A touch of Finn-esse

He's loosened up, shaken off his solo fears and swears he's not as conservative as the fans may think. Colin Hogg talks drugs and religion with a relaxed Neil Finn.

Neil Finn walks in wearing the same old haircut and same old straight-ahead air.

Finn's been moving straight ahead since he joined his big brother Tim's band, Split Enz, at the age of 18. He's 42 now, with two dead famous bands, 14 or 15 (he can't remember exactly how many) albums and several million kilometres of touring behind him. That sort of thing might seem to make other people in pop music remarkable, but there's something almost defiantly unremarkable about Neil Finn.

He's been back living in New Zealand for six years now, but you'd hardly know it. Finn stays out of sight, hermit-like, until he's got a good reason to stand up and be noticed. This time he's about to release his 15th or 16th album, his second solo release since he split up his last famous band, Crowded House.

It's called One Nil, more because the title sounds good rather than that it makes any particular sense. It unveils a dozen new Finn songs, some of them - especially a folksy ballad called The Last To Know - as good as anything he's ever done. And that's saying something. It's out in mid-March, following a national university orientation tour which will include a few surprise celebrity guests, rumoured to be Australian Paul Kelly and Finn's old Pearl Jam mate Eddie Vedder.

Finn bent over backwards with his first solo album, 1998's Try Whistling This, to not sound like Crowded House, or any sort of band at all. This time he's loosened up enough to bring in other musicians and the songs rattle and shake and loom larger as a result.

He's also loosened up enough to co-write five of the new songs with someone other than the older brother. Her name is Wendy Melvoin, a fireball of talent from America who has previous played (drums, bass, guitars and vocals) with Prince and her own duo, Wendy and Lisa.

Finn seems quietly pleased with the new record, though he hasn't dressed up to celebrate. For our meeting, he's wearing a green shirt and green strides, giving him the appearance of a bookish bus driver. He certainly doesn't look like a rock and roll animal, but he's had his moments.

Finn has always seemed a conservative in an unconservative business and he supposes that's true... "given that I've got a family and that any excesses I might have indulged in have never been public, which I'm very glad about.

"I'm not as conservative in reality as some people might assume. I haven't led a sheltered life and certainly in the early days of Split Enz, we lived life to the fullest."

What steadied him was the belief he grew up with that it was a cliche to wear your rock and roll excesses on your sleeve.

"(Split Enz percussionist) Noel Crombie's idea of indulgence was to put on a clean set of clothes and make sure he had a shave and go for a walk in the country," says Finn. "Though these days he's gone completely bohemian and not making any effort at all. He looks like a farmer." Which is maybe what happens when you take too many walks in the country.

Finn's own country roots suffered a major loss last year with the death of his mother, Mary. It shook him.

"It threw me into a spin when mum got sick and died. I didn't feel particularly attached to anything I was doing. I didn't feel much enthusiasm for making music. Then Christmas came and I thought, 'shit I've got an album coming out and I don't really feel very much like having an album coming out'."

This is a man who has, in the past, been known to get slightly annoyed at having an international hit record. He's aware of how that sort of thing can mess with your life. He's in the popular music business for the long run, he says. Try Whistling This wasn't a hit, but it still sold a respectable half-million copies round the world.

"This time," says Finn, "the lyrics are more apparent and not wilfully obscure. I'll err on the side of obscurity if the words sound better and more interesting. It's not that I don't want to tell a story like Bob Dylan. If I could, I probably would."

In his recent history too there's the business of mate and musician Dave Dobbyn suddenly coming over all religious and reborn. That sort of thing might tempt a chap to ponder the God thing.

"I grew up with it and it's part of me," says Finn, a Catholic. "Last year I went through a period of trying to figure out what I do truly believe and I can't honestly say I know. I've got friends who have recently been converted to a much more active and enthusiastic belief in God, which I must say I'm slightly envious of.

"If there's some kind of conversion that comes in a blinding flash, I'd like to try that sometime, but I haven't really. I wouldn't mind an epiphany. I wouldn't mind seeing an alien or two either... I haven't even seen a ghost."

He's kept his eye out for them. He hasn't been averse to other sorts of out-of-body experiences, either, though he' starting to think the whole drug thing is getting a bit silly.

"There's a lack of respect for drugs. If there's ever a legitimate reason for taking a serious drug, they're at their best when they're taken as an experiment, to find out more about yourself.

"I'm not against some frivolous use of drugs, but I can't believe people would take acid and go to nightclubs. I find that remarkably strange because of the number of random things that might go wrong. If people are going to take drugs, they should do it with some respect.

"I find the drug culture boring as a point of reference for music. The presence of pot has been pretty consistent through a lot of the work I've done. I've always found it good to help you focus and get into the zone, but it's not essential and you have to be able to do it without it."

Finn's had to be able to do without a band too, since his decision to collapse Crowded house around his own ears.

"I miss being in a band," he says. "Just describing someone as a solo artist is inherently more boring than a band. Bands have an allure and hopefully a dynamic between strong characters. But I've yet to see a band that shouldn't have broken up at some point. I have no regrets about not being in a band. I want the interplay with other musicians, but I don't want the baggage."

Though there's quite a bit of baggage in his life since his decision to base himself in New Zealand - Parnell, Auckland, to be exact. He's often having to pack up and fly off somewhere. "In many ways it doesn't make any sense to live in New Zealand when you're a musician who wants to engage with the world in any way. But I made a decision to come here and be part of the environment with my family and that meant sacrificing being part of the global citizen thing.

"I hardly ever go out. We like hanging at home. There seems to be a great divide between where I am and the young pop industry, which is celebrity based. I've always tried to be relaxed about being well known for a song that's out at the moment or anything to do with the music, but totally resistant to the notion of being a celebrity who turns up for functions.

"Anyway, New Zealand's such a small country it's easy to be a celebrity here. All you have to do is... read the news. Celebrity would make living here a bit of a pain. The level of recognition I have is plenty enough for me.

"Occasionally there's a pissed wanker in a pub when I'm trying to look at a band, but generally I find it pretty easy. I'd rather be regarded by the media as not very interesting. The Michael Hutchences of this world who embarked on a celebrity career have almost always come undone.

"There was a period where the paradox of being in a rock band and at the same time trying to keep my family life together gave me a lot of angst. It made me more negative. I'd been a pretty positive, optimistic guy for years and then I went through a bit of a down phase, but I feel I'm emerging from that now. I'm starting to enjoy what's going on for its own sake, rather than for where it will take me.

"I have been through a bit of angst about the new record. What's in the charts and whether I'm relevant anymore. Then I thoughy, why worry? Now I'm totally lacking in fear about how it might go."

Said with the same old straight-ahead air.

Neil Finn and guests play Christchurch Feb 20, Dunedin Feb 21, Taihape Feb 28, Palmerston North March 1, Wellington March 2, Hastings March 3, Hamilton March 6. Then Auckland March 26 to April 1.