Split Enz
Second Thoughts

THE REVIEW

On the other side of the world, strange people live. You find them on a large island, with rather ambiguous customs: they dress like clowns and tear time apart.

It's from New Zealand that Split Enz come, what has been defined as the most underrated Rock Band of the century.

Of course, perhaps they were one of the few bands that fully embraced the concept of new wave in all its nuances: molding and disguising themselves in a musical and social landscape too averse to their slap-worthy faces.

Neither the teaspoon solo of Noel Cromble (a percussionist evidently tired of traditional instruments) nor all the great piano experience of E. Rayner sufficed; Tim Finn's talent and style were of little avail; Split Enz remaina band of ragtag losers.
In short, the kind of characters that if they weren't musicians, you might even find them almost likable; but clearly you hate and despise them for their flaying of the contexts and customs of the average rocker and the musical genre that "the rocker-med" embraced and defends with fanaticism (subject: the contexts and customs).

In 1976, the clowns took a plane to the Old Continent, to record an album that was already important to me. I could have reviewed the first album, "Mental Notes," to introduce the Splits to the (big?) public; but I believe we would have lost the tenor saxophone of Gillies, which was vitally important to warm the musical mask of this great band.
Moreover, I would emphasize the fact that the true clownery, the pantomime of themselves and their own shadows, reached its completion exactly with the second album: with "Second Thoughts," Split Enz were born.

Fascinated by progressive rock yet light, behind the makeup and absurd movements, they hid an overflowing ability to weave and intertwine time and rhythm of each song. Let's be clear, Split Enz are freelancers: harmony is only sketched out. No formal refinements or powerful riffs. We have a crazy guitar that continuously goes back and forth tonally, in a delirium of omnipotence; Finn's nasal voice bouncing with a very personal jester style; the saxophone to massacre the universe like a train. All of this supported by a precious early 20th-century ragtime piano, a marvel in its genre for versatility and expression. And it's precisely ragtime that is the strong point of the kiwis: exasperated tempo changes, a collage of movements, musical gestures and almost-rhythmic improvisations, dictated by perhaps very precise mental laws, perhaps totally attributed to chance.
And you know, I find the overall effect wonderful.

These New Zealanders, in constant search of faces on which to stamp a smile, have been able to dig into the deep recesses of the rawest and most childish rock, only to pull out of the hat the first of future wonders. The problem is that the genre is not liked, overall they are (sym)pathetic, and then, they seem like fags. And surely losers. Ugly, infected, and they can't play together, they make noise, they cause chaos, they are to be discarded, and they are really ugly ugly.

Ladies and gentlemen, be serious: if you're looking for great tragicomic rock (and do it without prejudices), Split Enz '75-79 is your answer. Along with Frank Zappa and 10cc, they changed a small piece of the rock rules: they introduced the "WEIRD" factor.
All this, already ten years before those flamboyant eighties; in which they were still on the scene along with Devo and Oingo Boingo.

I would say: if you think they are just strange kids, coming from the island of fools, with strange ideas, playing on their own like "the penis of your dog," and who accidentally stumbled upon the right notes, well, listen to "Stranger Than Fiction" (which describes them perfectly), then decide if you don't want to take music theory lessons from them.

Ah, and someone seems to have hidden a mandolin somewhere around here...