It’s been a long wait, but this reunion gig did not disappoint

MUSIC
Split Enz | Forever Enz Tour ★★★★
Rod Laver Arena, May 13

Nostalgia acts are supposed to take you back to a specific time in your life, but Split Enz disbanded in 1984, before I was born, so I guess I am nostalgic for my entire life. Their music permeated every inch of my upbringing in Aotearoa New Zealand, and this reunion tour, their first in almost 20 years, didn’t disappoint.

The band takes the stage under the cover of a golden cloth. Out burst four early members of the Split Enz and two newer recruits, all dressed in outrageous two-piece suits. On the stage there is double everything: two percussionists, two pianists, two guitarists, two brothers, in an ever-rotating musical arrangement that demonstrates the extraordinary capabilities of everyone in the band.

Tim Finn, still very much a frontman, swaggers about with a youthful insouciance. The opening songs are all hits – Shark Attack, History Never Repeats, Poor Boy – and then Tim stops to reminisce about the band’s earlier years in Victoria, including playing to a crowd of zero people in Shepparton.

Split Enz’ repertoire ranges from eclectic art rock to heartfelt power ballads to pop bangers. Every song feels big and full.

Lead vocals are alternated between Neil Finn and Tim, and there is an endearing big brother-little brother dynamic on stage. One high-energy rendition of Double Happy is set to a montage of the suits of Noel Crombie, the percussionist and art director of the band. A piano solo by Eddie Rayner leads into a rendition of Six Months in a Leaky Boat that brings the entire seated floor to their feet.

Crombie’s stage antics steal the show. He commands a motley array of instruments: bongos, kazoo, triangle, cowbell, penny whistle and pan pipes to name a few, adding an extra element of joy and levity. The encore features one of Crombie’s infamous spoon solos. In a feat of manual dexterity, Crombie creates a syncopated soundscape with just two regular kitchen spoons and any surface he can strike them upon: his thigh, his chest, the bodies of other Split Enz.

Watching these men in their 60s and 70s doing what they love, I found myself experiencing whatever the opposite of nostalgia is: a sense of hope that there’s always something fun and exciting around the corner, no matter your age.
Reviewed by Rose Lu

THEATRE
Shoelace Chaser ★★★
Melbourne Theatre Company, until May 27

The education season at Melbourne Theatre Company has been super-reliable over the years. One reason could be its strength of focus. Every show has the important goal of producing an engaging introduction to theatre; telling a story for, about and with young people in a way that speaks to the next generation of audiences.

Madelaine Nunn’s Shoelace Chaser races towards that aim in a comic three-hander that lightly explores the bonds of teenage friendship, a growing adolescent awareness of social inequality and its effects, and the difficulties that arise for those who’ve been thrust at a young age into the role of carer.

Talented athlete Thea (Leigh Lule) has returned to track and field at the start of year 12, after time away from competitive sport.

At training, she meets Syd (Elliot Wood) – a motormouth queer boy with rainbow socks who befriends Thea, reminds her of her extraordinary prowess, and encourages her to contest the National Championships as a pathway to a university scholarship.

He’s blithely unaware that an athletics scholarship is the only way Thea could afford to dream of that option. Nor does he know that the reason Thea gave running away in the first place was to care for her mother Fiona (Zoe Boesen), who lives with a chronic hidden disability, never precisely specified.

Thea and Fiona face the financial stress of potentially being kicked off a support program (we’re looking at you, NDIS).

Yet Fiona – a sunny woman into astrology and palmistry, who gives off strong hippie vibes – isn’t one to complain. She restarts her floristry business online so she can work from home, enlisting Thea’s aid, unaware that this might interfere with her daughter’s training.

How will Thea reconcile the responsibility she feels to care for her mum with her own needs and dreams for the future?

It will be no surprise to anyone who saw director Liv Satchell’s Ballkids that the teen friendship in Shoelace Chaser is beautifully observed. Tender, awkward and funny, the bond between Thea and Syd takes centre stage and provides the bulk of the play’s humour.

Lule and Wood generate a comedic dynamic through their very different tactics for coping with anxiety. Wood’s extroverted chatterbox is super-organised, a nervous talker who can’t go more than a few seconds without some catty aside or restless bit of physical comedy. Lule’s Thea is recessed, sardonic, avoidant – her inner conflict finding temporary release when she’s running but needing a helping hand to find expression and resolution off the track.

Boesen resists caricature as the hippie mum whose optimistic worldview at first fails to register the stresses her daughter is experiencing.

The play doesn’t dig too deeply into the grim reality of various inequities. Instead, we get a brisk survey of the issues wrapped in a bright, amusing and slightly sentimental vision which emphasises adolescent friendship, forging a comedy of recognition that should resonate with and entertain younger audiences.
Reviewed by Cameron Woodhead

The Booklist is a weekly newsletter for book lovers from Jason Steger. Get it delivered every Friday.