When Split Enz formed in Auckland in 1972, spearheaded by Tim Finn and Phil Judd before Neil Finn later joined the ranks, they built their reputation on a theatrical art-rock foundation. Their sound has always been a collision of new wave pop and eccentric variety. Decades later, they refuse to abandon their visual oddities. At Sydney's TikTok Theatre last week, the band made its way onto the stage entirely concealed beneath a creepy, monochrome shiny sheet. They then dramatically unveiled themselves. It was a bizarre entrance that immediately established their enduring quirkiness, a personality trait that remained on full display for the entire, brilliantly energetic set.
Despite the youthfulness they still bring to the stage, it is worth noting for anyone keeping track of such demographics that not a single core member of the band belongs to Generation X. The Finn brothers and their legendary collaborators are firmly rooted in the Baby Boomer generation. Yet their timeless eccentricity makes them feel entirely unconnected to generational categories.
On stage, Neil Finn undeniable owned the center. Beside him, Tim Finn simply exuded cool and executed every move with effortless grace. A fierce sense of New Zealand pride radiated from the performers, though they graciously took time to acknowledge their formative years in Sydney and the city's vital importance to the band's early survival.
Musically, the performance was a triumph. The percussionist acted almost as a special effects maestro and brought every trick in the book to the stage. This ensured the live sound captured all the intricate, textured details you normally expect from a recording studio. There were a few minor equipment hiccups along the way. These moments, however, only highlighted the natural charm of the band. Tim and Neil's banter turned technical glitches into charming breaks that genuinely enhanced the show rather than detracting from it.
I observed all of this from the back of the theatre, which was fine. Neither the sound nor the visibility suffered from that vantage point. The same cannot be said for those who paid top dollar for the front row, who were subjected to a baffling, clear Perspex barrier. If you were seated, you spent the evening staring through a transparent wall like a visitor at an aquarium. It is an absurd arrangement for premium seating. The venue really ought to either take down the screen or remove the seats directly behind it. I certainly will not be throwing away money on that section for future concerts.
The only thing that failed to match the band's boundless vitality was the audience itself. The crowd was clearly over fifty and dotted with a few younger faces pulled along by their cool parents. While the music demanded a riot, it received mostly polite, seated applause. There were a few women making a valiant attempt to fight the lethargy and dance, but the broader audience looked as though they had stayed up well past their bedtime. It was a peculiar thing to watch "those" people who decide they would rather beat the traffic than watch an encore. Yet that was the puzzling finale to an otherwise masterclass in quirky pop. Split Enz remains as vivid and essential as they ever were and overall I loved the concert.