Split Enz

Rip It Up, Issue 5, 1 October 1977, Page 9

Split Enz

Bruce Belsham

The night before Split Enz’s Auckland concert a revealing anecdote came my way. Story has it that in an Auckland kindergarten a pupil was listening to the radio, when single “My Mistake’’was played. “Oo“, crooned the four-year-old, “the clowns’ music’’. Testament to the blanket coverage of the Enz tour? Certainly. But the tot’s reaction is also eloquent for the band's newest image. Can you imagine a pre-schooler doing anything but fleeing in terror from Phil Judd's scary-eyed enunciation of “Spellbound", or even from the extreme stylisation of Courting the Act. I’ve no doubt that this youngster would have found the live act a lot more puzzling than the safe television clips she’d seen. All the same, Split Enz were this time bouncier and brighter than they’ve been since the Pantamonium concerts of 1974. Entertainment it was before theatrics, energy before aura. And that

appealed to the house. I wouldn’t have been personally surprised to find the band facing a crowd jaded by media barrages, but not so. Perhaps it was the impact of short songs snappily put together (17 in total), perhaps absence endears the heart, but Auckland clamoured for its favourite sons.

It wasn’t one of the best sets Split Enz have played locally we haven’t seen that vintage for a couple of years. Yet, considering the Finn, Griggs, Green rhythm section is still establishing itself, we got a satisfying rendition of Dizrythmia material and adequately played extras.

More telling in terms of projected success is the impetus given songs by thevisual performance.“ Crosswords", leaning towards tedium aurally, is enlivened by a clownish mime of mass bitching and mutual abuse. The spoons solo in “The Woman Who Loves You" is in about its sixth generation. Tim Finn's stage manner is now

as evolved as Neil Finn’s musical resources are still to be tapped. Antics as opposed to dramatics are back on the bill— from announcement avertising “mementoes of disrhythmic evening”, to a Noel Crombie violin debacle. Nigel Griggs stumbles around in his pinstripe like a crazed hood who has fallen in the make up basket. Neil Finn looks startled. Malcolm Green loses his drumkit on stage.

A dozen and a half songs there were, some like,“True Colours" disappointingly performed, some like “Without a Doubt" more unified than on record, most adhering closely to their originals. But in the end, more than material, it was the band's mere presence that served them best. I mean it shows we’ve still some claim to them. Like Lord Rutherford and Bluff Ovstprs