Just days after the tragic death of Crowded House drummer Paul Hester, his former band mates, The Finn Brothers take to the stage of the Royal Albert Hall. However, if the audience are prepared for a sombre performance from the no doubt still shell-shocked siblings, Neil and Tim certainly aren’t. With fenian blood flowing through their veins, tonight is to be a catholic wake, a comedy masterclass and a Crowdies reunion. A fitting tribute to Mr Hester, all told.
As befits the olde worlde setting, proceedings kick-off not in a cascading collage of lasers or the insistent thud of a bass drum, but instead by the shuffling on stage of a pantomime horse. Never afraid to make asses of themselves, from beneath the dancing digger, the Finns emerge. It may be a little lower tech than Bono’s lemon, but Helen Of Troy would surely have approved.
With their trotters kicked aside, the two-some strap on their acoustics and launch (with houselights still dimmed) appropriately into “Disembodied Voices” and let those blood harmonies boil. Given their lacklustre solo efforts of late, the Finns' decision to rejoin the family firm seems an inspired move. Perhaps a little less entrancing is Tim’s dancing. What may have been quirky and esoteric in Split Enz now makes the raffish senior son look like a drunken uncle at a wedding reception. The boys are definitely more song than dance men.
Ably assisted by their chrome-domed compadres, the Stacey twins and the regally attired Tim Smith, the eternal art-schooler and catholic choirboy trade quips and licks with the crackle of sibling rivalry, as Tim reminds junior who the business side of the horse is. Armed with such arch ironists in the band, an evening in Crowded House’s company would be a hoot without the songs.
But what songs they had – pure Lennon & McCartney - and the brothers don’t hesitate to tuck in to their back pages. Of course, a full House reunion can now never be, but for one night only (well maybe three nights), even houseboy Nick Seymour returns to the fold, to carouse "Don’t Dream It’s Over" with the crowd – it’s a fitting epitaph indeed.
