In the shadow of university life and the absorption of popular songs from the inventive immediacy of England and the USA (primarily the UK), five lanky Auckland lads forged a musically creative performing unit, one that was based on the ambition of taking their own songs to stages around the wherever-land of the world.
The unity was intent, serious and their dynamic solidarity very real and strong. They were truly united in the ambition to bring their own songs to the public’s attention. And in detail, it was a quick, luck-of-the-draw outcome that found the band walking into one of Auckland’s principal recording studios.
Two songs would be recorded and brought to life. How did that happen?
In early December 1972, two of these students had realized a musical concept whereby two songs they had written comprised the principal repertoire for a recording session. Phil Judd and Tim Finn had written two songs; 'Split Ends' and 'For You.' Quickly named thereafter; Split Enz, the songs were complete and arranged in a quirky pattern while at the same time they brought three new faces into the ring leading to the formation of a five-piece band.
And voila! – a lad from Christchurch, Barry Coburn, who held a managerial presence in the music industry took on these five lads and booked the studio in the Stebbing Recording Centre in Auckland with Tony Foster-Moan engineering it all.
The balance of musicians in this unit comprised Miles Golding (violin), Mike Howard (flute) and myself (bass) And then in early January 1973, Mr. Coburn suggested to Split Enz, – “I’d like to fund two recorded tracks and then release a single.”
Split Enz looked at Coburn and asked themselves various questions, all of which had vague answers. What questions? No-one seems to recall but that’s the hindsight of a vague memory, and in that hindsight: the questions should have been asked of Coburn. But, instead, they listened quietly, wondered a little and then it came to be.
On the 4th February 1973, Split Enz clambered into my father’s Morris 1800 car and ,with Richard Burton booming out ‘Under Milk Wood’ through the in-car valve sound system, we opened the studio door, walked in and introduced ourselves to the Stebbing Family and their various employees. Tony Foster-Moan was there. An audio engineer of real skill.
The large studio room was deeply silent. The pristine nature of the place, surrounded by monitor speakers, a grand piano, B3 Hammond Organ, percussion and a vehemently well-hoovered carpet floor, brought us into a bubbling excited environment.
We were in there with a purpose.
And within a few minutes we were plugged in with the flute, violin and bass guitar up in a line, and Phil Judd seated with his acoustic guitar, and Tim Finn standing at a vocal microphone ready to lay down vocals. That’s the lineup.
That is what was poised and in readiness. We hardly ‘knew’ the songs, but we were ready to move ahead.
All it needed was a 1-2-3-4 !! Catch-cry. That’s what it got, and the playing began.
The evolution of recording sessions in the first instance of a musician’s ambition brings an extraordinary empowerment to the fore. Yes, there are the dreams that build up a strength in the performance realm. And it is then crucial that the forward motion of every step taken is real and ongoing. It’s not rocket science. But it’s mandatory.
There have been decades of recording sessions where songs that are brought out from the wings take pride-of-place with the many integral parts that make recorded popular songs stand out. Like what?
Metaphors
Harmonies
Effects (delay, reverb, distortion, compression and so on)
Repetition
Dynamics
… And onwards. But the core seam of a song’s certainty of place is down to the music and the lyrics. Together they merge in a pattern of that special nature undertaken and they are fixed in place. Forever.
The first sessions of Split Enz carried those factors and they placed them out front. It was a very special creative advance.