Most artists covered on Make It New would be lucky to have one band make the cut. Neil Finn and Paul Hester have two that are equally deserving of their inclusion. I had previously covered Split Enz, who I found to be a rather endearing slice of Aussie rock with some of the most impeccable lyricism on this entire list. Despite being more familiar with Crowded House, there was a part of me that felt skeptical that they would match the first outing, just because “Don’t Dream It’s Over” created assumptions around a unified sound. I pictured something more atmospheric, closer to shoegaze or the folkloric tendencies of Dream Academy. What I’ve found coming out the other side of their self-titled debut is not only that they’re as versatile as ever, but that long stretches remind me of the manic creativity of bands like Oingo Boingo, with constant surprises that left me very happy.
New Wave, as a genre, has always leaned into the experimental side with a lot of the best bands blending genres and incorporating odd musical influences to enhance a new sound. Like the best of 80s music, Crowded House followed the formula of making these esoteric choices into Billboard-ready hits that played well on MTV and allowed Finn to write an incredible mix of upbeat hooks with introspective and sometimes downright melancholic themes. In fact, it doesn’t take more than a few lines for the singer to reference suicide on the opening track. While I’m unsure that the collective album has a moment as alarming, there’s still a brooding subtext that enhances this into a great addition to the canon.
In 1984, Split Enz went on their farewell tour, cheekily titled “Enz with a Bang.” Future bassist Nick Seymour ran into them at a Melbourne stop in early 1985, where he asked Finn and Hester to audition for the band. While not accepted, members of Midnight Oil also tried out for the group that became temporarily known as The Mullanes. After some member changes, they approached Capitol Records for a contract, which would sign them on one condition. They needed to change the name. They eventually settled on Crowded House, named for the small Hollywood Hills house they shared during the recording of their eponymous debut. While not an immediate hit in The United States, Capitol had confidence in the band due to their having a strong Australasian following.
Unlike most albums covered so far, there aren’t any significant behind-the-scenes stories. Most of the album was recorded in Los Angeles and at Sunset Sound Studios. The artwork and costumes for the album cover were designed by Seymour and collaborated with Finn and Hester on the set design for the music videos, including their breakthrough hit “Don’t Dream It’s Over.” While it wasn’t the first single, it was their most successful international hit that also helped them win the inaugural Australian Recording Industry Awards trophy for Best New Talent in 1987. They would go on to win 13 of 36 nominations. They would also win Best New Artist from the American MTV Video Music Awards.
To start breaking down the album, I want to reiterate how much I like Finn as a songwriter. Every song encapsulates a story that is rich with detail and immediately captures the listener’s interest. I was especially floored by the opener “Mean to Me." Before the first verse is over, her whole motive is understood. She came from America. Her parents are divorced. In one of the more staggering introductions I’ve heard, Finn mentions that her friend is committing suicide. It’s a bleak tale that’s only offset by some Aussie flavor as Finn shouts out his hometown of Te Awamutu before digging into what sounds like a comparatively upbeat and happy song about getting one’s groove back.
At first, the production doesn’t seem particularly engaging. An acoustic guitar delivers the opening verse to allow the listener to center on the prelude. This all happens before breaking into the full band and delivering a fantastic mix of electric guitars and drums as the melody becomes more wistful. Horns enter later on with a sense of discovery that develops as it becomes clear that this woman’s journey to Australia will leave her in a state of bliss while she gets drunk with poets. It’s a perfect blend of somberness and hopefulness that sets the rest of the album up for discovery.
Continuing the record is “World Where You Live,” which slows the tempo down slightly and introduces a more dreamlike atmosphere. While the drums continue to propel the track forward, the guitar feels sparse, allowing the singing to harmonize better on the chorus. The track is more direct, relying on a familiar verse-chorus-verse structure. While there’s an occasional instrumental shift, it’s less ambitious than the opening and features a more conventional approach to the love song that still manages to envelope the listener in wonder. The lyrics are more speculative, as if Finn is considering his subject alien to the environment, even suggesting, “Do you climb into space/To the world where you live?”
Another high point comes with the aptly titled “Now We’re Getting Somewhere,” which features an accordion playing alongside an acoustic guitar as Finn introduces the theme with contradictory lyrics, suggesting a disagreement and that they are “Somewhere in the middle.” Like the previous song, the vocals become jaunty and harmonize on the chorus to symbolize the search for unity. The drums are infectiously driving the rhythm as Finn sings passionately about the befuddling situation. It again follows a conventional pop structure, but feels more purposeful as it mixes in some fun orchestration and a breakdown that slowly speeds up as if reaching a moment of clarity. It helps that the lyrics are so enjoyable because the final two minutes risk being overlong, but thankfully highlight the strength of the melodic potential.
If there is one song that anyone knows by Crowded House, it’s “Don’t Dream It’s Over,” which has gone on to be used for Australian tourism and covered by several artists. With that said, it’s easy to assume that this slower, more introspective song is reflective of what the band would sound like. It hasn’t escaped terrestrial radio in the decades since and has become one of the most acclaimed songs produced by an Australian act.
With that said, it’s kind of incredible how well it encapsulates what I’ve enjoyed about the band, and even Split Enz, for that matter. Whereas most New Wave bands often get pegged with having one of their lesser songs become the inescapable hit, “Don’t Dream It’s Over” at least embodies the discipline their sound generally carries. When the opening verse has the line “Try to catch a deluge in a paper cup,” you know they’re saying something greater than vapid feel-good pop. While it’s peaceful and beautiful, the song still manages to incorporate anxieties of everyday life, such as verse two’s reference to towing cars, tales of war and of waste, and how his possessions are causing suspicions. There is a recognizable melancholy battling with the chorus, which suggests that things will get better. Not unlike Tears For Fears’ “Everybody Wants to Rule the World,” there is a playfulness that makes it work on multiple levels, suggesting both sadness and hope. Even with the calamities that the song covers, the final verse ends with a line about “liberation and release.”
Then there’s the production itself, which continues the trend of starting with a sparse guitar rhythm. This one echoes through an emptiness that feels like it’s slowly developing life. When Finn’s vocals enter, the drums click along. The smallness competes with the grandiosity of space around it, as if this is a deeply insular track. The chorus is the sweet spot where “Hey now!” is given a deeper resonance as Finn calls for unity. In a fun twist, the final stretch not only gains confidence as it builds a more immersive palette, but the bridge features an organ that echoes with new life as it transitions from the quieter half to the more orchestrated portion. As far as songcraft goes, this is a phenomenally designed work that makes use of every second.
Then there’s “Love You ‘Til the Day I Die,” which shifts into more Oingo Boingo adjacent sounds. Along with a screaming introduction, the music is harsher with the guitars at times sounding strangled. The drums are more prominent and exciting as the bridge brings in louder instrumentation and Finn declares, “I believe in doing things backwards.” Given that it features eclectic percussion, it captures a sense of madness that is in keeping with the lyrics, suggesting an overwhelming passion and obsession that sounds sincere. It’s maybe the most ambitious song so far simply because it has more instrumentation along with rhythmic shifts to slower portions, as if taking a breath before returning to the intensity of the central subject. It’s also quite the contrast with the sleepier “Don’t Dream It’s Over,” in that it has the same left-field moments of building, but they are less polished and more about immediate emotion, no matter how deranged they come across.
In keeping with the stylistic shifts, “Something So Strong” starts with a piano reminiscent of Carole King before digging into the guitars, organ, and drums. It’s another track that is best described as being direct, but the simple lyrics have a powerful emotion that makes up for any shortsightedness. The playful way that the organ accentuates Finn’s vocals helps drive the song past a conventional love song that may not say much beyond the typical hopeful introspection. It’s another example of how well the song and music craft work together to build a singular emotion, reminiscent of 60s pop ballads on similar subject matter with a bit more stylized guitar choices thrown in for good measure. It’s also easily one of the most memorable tracks on the entire album.
Everything shifts yet again to the mystical nature of “Hole in the River,” which opens with the striking line, “There’s a hole in the river where my auntie lies.” While the lyrics are largely nature-based, there is curiosity about why she is lying there and in what condition. Given how peaceful the orchestration around it is, this appears to be a meditative track about wandering around and looking for answers. It’s not the most musically complex, but it ties into the atmospheric side of the band, who are looking into audio’s ability to create vast openness. With that said, the bridge features fun orchestration with discordant piano and horns contrasting with the sensitive strings, as if suggesting a duality of the man trying to make sense of something spiritual. It’s among the most grandiose tracks and reflects the capabilities of the band to expand pop into world music categories without losing their appeal.
There’s not a lot to say about “Can’t Carry On.” The production is lovely, and the harmonies on the chorus are effective in the right ways. However, it feels like one of the few weak spots on the record. Given how many tracks here have shared a similar atmosphere and emotional orchestration, it’s not a song that stands out despite having some fun music choices. There are points in the verses where the guitar scratches that add personality, but this is closer to b-side material personally. The same could be said for “I Walk Away,” which leans more into the electric guitar side of the album and does so with a decent level of intrigue. If nothing else, the bridge has a fun banter between the drums and guitar spattering through an odd melody.
Just as the album risked ending on a series of filler tracks, it saves itself with “Tombstone.” While a bit more novelty in the lyric department, it’s a fun return to playing with themes and storytelling, mixing ideas of western cinema with the idea of death. Like the previous songs, it’s not necessarily challenging their form too much, but the clever lyrics carry everything enough to produce something compelling. It’s a brilliant mix of escapism and mortality that has been themes running throughout this entire album. As silly as it is to have references to the Lone Ranger on here, it at least makes sense as a story about hanging up one’s hat in a sense. Also, the line “Roll back the tombstone” is another infectious hook on an album full of them.
The closer “That’s What I Call Love” is another track that reminds me heavily of Oingo Boingo and features more of Finn singing in that jerky cadence. It helps that the opening line is, “You take away my air,” because it feels like a man searching for any sense of survival. Much like the opening track, this has been about attempting to escape darkness and find meaning in unknown places. The drums are pounding, and the vocals echo like ghosts in the background as he shrills through the chorus. I love the call and response nature of the vocals on this song and think it ends the album on one of the more experimental sides, including audio from a woman who sounds as if on a voice recording. If nothing else, it showed how much more potential the band had for any follow-up, especially since this is easily the most overeager and challenging song on the whole record sonically.
As one can guess, there’s a lot that I personally love on this record. Much like Split Enz, Crowded House is a band that defines New Wave in its ability to retool the familiar and bring forth ideas that have potential. This feels like something organic and new, and I think “Crowded House” has some of the most inspired lyrics from any record covered. I can understand why this was the Australian band that caught on and became an international success story. I’m eager to hear more of their work, which, from what I can tell, is a whole lot more.
To wrap this up, Crowded House would go on to sell 15 million records worldwide. After premiering in 1985, the band would continue to release music and tour until around 1995. During this time, the line-up changed significantly while featuring Finn and Hester as central figures. Even members of Split Enz would later join the group, including Neil Finn’s brother Tim. During their original run, they produced four records. However, tragedy struck when Hester committed suicide in 2005. Like most New Wave bands, they would have a series of reunions throughout the years, including most recently starting in 2009 and remaining ongoing with their latest record produced in 2024. With that said, Split Enz is also currently active, so the house is probably more crowded than ever for Finn and company.
Despite being a perceived one-hit wonder in America, Crowded House more than deserves attention for making music that challenges the form and creates lyrics that encourage the listener to parse through the imagery to better understand what is going on. As a whole, this is another home run of a record and further evidence that Finn might be one of the best songwriters of the New Wave era. I’m hopeful that digging into both of his bands’ extensive catalog would produce even more wonderful discoveries. For now, there’s one record that mixes wonderment with sadness in ways I haven’t really experienced before. There’s a good reason they haven’t gone away. Their dream is far from over.
Coming Up Next: The Cars – “The Cars” (1978)
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