There is a recurring dream Finn Andrews has. Detectives, a wall, years of pursuit finally ending in capture. “After all these years, we’ve finally got you,” they say. He thinks the dream is about making records. Eight albums and 25 years into a career that has taken him from London to Auckland and back again more times than he can count, Andrews is still running — and still, somehow, getting away with it.
Fragile World, the latest record from The Veils, arrives at a time when the world feels like it is coming apart at the seams. It was made quickly, nervously, and with no fixed plan — the opposite of everything that came before it. We caught up with Andrews ahead of the tour to talk about how the record got made, what it means, and why he has finally stopped trying to figure out where home is.
The album is called Fragile World and you’ve described it as a reflection of a time when institutions are crumbling before our eyes. Is this a protest record, or is the title more personal than that?
I wouldn’t call it a protest record exactly, I wouldn’t know how to direct songs in that manner. It’s a record made purely for the sake of making something in the face of an increasingly maddening world. It’s complex, because on one hand music is utterly futile in the face of war and the numerous displays of human cruelty we see all around; but on the other I think when human beings are acting at their most venal and unempathetic, art and music becomes even more crucial. I might be fooling myself but art seems to be humanity at its best, and that feels a worthwhile force at the moment.
You’ve said you make each album as “a kind of atonement for the last.” What were you atoning for with Fragile World, and what sins did Asphodels commit?
I think the cardinal sin of Asphodels was that I consciously prevented myself from having any time in the studio to experiment. It worked for that record to have this strict “3 days in the studio, all live to tape” policy, but I missed being in the studio and I wanted to give myself a bit more time. The songs on Asphodels were meticulously written and arranged over years and played live night after night on numerous solo tours and so by the time I recorded them I knew exactly who they were and how they should sound. This record was the opposite and I went into the studio with no idea where we were heading and allowed the recording process to kind of dictate the direction they were heading. It was instinctual, stressful, and a lot of fun all at once.
Fragile World was recorded live to tape with no fixed arrangements and only a few weeks to figure out what the record would even sound like. You’ve described it as “scary at times, but a good kind of scary, not scary like the real world out there.” How do you hold your nerve in that situation, and does that anxiety end up in the music itself?
Yeah it’s been a hard-won confidence that I certainly haven’t possessed until very recently. I don’t entirely trust myself, but I’ve come to trust the songs and listening to what they want as best I can seems to be the only way forward.
In a recent interview you said “we just use the same tapes” at Roundhead Studios, meaning previous takes from Asphodels have physically bled through the strata of the tape onto Fragile World. You said you love that process and find it inspiring, but was keeping those moments a deliberate choice, or did they just stay because they belonged?
Yes we’ve made four albums on the same old tapes now — I loved hearing old versions of myself bleeding through like a ghost. It was really inspiring. Something about the act of recording over my old self also felt very exciting. There’s a few moments where you can hear the ghosts of the past visiting the present on this record.
There’s a conversation among listeners about whether The Veils is still a band or has effectively become a Finn Andrews solo project with touring musicians. You’ve noted yourself that Fragile World is “mostly Tom and I playing everything.” How do you see it yourself, and does the distinction matter to you?
Since I was 16 there’s been this “it is a solo project or is it a band” thing around, but I’m pretty relaxed about it now. It’s neither, it’s both, who cares anyway. I love collaborating with people, and there are people I play with that I’ve played with for 20 years, and people that I just met that day. There’s a revolving door policy in The Veils, people come and go all the time. I love that about it. It’s flexible for whatever the songs need.
You were born in London, grew up between there and Auckland, and have spent 25 years touring the world. You’ve described starting the Fragile World tour “back home in dear Aotearoa” as feeling right. Where is home now, and is that still a question that means anything to you?
I’ve exhausted myself trying to get to the bottom of that question over the years. I love London very deeply, and I feel nothing but gratitude for New Zealand and the numerous gifts it has given me. I’ll never feel entirely at home in either place, but I’ve made a kind of peace with that now.
Alongside the full band shows on this tour, you’re also performing a series of solo dates. You’ve said performing solo allows you to present songs the way they first materialised. Do they feel closer to their original truth when it’s just you playing them alone?
They just feel different — I think the journey they go on after they’re written is just as important as the fragile state they arrive in, but it’s nice to be able to air them in that state as they certainly have a very different quality to them. They’re so innocent in that state, and that innocence has its own particular kind of power I think.
You mentioned ahead of the Asphodels tour that imposter syndrome was something you still grapple with. After eight albums and 25 years in music, does it ever actually go away?
I think for it to be defined as imposter syndrome I would have to not actually be an imposter, and I have been an imposter all my life. When I walk on stage I’m someone else, and that’s where a great deal of the excitement comes from for me. I don’t deserve any of the success I’ve had, I’ve had to work at it relentlessly, and I’ve failed far, far more than I’ve succeeded at anything.
“Aurora” was written and recorded on the same day a geomagnetic storm swept over New Zealand. You said “sometimes things are so beautifully simple.” How often does making music actually feel that way, and can that simplicity be chased or does it only arrive by accident?
I think you spend your life chasing those accidents, if you know what I mean. Most songwriters long for simplicity. The world is chaotic, and though the song has the illusion of perfection in it they are just as much an agent of chaos as anything else.
The Veils have never had mainstream commercial success but have built one of the most intensely devoted fanbases in independent music. You’ve said you judge each record’s success simply by whether you got to make another one. Is that still how you measure it, and is that the outcome you would have chosen, or simply the one that happened?
I have a recurring dream where I’m being pursued by a group of detectives for some unknown crime, and the dream ends with them getting me up against the wall, looking me dead in the eye and saying “after all these years, we’ve finally got you”. I think the dream is about making records. Every record I feel like I got away with something. Eventually they’ll catch up with me and stop me getting to do this for a living, but they haven’t caught me yet.
You wrote the lyric for “Lungs” years ago when you still lived in London and, as you put it, “still smoked fags.” Looking back at that version of yourself, what did he understand about music, or about life that you’ve since lost?
I think, generally speaking, he was a moron and I’m surprised anyone wanted to hang out with him. I’ve learned a lot in these last few years, I’ve become far more of a real person. Don’t look back. Never look back.
Fragile World is out June 19, preorder here. The Veils tour New Zealand next month.
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