The TCT Folio: ANTICIPATION

Marjorie Cardwell was born in Northern Ireland, holds dual British and Canadian citizenship and currently lives near Melbourne, Australia. She has been married to David for 18 years and is a full time mother who does a bit of volunteering and a bit of music now and then.

Also in this folio, essays by:

Matt Lucas
Colleen Matan

Anticipation. I'm always anticipating great things from Neil Finn.

To hear the sound of Neil's voice again. I wouldn't go as far as to say I lived for it. But I do look forward to it and expect it every year to 18 months. It charges my batteries for another while. Of course I can hear it any time I want on record, but I'm ruined for just that. I need to hear something new and I need to see him and hear him in the flesh. I'm thankful for the concept of promotional touring.

It wasn't always like this. For most of my life all Neil's voice was to me was the memory of hearing "I Got You" on the radio. That first time I was about 18 and I remember stopping in my tracks (albeit very short ones) between the kitchen and living room of the first tiny house I owned with my husband David in Portadown, Northern Ireland. I stood there till it was finished and heard the name of the band (Split Enz, in case you're scratching your head, but I doubt if many are). "So that's what they sound like!" I was more than a little surprised because I did in fact know the name. There would be the odd snippet and picture in the New Musical Express (the only weekly newspaper we actually bought in those days - ah youth!). I would see them and instantly get them mixed up with the Kursaal Flyers (my remembered spelling), whose lead singer's big, odd hairdo and inspired ditty "I know that she knows that I know that she knows that I know she's two-timing me" (as I recall - don't hold me to it) had captured the nation's imagination for a half-hour or so.

Now, to hear this voice and connect it with that name. Stunning. This was the beginning of the 1980s "music's decade of shame" (my own little term, don't stone me for it). Not knowing the horrors that faced us, we were all revelling in so much good music, you wondered how anybody could make bad music. (Ah youth!) Still, that song stood out. It was the next new direction, I didn't doubt one bit. And he managed to sound like all three Beatles at once (and not a bit like Ringo, who's singing voice has its place ...). I didn't knowthat Split Enz had abandoned their art rock leanings for a leaner sound and that the reins had been somewhat handed to wunderkind Neil Finn. Later, I revisited his past, when I was enjoying his present. It wasn't all great. It wasn't even all good. But it all pointed to the hope of more and better. It was full of anticipation and I didn't know anything about it.

I didn't know much else about Neil Finn until around 13 years later. I was in the British Isles when Crowded House were big in North America, and I was In North America when they were big in Britain. Split Enz were having their day and seeing it end, and I was having a career, giving up a career, having children, buying and selling houses and listening to old music almost exclusively. I was not, shall we say, into the new wave of hair bands. Or hair nets. The odd hit single filtered through but very little. John Lennon was dead and so was modern pop music, I thought. My patient husband wasn't so easily discouraged. He kept the faith, kept poking 'round record shops, listening out for something inspiring. Crowded House's Woodface came into the house. "You should listen to this", "Yeah sure". "It's the guy out of Split Enz"......"I used to like them didn't I?" "You did."

I listened. Oh yes--I remembered that "Fall At Your Feet" song being on the TV. I read the album lyrics. Wait a minute. What's all this? This isn't drivel. This isn't drivel! I listened again. And again and again. I started watching the cable video station. There they were--but they looked different and who was that American looking guitarist? And what had happened to Neil's hair? "Distant Sun" was the record. Aw they've lost it, I was wrong to bank on them ... but no. It is good. Good grief, it's sublime! So where is this new album? What the heck - I'm going to join their fan club. The first one since I was in the George Harrison fan club at the age of 14. I was 31 and joining a fan club.

Together Alone finally came and with it the chance to actually see them live. See him live. Talk about anticipation. Flipping heck--it was an event. I waited outside the theatre in Seattle in the afternoon sun to try to hear the soundcheck. I DID WHAT???!!!!! - a voice from only a few years earlier is suggesting that I go quick smart and have my bumps felt ... but I did. I didn't know it was to be their last tour. I didn't know things weren't going as well as they might have. I thought everything was brilliant and I couldn't believe my eyes or my own reaction when Neil Finn sauntered up and said "Hello." And what did I say? Nothing. What did I do? Dropped my jaw to my chest and stared. What did my husband do? Laughed his head off at me.

The Finn Brothers record came out. I was happy as a pig in muck. I didn't give two hoots what anyone else thought. This was brilliant. Neil was growing. He was becoming all he promised with "I Got You" (whatever he thinks of that song himself). He hadn't become it all. Not perhaps yet. But he was striding ahead.

Crowded House had their three swan songs. Would he throw a few crumbs to the begging crowd to shut them up for another while? Not exactly. He'd put out three exquisite pop gems and throw them away to let whoever managed to find them drifting in the wind find more hope in them.

So they broke up--eventually. Never for a moment did I think I wouldn't see or hear Neil again. Somewhere in my brain something says, "You have rediscovered music in this man. It is your right to be there as he keeps the spark alive. He won't let you down." That particular part of my brain is a little overdramatic, I admit, but it is something close to the sensible truth.

So what sort of anticipation have I been experiencing as I wait for Neil Finn's first solo album? It's quiet and confident. Yes, he's throwing me with talk of fashionable collaborators and recording techniques. Loops and samples. The drum machines of the 90s. But I'm not really worried. I trust Neil. He is the most organic of artists. So human. Everything he sings and writes is so human. I trust him with his loops. You see I know he'll have the songs. Yes, I've heard a few in the interim. On the radio (from England via the internet, as I recall). On the television. Live the other night in Melbourne where I now live. But apart from that, I just know he will anyway. It's in him. It's what he does. It's what nearly everybody else doesn't.

There'll be the tour. Will it be a mellower affair? I don't think we'll be crammed up the front with our chins (all of them) on the stage. I'm not even sure that Neil will attract a new bunch of very young fans this time around. I hope he does. I hope the youngsters my son's age and a little older aren't too dumbed out to appreciate him. I wouldn't expect much moshing but you never know. Perhaps that's what he wants with all those loppy smapples. I'm trusting that he just wanted to make the sounds that he could hear in his head. Perhaps someone will try to spin it that way: "Neil Finn ooh he's soo modern--no, honest he is'. I won't be listening. He's out of time. Like all the best of them. Grabbing everything with gusto. Never limiting themselves to others expectations and anticipations. Making it all their own.

Loops, samples, ancient keyboards, field recordings, biscuit tins, dried peas in old Ovaltine cans, cheap out of tune guitars, state of the art everything ... anything ...

Neil's voice. Neil's songs.

But from what I've heard, what will be different will be the level of poetry and apparent soul-baring that we might see in his lyrics. Of course Neil's forever telling us that they're just words. Scrambled Eggs. Sugar Plum Fairy. Whatever gets him through the night. Whatever they are I'll be going white and then red and probably occasionally blue, because I can't figure out how he managed to write a song about me and what I know and what I think. What I said and what I did. And many, many others will be thinking the very same thing. And none of us will ever admit it, will we? Because we're not that silly, are we?

Anticipation. I'm going to get what I expect. Another jolt. Another thrill I can return to for life. Another chance to watch Neil take another step along the road to greatness.

Another chance to cheer him on his way.