CROWDED HOUSE: WITH THREE YOU GET EGG ROLL

CROWDED HOUSE WITH THREE YOU GET EGG ROLL

FEATURES

by David Sprague

Fourth Of July, Los Angeles style, is strangely subdued. No parades, no flags draped outside the prefab saltboxes, no fireworks . . . heck, for some people it's not even a day off.

"Awright, stop yer sobbin'," you're probably thinkin'. "It's not like yer out in the hot sun carryin' hod or anything!" Fair enough. But the disrespect foreigners show for longstanding traditions like gettin' plenty of sleep on the night of July 3 so there'll be plenty of energy for the cycle of drinkin' and blowin' things up that's sure to follow just gets my (American Mountain) goat. After all, do ya think Neil Finn would rise 'n' shine at 8 A.M. to do an interview on Australian Independence Day?

Well do ya??

To be fair, the leader of Crowded House looks like he'd much rather be napping on some Southern Hemisphere beach than wedged into a too-small hotel restaurant banquette. And the interview isn't the only thing on his mind. As he steps from the elevator, Finn is gazing at the morning's Los Angeles Times—not the entertainment section either. Ya see, this is the morning that a U.S. carrier downed an Iranian civilian airliner, killing a couple of hundred people. You remember. It's also the morning before the afternoon that Neil Finn and family are set to board an airplane from Los Angeles to London—two cities which, incidentally, boast the largest Iranian populations (outside Iran of course) in the world.

'I really do sympathize with the American position,' Finn says. 'It seems as if the country can really do no right in the eyes of the outside world, and that's really not fair. I'm not saying, by any means, that I agree with all the actions of this administration. But this, quite obviously, was an accident. Anyone who thinks different has got to be crazy.'

This talk continues for awhile, as Finn thinks about changing his travel plans. Breakfast orders are made. Boy, Neil Finn sure does eat a lot. Grapefruit, eggs, bacon, potatoes, toast, fruit salad (okay, the fruit salad comes with the eggs, and he seems disturbed about its existence) and plenty of cappuccino. Between bites, Finn manages to mumble a few syllables about his sometime home of L.A., his busy schedule, and Crowded House's new album, Temple Of Low Men.

Temple might come as a surprise to the couple million or so who snapped up the trio's single-laden debut—it's a much darker record, almost brooding, and not as immediately accessible as Crowded House.

'The first record wasn't all that immediate either,' Finn says, a trifle defensively. 'After all, it took about eight months for anyone to even notice it—aside from a few reviewers.

'It was really ironic last time. I said to our manager at one stage when we were sure it wasn't gonna happen and he wanted us to tour, that I'd learned enough to know that there was no point to touring in a vacuum. I said I'd tour if the single hit the top 50. I figured that was that—'Let's book a holiday honey, there's no way we'll be touring.' '

But just looking at the songs, there's a definite shift in mood—there's no 'Something So Strong' on this album, certainly.

'I never cared very much for that song actually,' Finn chuckles. 'It was just a simple bit of straightahead strumming; almost generic to me. It got by on a little vim and vigor, but it was too plain for me.

'In a way, though, I suppose we were trying consciously to break out of the role of Those happy-go-lucky wacky Antipodeans.' '

Eighteen months ago, Finn seemed perfectly at ease in that role—turning a New York appearance into an audienceparticipation spectacle that could've passed for the Gong Show, offering bribes to an L.A. audience when drummer Paul Hester decided mid-gig that he needed a burger...

'None of that was planned outright,' Finn claims. 'In L.A. Paul just decided he wanted a Fatburger. Well, he didn't really want one, but we were marvelling that there could be a chain called Fatburger, and people would eat them. We just offered tickets for the next show to anyone who'd go out and get him one. One guy did, and passed it to the front, where Paul stuffed the entire thing in his mouth. Not one of our more glorious moments, actually.'

There'll be less chance for such spontaneity this time around, Finn admits. Crowded House haven't done a fullfledged American tour since they established themselves as a frontline pop act. They won't be jumping in at arena level, though. Finn insists he, Hester and bassist/album designer/ haberdasher Nick Seymour agreed that three or four nights in a 3,000 seat hall would be preferable to a one-night-stand in a hockey rink, so that's the game plan for this winter's tour.

Some people have suggested that the only vote that'd really count would be Finn's. That perhaps Crowded House has a few of the earmarks of a dictatorship. It's also been suggested he's tiring slightly of his role as autocrat.

'I've heard that I'm a dictator, but not that I'm tiring of it,' he smiles. 'I still enjoy that role really. No, no, it's not really like that. Ever since Split Enz, I've been heavily involved in management and handling situations as soon as they arise, whereas Paul and Nick tend to find out about things later and complain. I guess to that extent, I'm probably most heavily involved in the direction of the band.

'Plus, they're my songs. We do my songs because I'm hungry to get them out. But as far as being a dictator... we'll have elections next year!'

Like any serious artiste, Finn's very protective of his songs. He confesses he's not too prolific—he's more the type who agonizes over every note of the dozen or so songs he writes each year. It's a habit he picked up in Split Enz, the New Zealand art-rock aggregation essentially led by his brother Tim (whose solo LP Neil's in Los Angeles to help out on). In that band, Neil's contributions had to be true standouts to get any notice. Still, he tends to be his own harshest critic.

Photos by Timothy White/Onyx

'I liked abdut half of the last record, and I supposed the ratio is a little better this time—maybe two-thirds,' he admits. ''At certain times, I'll listen to the songs and hate all of them. You've found me in a really good mood to say I like two-thirds.

''In the back of my mind, I always think there's a huge jump I have to take—that I'm one step short of writing something really good. There are certain songs on the new one that I'm terrifically proud of—'Mansion In The Slums' for one, although people tend to look for too deep a meaning in that one. And 'Into Temptation,' I think is one of the best things I've written.'

That song, a lengthy, introspective ballad, might well be the centerpiece of Temple Of Low Men, with its look at the pros and cons of unfaithfulness. There's little in the way of autobiography here, though, unlike ''Don't Dream It's Over,' which Finn penned during a rocky period in his marriage a few years back.

''As with anybody, there's a lot of my life in my songs,' he nods. ''I'm not so precious with the truth that I won't change a line or two to make things rhyme. There's obviously less in, say, 'Mansion In The Slums' and 'Sister Madly' than in 'Don't Dream' or 'Hole In The River,' but I don't think that necessarily means this is a less personal album.'

Finn obviously feels very strongly about it. Questions that even remotely suggest Temple might be a tad less easy to, as they say in the biz, ''get into' than its predecessor are met with a quizzically pained look. He seems, unlike most ''Rock Stars,' to genuinely feel the enthusiasm he's expressing for his new work.

''I don't see any way that someone who enjoyed the last album could be disappointed in this one,' Finn frowns. ''Yes, it may take a few more listens to get into. I consider that to be a good thing. Work of quality often does take awhile to reveal itself. You didn't like the album very much, did you?'

Truthfully, this writer finds Temple kind of a comedown from the band's debut, and somewhat lacking in the hooky instrumental interplay that makes Crowded House such a pleasure live. Finn, as you might expect, disagrees.

''Melody-wise, this is a much better album,' he insists. ''I think we were far more adventurous—there was nothing like (the scat-bluesy) 'Sister Madly' on the first album. I definitely see us as having progressed. I don't want to just do the same album over and over because people liked it the first time around.'

A stock answer, perhaps. But if Neil Finn's intent was to shake the self-imposed wacky image Crowded House've been yoked with, this album seems like a good place to start.

Sure, Nick Seymour (who designs their duds) still has 'em sportin' outfits almost as silly as their old bolero suits, and the video for ''Better Be Home Soon' uses some cuttin' up to leaven the melancholy tune, but overall, Temple Of Low Men makes the Aussie/Kiwi trio sound much more like a ''serious' ''band' or some such beast.

''If this band were Split Enz, we never would've had a hit here in the first place. We never would've had the patience to wait seven or eight months for it to happen. We probably would've just said 'stuff it!' and walked away.

'I really have no delusions,' Finn insists. ''I know what business I'm in and I know it's not particularly savory. If we happen not to do well with this record, I don't imagine all the people running around telling me how great we are will be there in the end. We both work in what has to be the sleaziest business around, man, and you've just gotta try to avoid the shit as much as you can. I'll still be writing songs no matter what.' a