I cannot possibly dive into the wealth and depth of his background but there are a few things worth mentioning off the top: Greenall began his career as a DJ in mid-90s London which was “a thrilling place to be,” he produced for other people (including the young Amy Winehouse), gigged obsessively, and eventually founds his way to an acoustic guitar – something he will speak in-depth on below. That first ‘Fink 2.0’ album, Biscuits for Breakfast (2006), was a big hit, some tracks off it still occasionally sip out of restaurant windows and as emotional background music in movies. Many albums later we are now here, at IUII (It Isn’t Until It is), which came out in early July.

IUII (It Isn’t Until It is) is Fin Greenall’s a “re-imagining, a reminiscence and a unique take on the “best of” format” from his lengthy repertoire. The album also comes with a biography book. All of these songs have seen global stages performed by a full band, in full colour, so to say. Fink’s last tour, however, was an intimate performance that took him back to the early days and this new album is a reflection of that feeling. 

In light of this new release we got our hands on an exclusive interview with Fin Greenall, so let’s dive in!

Images courtesy of the artist. Introduction written by Kateryna Topol, interview provided by the label. 

How did you come up with the title for your new album “IIUII” and what does it mean? 

”The album’s called It Isn’t Until It Is. It was an expression that came from my manager because we put this record together as a concept and we couldn’t come up with a name. Because it’s not a Best of and it’s not a Greatest Hits because I have not ever had a hit. So it’s more like a reflective, Memory Lane Moment, you know, and all the titles we came up with just sucked so much. And then my manager just said, “Hey, dude, really, the book’s about it isn’t until it is, it doesn’t exist and then it does exist” and so that seemed to fit it. And then we put it together in just letters. IIUII – it’s like the four key members of the band and you. It stands for me, I, and it stands for Guy and stands for Tim and Sumit. We’re in this together and then you’re in the middle of it all. You see the psychology involved and you see that’s beautiful isn’t it. Took me ages to think about that.“

IIUII is an acoustic rework of your album tracks. How did you choose which ones to redo?

”We asked the fans, what are your favorite cuts, what cuts would you like us to redo? And we kind of knew what the top five were going to be pretty much from the Spotify research pool. There were a few surprises in there, like “Maker” and some of these and “Pills in my Pocket” and some of the old ones…Taking the, if you like, the Best of tracks and then re-recording them live now, it was a way to reminisce and look back and have a nice think about it, but also to update the music with this voice, which is, you know, been around now a little bit… It’s just a beautiful way to open up a relationship with these old songs. And I hope that the audiences who like this stuff… we’re not trying to replace the old ones with better versions, not at all. It’s just like here’s an alternative just in case.“

How have the songs grown from the first time you recorded them and how have you grown?

”It was really because as a classic cliched artist when you listen to your old albums, which none of us ever do, and I certainly don’t, you can’t stand it because you’re like, oh my God, my voice is so young. Oh my God, we were so naive. Or you have these weird relationships with it. So it’s nice to go back in and re-record it and be like, okay the me now is doing the songs from back then. So I can sing better, I can play better, I’m more grounded and I’m more myself than I ever was back then. We’ve toured for 15 years, you must have learned something. Because the song can exist… the song itself can exist in so many different forms. There’s the version that you record back then, which was the best you could do and everything you wanted at that moment. But the song itself hasn’t actually changed at all in 20 years or 15 years or 10 years. Its lyrics and melody and structure and tempo and chords and… but you change. So how do you filter that information, like totally changes over the years. Yeah, you find moments in these songs where you can give more or take more or push more or pull more to put different emotions into different areas. And yeah I, I loved the process, you know, I really did.“

Let’s go back even further: how have you started making music?

”I was always into music, even as a kid, my dad’s a musician, there’s a lot of musicians in the house, lot of gigs that I went to, which I hated because I grew up in the 80s and the 80s was an amazing melting pot. I mean, all decades are in a way, but the 80s were just mind-boggling. You had like the birth of Electronic Dance Music. You had Hip Hop Culture. You had like the Punk element of modern music essentially sweeping away everybody else, like Punk did in the 70s, but in a new way where it’s like you can get involved, you know, it was incredible. And I felt that energy as a teenager. Being in Bristol as a teenager was amazing, you know, you had Massive Attack and Tricky and Portishead and this Bristol Sound, you had Soul II Soul on the radio, you had pirate radio, you had Rage, you had clubs. It was just like, this is so new. So I was really, really, really into music. I bought my first decks at 16, you know, and me and all my friends were into deejaying and we’d go clubbing all the time. And we loved it. But I never thought music was going to be like a career choice, like never even crossed my mind. I think I was more interested in fashion than music at that point or being a professional skateboarder at that point. You know, it just was like music didn’t factor in.” 

How have you started making music more professionally?

”I went traveling and I traveled the world … and it completely changed my attitude to life. And then I went to university straight after and met a bunch of guys. And one of these guys, Lee Jones, he is still a really dear friend of mine, we pulled together our student loans and bought a computer and a synthesizer and made some music. And I realized, God it’s that easy. It’s actually not hard. The hard part is being ok sharing yourself. Even if you’re making Techno, you’re still saying, hey, I made this Techno track, what do you think? Opening yourself up for judgment is not for everybody, right? Especially when that judgment is like, actually, you suck and you should quit [laughs], which is often the reaction of my early material. 

But somehow or other, we got signed and we put out a record and I was hooked … In the early days of Dance Music, you would make music in your bedroom. You’d cut it to a record, you’d sell it in the shops, you’d get your money, you put it under your bed, and then you do it again. And I thought, well, that’s pretty easy, I can do that. And then in the 90s, I started to work for the major record companies as a marketing guy and a plugger and a press dude and all these different things, while I was also a Ninja Tune guy. I learned about the real nuts and bolts of the music industry, agents and managers and, you know, live and all these old-school concepts. I didn’t know if I was going to be a professional musician or I was going to own a record company. Those were the two dreams. I was either gonna be Richard Branson or… Thom Yorke, let’s say, you know, one of those two guys, either is good, I’ll take either one of those is good.” 

How did you go from Electronic Club Music to Live Instrument Music?

”So that was [the] second crossroads, seeing a bunch of gigs that really blew my mind. I could feel it in the air that live music was starting to become more interesting than club music in the late 90s. It was just that club music had done a bunch of turns: Drum’n’Bass, Deep House, Breaks. All these things had happened. And club music was a bit like, what now? And if you were a DJ in the late 90s, you were also thinking to yourself, what happens next? Am I just going to DJ at Fabric again next weekend? Is this the thing now? And then I saw Radiohead play OK Computer live, which was amazing. I didn’t know any of their music or anything about Indie Music at all when I saw that. But it was like, dude, I want to be a roadie on that tour because that was the best 90 minutes I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t believe it. 

And then I saw System Of A Down, the Metal band play a tiny club in London, Astoria, and there was more energy and fire and focus in that room on a Wednesday night in the middle of a tour than I’ve ever seen anywhere before. I was like, holy shit, man, I’ve definitely missed…. clubbing’s great, clubbing’s cool. I get it, I like it. But dude, that was some crazy shit. I was getting emotionally touched by live music and I wasn’t getting emotionally moved by Dance Music. At the same time Ninja Tune Records said, ok, everyone on the label if you’re not live by next year, you’re all dropped. Because being a DJ is great, but it’s not selling records anymore. So we need you to be live. Thanks to Jay Swinscoe’s Cinematic Orchestra, who just gone live and prove to everybody, hey look, guys, look at me, I’m famous now. And it’s like, oh no, we’ve all got to do that now. All of us. Bonobo, Mr. Scruff, me, everybody.“  

How did you get interested in doing singer/songwriter music?

”Thanks to the José González. Veneer was an amazing record, and it suddenly made being a singer-songwriter cool. And you think I hadn’t realized that before. I didn’t think, you know, I didn’t think David Gray was cool. And I didn’t think, you know, these other singer-songwriters that were around in the early noughties, I didn’t think they were cool. I thought I was cool. And then José put out this amazing Veneer record and I’m just kind of like, that is so… and Kings of Convenience as well. A great record. And I’m just kind of like, oh, my God, ‘Quiet is the New Loud’, you know, abso-fucking-lutely. So it kind of made it ok for me to explore it. Hearing José do his Veneer record, it really allowed me to go, aaaah I think that’s kind of cool. I want to be that guy. And then, you know, you had Bon Iver and you had, you know, lots of interesting guys putting out really cool music at that time. And then I was in.“  

What are your tour plans with the “IIUII”-album?

”The tour that we’re going to do with this record is stripped right back to the original trio, just the three of us on stage doing it like we were doing it in 2006 and 2007, just the three of us. I got to say, it’s very exciting. I mean, it’s very naked and revealing on stage is just three of you. But, um, yeah, it’s cool to think about it like that. So, I mean, it’s kind of like therapy for us because it’s like the first 10 years of Fink was such a ride, we didn’t really get a chance to even think about it at the time. To go back and do it on this record to actually revisit the first ten years, 2005 to 2015 has been an opportunity for us to process those years.”

Are there any plans for a new record?

“I think there’ll be a new Fink record in ’23, I’m pretty sure about that. I think I’m going to start writing it in maybe November and do November to January, lock myself in and do a new Fink record. But what it is going to be about and what it’s going to sound like? God, I got no idea.“

The post Fink reflecting on the past through his newest release „IIUII“ appeared first on Quip Magazine.

His live tours run on a well-oiled schedule and (almost) every fall Fink comes to Toronto, almost always to the same venue, The Mod Club. This year was no exception but one thing is different with this year’s tour: Fink is flying solo.

The stage was set in the center, with a half-circle of guitars set to the right, just within reach of the stool. An intimate, but Fink-aware crowd gathered for the show. As he took the stage, light cheers washed over the room. After playing “Pills In My Pocket,” from Biscuits for Breakfast Fink got a little sentimental, reflecting on how long it has been since that song and album have come out, a few people in the audience nodded in agreement. Promising to play some new stuff and some old stuff the show covered a range of his tracks including “Maker” and “Sort Of Revolution” from an album by the same name (2009) and “Warm Shadow” from Perfect Darkness (2011).

“Give me just a little bit
Give me an inch you know I’m taking it
And all of this time we spend talking shit
Baby it’s all about making it“

~ “Maker” from Sort Of Revolution

The female half of the audience went particularly wild for “This Is the Thing” from Distance and Time (2007) and “Pilgrim” from Hard Believer (2014). As Fink shredded his guitar singing ‘Doesn’t matter when it mattered yesterday / And tomorrow ain’t too far’ the crowd went into a bit of a quiet awe, some singing under their noses, others just swaying like grass in the wind, waiting for him to share another insight into his musical genius once the track comes to an end.

Naturally a few tracks from the last release, Resugram (2017) and upcoming Bloom Innocent (set to drop on October 25 via Ninja Tune) also surfaced during the show. When it comes to new music it is a lot of discovery for the old and new fans alike. This performance has been a timely retrospective of Fink’s wealthy music repertoire and many attendees knew the lyrics. Admittedly, those of us who have been fans since “Kamlyn” may have lost track of a song here and there but hearing the new works is a welcome occurrence. A live Fink experience is always a refresher and reminder of a more solemn state of mind.

There are a few more weeks left until Bloom Innocent is ready for public consumption but in the meanwhile, we can ride the waves of the live show.

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As time went on Fink’s singer/songwriter line up of albums grew with a very specific, Fink sound that acquired a tight and dedicated niche following of fans. You will hardly hear his music on the radio, you will, and probably have, heard a song or two in a TV series or a commercial.

Looking over his discography there really is nothing mind blowing about Greenall’s music but everything about it is unlike the mainstream – there is always a story, the music evolves and grows throughout the track, Greenall’s voice is calming and somehow nurturing, and nothing is the same regardless of the compositional consistency. Hearing Fink once has a power of drawing you into the fan club and you can’t walk away from it unless you listen to the album at least a handful of times.

When Fink started singing, Ninja Tune pushed him towards becoming a primarily live stage performance. The show has evolved from the first tour in 2006 so it was no surprise Toronto’s MOD Club was packed with smiling faces.

London’s Douglas Dare begun the night with his soulful keyboard driven performance. Dare’s voice, much like his music, is powerfully sad and despondent which turned out to be a perfect start to an equally melancholic Fink set. For the main show the stage was lit up with what seemed like a hundred office lamps. There are no computers or mixers on this stage, just three guitars and a drum set.

I think we often forget what good acoustic sounds like, or associate it with a solo act in the corner of a dive bar singing covers of The Clash but a solid set of live instruments can build a bigger than the world sound that wraps the room with guitar strings. Fink live is one of those acoustic shows that exceeds all expectations of a typical singer/songwriter performance. The sheer scale of what you see and what you hear is encompassing and swimmingly smooth.

For nearly two hours Fink played songs from their newest album, Hard Believer, a few from Perfect Darkenss, and even some from Distance and Time. Though many of Greenall’s songs have been featured in various movies and shows “Warm Shadow,” soundtrack for The Walking Dead season 3, seems to be their favorite pop culture feature. Without a doubt, that one track has grown their following over the last year but hardly anyone felt like a brand new fan at the show. Eyes closed people were singing along with smiles all around the room tapping, clapping and bopping to every track.

As the band wrapped up the show with a quick encore the crowds poured out of the venue with stacks of newly purchased vinyl. Let’s make this into a tradition and do it all again same week next year.

photos by Luis Enriquez

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Bored with the increasing monotony of the scene, he turned to songwriting of a more acoustic nature. Save for some hints of piano synthesizers, you’d never guess the path Greenall took toward making his latest album, Hard Believer.

A project of Greenall’s since 2001, Fink has grown from one to four members. Tim Thorton on guitar and bass; piano, guitar, and vocals are “aided and abetted” by Chris Nicholls and Ruben Hein. The quartet creates complex and beautifully lacquered music with their latest album, Hard Believer. It’s some refreshing music that their Facebook describes as, “Folk/Blues/Dub/Indie/Post-rock.”

The first track, “Hard Believer,” acts as the album’s cornerstone. From the first pluck you realize that Greenall and Thorton are men in touch with their guitar. It’s more an extension of his body than a outside object. He sends the music coursing through you, and it feel like launching out onto a canoe trip. “Hard Believer” is a man singing about a woman who just won’t believe that they should be in a relationship. He aims to seduce someone into coming home. While we’ll never know the woman’s final decision, it is a wonder how anyone could resist Greenall’s sexy request—“come over here”—for longer than this track, yet alone the entire album.

The album succeeds at creating a distinct atmosphere. To listen to all of “Hard Believer” is to watch a ship be built.  It’s an entity you can return to again and again for a stable, secure ride. It provides space for contemplation, and each new listen you find more fine touches to admire. Track after track you gain a sense that each instrument is methodically layered; “Truth begins” and “Keep falling” are two examples of the fine sensitivity guiding the album.

Unfortunately, not many of the lyrics are outstanding. Things are hot like the sun and silence can be heard is not a very fresh way to talk about the world. But sometimes, as in “White Flag” and “Looking Too Closely” the reserve works for Fink. “White Flag” is a gorgeous 5-minute track about someone strung out and tired. It’s a song of surrender. And it’s a reminder that some of the best stories are told without words.

“Green and the Blue” as well as “Keep Falling” give a deserved spotlight to Whittaker’s voice. Especially in the latter, the power and depth of his voice are brought out in full relief. Both tracks show a man drawing out the type of soul he admired when working with Amy Winehouse.

Overall, “Hard Believer” shows that with clear harmonies and sparse, well-chosen words, less is more. Effective as a drawknife, the album is a solid and very affecting work.

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The front bar is a long narrow room. What limited standing space exists is flanked by hi-top tables along the exterior wall, opposite the dim wood top bar, which runs the length of the room. There’s a photo booth before the podium at the entrance to the venue itself, which serves as a box office, and bright bolts of light pop, staggered several seconds, casting momentary shadows above the attendant. Tickets, at show time, have been sold out, and a few groups of fans hem and haw at the periphery of the entrance, waiting until the show starts to find out whether or not they’ll get in.

The concert hall itself is compact, tan wainscoting punctuated by iron sconces convene on a similarly appointed woodwork frame, arching over the stage, which rises no more than a few feet above the floor of the viewing area. But for the soft cloth curtains at the windows, blocking light from the street, the place radiates a sort of Viking mead-hall esthetic. When opener Daniella Sloan comes on, the floor is about half full with a crowd whose style-persuasion falls somewhere between biker-chic (i.e. sans face tattoos, risk of being knifed, motorcycles) and granola-couture. She performs a half-dozen original songs on acoustic guitar, accompanied by a bassist. She delivers a crunchy coffee-culture ethos whose subject matter ranges between chilling out and caring more, born by a powerful alto and seductively nuanced tremolo.

At a quarter ‘til 11, Fink takes the stage to the applause of a now full hall. Someone starts chanting “Double-P,” possibly in reference to the ‘power’ represented by the versatile two-man stage outfit. For the first tune, the brooding Brit-poppy study in self-determination ‘Fear is Like Fire,’ front man Fin Greenall is accompanied by bass guitar. For the subsequent set, however, the bass is set aside in lieu of a small but deftly expressive drum-kit. Fin, on the other hand, splits his time between a dreadnaught style acoustic, and a nylon-strung Spanish guitar.

Fin’s smoky gospel vocals translate perfectly to an intimate setting, and though his set list only rearranges song-order from recent release Wheels Turn Beneath My Feet, his earnest delivery and charming stage presence render an arresting live experience.

Around midnight concert-goers spill out into the bar, some sticking around to drink, while others congregate momentarily on the corner outside. One girl is conspicuously cradling a smuggled clear plastic cup of Jack and Coke, barely hidden by the lapels of her coat. She empties the remainder of a plastic flask into her cleavage, and tosses it into the trash-can on the corner. “Fink was like Sons of Anarchy meets fried fish,” someone loudly proclaims. And baffling a description as that may be, it touches on the show’s appeal.

As much R&B as trance, as many elements of British pop as American blues and soul; Fink weaves in all of his influences evenly, never letting the gears poke through, nor letting the audience forget why they came to his show.

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