years, I’ve witnessed this cool kind of chemical reaction of… I’ll go and make something, and Dad will listen to it and go, “Oh wow, he’s done it this way…” And you can see things that we do rub off on each other, and that’s really exciting because, obviously, what he’s done and growing up listening to his music has been a huge influence on me and the way I hear things, the way I write things and melodies and harmonies. But it’s exciting to see now how we can, little bits here and there, evolve together.

I think you never stop as a songwriter – well, I hope you don’t – evolving and changing things up. I’d like to think that it’s worked on both sides, and definitely now Dad and Mom have got kind of an indie project called Pajama Club, and they’re doing things differently, and there are like 100 hits on YouTube accounts all of a sudden, and it’s really cool to see them going through that and sharing my experience in the indie world. [Laughs] So it’s nice, and as a family, we’re so close, and the dinner table conversations aren’t really boring industry ones; they’re completely filthy, crude conversations, and that’s all because of… music. [Laughs]

SG: Finally, It’s not filthy, or crude, but after seeing you play live a few times, we’ve noticed that you have a habit of calling out for booze.

LF: Really? That’s terrible.

SG: I don’t know if it’s a cry for help, or if it’s just a desire to get free alcohol, but as we are sitting in a pub, it strikes me that the way you are doing it is inefficient: Why do it to 100 people at a time when you could be doing it en masse?

LF: I should just ask for booze…

SG: …right now, on camera, and we’ll give you the clip, and you can just use it whenever you need…

LF: Before the show? [Laughs]

SG: Exactly.

LF: “This is an announcement from Liam and the band…”

I don’t know where the asking for booze routine comes from, but I think what happens when you’re on tour is you’re desperately fighting the urge to drink because you’re waiting around, the rider is there staring you in the eye, and you’re like, “No, I’m not gonna drink today. I’m not gonna drink today. I felt terrible this morning. I’m not gonna drink today.” And then just before the show, you’re like, “Well I’ll have one, just to get in the spirit of things,” and then, “I’m not gonna take one on stage because I just drink water and it’s an exhausting show…”

And then you get up on stage and a couple songs in, you want to be on the same buzz as the audience and everyone’s got a drink, so that’s when you quite often realize you don’t have one out there, so ultimately you end up resorting to pleading with the audience to buy you drinks. So I’m not sure how to change that. To be honest, we’ll accept anything – any kind of present, any kind of substance – just pass it to the front or approach us afterwards at the merch desk, and it will be greatly appreciated. It’s a terrible reputation… [Laughs]

SG: I just think it’s just a normal touring musician’s reputation…

LF: Okay, so I shouldn’t feel alone in it. I’m definitely a believer in everything in moderation, including moderation, but I think the wise thing to do would be to figure out what we want exactly, and then write a few songs about it… It’s worked for Cypress Hill. I’ve done a tour once following Cypress Hill around Australia with my old band, and every stage we turned up on to set up where joints everywhere. We were like, “They’re so smart. Write songs about what you want people to bring you to the show, and they’ll just throw it up.” So we should probably write a whiskey song… I wouldn’t like to think that we’re a band of alcoholics, but I think this lifestyle definitely makes you look like one.

SG: Well, it is currently… 11:30 in the morning and you’re nicely functioning.

LF: Totally. And I feel okay. I’m right next to all this and I’m not craving it, so…

SG: We’ll keep bringing you back here as a test every few years, and if suddenly you start flinging yourself at the beer taps, we’ll know.

LF: I think, within the band, we’re all keeping very close eyes on each other, but that doesn’t mean we’d ever say anything… But if anyone got out of hand, we are a family so I’m sure there would be an intervention. We should document it…

Liam Finn’s latest album, ‘FOMO,’ is out now on Yep Roc Records.