Simon Finn - The second life of the psych-folk shaman

Simon Finn is a small great legend. A cult kept secretly alive by a few, in an almost esoteric way. Until the year of our Lord 2003, when luckily for us he was contacted by David Tibet, who then gave us the reissue of the magnificent “Pass The Distance”. And since then Simon's artistic life has started up again, between new releases, concerts and the sincere tribute of a community of artists and listeners who saw in him a genuine character and a folksinger of undiminished talent. Simon Finn's music is magical, enchanting, out of time like few others, even though it's firmly rooted in a specific historical period. On the occasion of the release of his new album “Accidental Life” we tried to reach him for an interview, which he kindly granted us despite being on tour. Enjoy the read.

I know you're on tour at the moment, Mr. Finn, so first of all I'd like to thank you for your availability. So, I'd like to start by asking how your life has changed since the reissue of “Pass The Distance”.

I used to lead a shabby life, taking risks, gambling. Now I lead an even shabbier life, playing and singing, but at least I meet a lot of people and visit a lot of places. It's enjoyable, and I wouldn't have wanted to do anything other than this.

How did you get in touch with David Tibet?

David (Tibet) wrote to me after David (Toop) passed him my address. He had already tried to track me down several times, but I'd lost all contact with David Toop since around '70 or '71. This happened in 2003. Then we had a lively correspondence, and eventually decided to meet up in London.

Let's talk about “Pass The Distance”. I know it was pulled from the market over issues with the cover. How exactly did that story go?

The thing is, the cover bore some resemblance to an ad put out by a fairly well-known shoe company in the '50s and '60s. I guess they weren't quick enough to notice any similarity between their shoes and “Pass The Distance”... It took them roughly a year to catch on. Apparently some people from that company showed up with a copy of the record and put two and two together. In any case, they insisted that Mushroom (the label that originally released the album, ed.) had to withdraw it, and that's what happened. Fortunately, that ad isn't around anymore.

Why did you leave the music world after “Pass The Distance”?

I stopped making music when I arrived in Canada. There I started working in organic farming and teaching karate. If I remember correctly, my last concert was in 1971 or '72 at Hammersmith or at Sheppard's Bush. But I never stopped writing. Writing is like therapy for the poor. A good number of writers are poor, and they work better that way.

When you started out in the 1970s, were you a solitary artist, or did you have contact with other musicians?

I've always been quite solitary. I certainly worked with David Toop and Paul Burwell on “Pass The Distance”. Now I usually play with Joolie Wood, and sometimes with the help of a full band. I really enjoy playing with other people, even though I need a certain amount of time to myself to write, reflect, and recharge.

I honestly think “Pass The Distance” is one of the finest folk albums ever made. What were your models when you started out (if there were any...)?

I don't know. I spent a couple of years playing upbeat folk-pop songs, but a lot of things happened to me in that period in London. In 1968 I went to live in Spain for four or five months, then came back to London and started writing “Pass The Distance”. I was mesmerized by flamenco singers. I loved those dissonances and the way they managed to express their feelings. I never had any idea what they were singing about, but the music was so powerful that it barely mattered to me.

I recently played a concert in Majorca, where most of the audience was Spanish. At the end of the concert a man bought me a drink and told me: “I didn't understand the words, but I 'felt' them, so I don't think I need to understand what they mean”. He was probably drunk, but that episode seemed to echo something that happened to me years earlier. It made me feel good.

How did you spend these 35 years?

Obviously that's too long a period to put together a complete list of everything I've done, so I'll tell you about the things that brought peace and meaning to my life. I've had the chance to build friendships, to fall in love, I've grown and tended a wide variety of plants, practiced martial arts and meditation, played and written music. I've also taken risks, gambled, really. Sometimes it paid off, sometimes it didn't. Sometimes for good reason, other times on some rather crazy business ventures - for instance, I tried to spread the use of water filters, but society wasn't receptive to that sort of thing in 1982, nor could I convince most of my friends to use them. Ten years later, they were all using Brita filters (Brita is a company that makes water filters, ed.).

Let's talk about “Magic Moments”, your comeback album. It seems gentler and at the same time less doomy and biting than “Pass The Distance”. Are you satisfied with how it turned out?

The songs on “Magic Moments” are a mix of things from different periods, which is also one of the reasons I chose that title. I was young and rather unhappy when I wrote “Pass The Distance”. Now I'm old, I have fewer problems, and I've found ways to overcome difficulties.

What was it like to start making music again after 35 years? Did you have any trouble approaching the songwriting for "Magic Moments"?

No, none at all. "Magic Moments" was recorded quickly and completed by Efrim of the Godspeed You Black Emperor in his Montreal studio. Nowadays it's possible (if you know how) to do almost everything in post-production. Still, it was hard to compete after 35 years of absence, so I thought I should preserve that live sound I got with Joolie (Wood).

What has changed between “Magic Moments” and “Accidental Life” (if anything has changed)?

“Accidental Life” had the benefit of a very well-equipped studio, of being produced and mastered properly, and above all of having some wonderful musicians. I've been lucky. And the way CD production now favors these processes, although I doubt I'll be that lucky again in the future.

“Accidental Life” - why this title? Is life always “accidental”?

Life is chance. Like when you try to overcome the difficulties that chance forces you to face.

As we were saying, you're on tour at the moment. How has the audience been responding to the new songs on “Accidental Life”?

Thank goodness, it's been really great, even though I've always played a mix of new and old songs. People often travel to come hear songs from “Pass The Distance”, and many of them still mean something to me, so I'm happy to play them. It's a kind of thread that ties me to the past, although I prefer playing them with the band.

"Myrmidons" is a beautiful song. What's it about?

I've always thought it's better for people to come up with their own interpretation of a song. Recently I explained the meaning of a song to someone, and I realized it would have been better for them if I hadn't. I'll just tell you that the “Myrmidons” were Achilles's warriors, but in the Victorian era the word “Myrmidons” took on the meaning of thug (in the modern sense - thug comes from thugghies, an Indian cult). Nowadays that word has fallen out of use. I came across it when I was about 8 or 9 years old, I think, in a comic book, if I remember correctly. I loved the sound of it and the feeling it gave me.

Why wasn't “Accidental Life” released on David Tibet's Durtro?

“Accidental Life” was produced by my old producer from '69, Vic Kear, who hoped, and tried, to sell it to a major label. Which is a rather strange situation, because it's not major-label material. In the meantime I've put it out on my own label, 1 To 10 Records. “In the meantime”, though, doesn't mean “forever”...

Like “Pass The Distance”, “Accidental Life” is an album out of time. Is your music influenced by the state of political and social affairs?

“Big White Car” is a song about money, “Jerusalem” is about hypocrisy. I feel well-versed in a lot of things, but it's really hard to mix politics and lyrics. That's probably why a lot of politicians aren't great writers. And conversely, pay attention and see whether writers have ever run, directed, or organized anything. Writers tend to communicate their worldview outward, even if it ends up staying only on paper. Politicians should be glad they only have to reveal their innermost opinions occasionally - and it's also been shown to be a dangerous gamble.

Your music has something transcendent about it... What's your relationship with religion? Are you a religious person?

Yes, intuitively, but not in any specific way. I feel strongly that we're individual parts of something. The incredible thing is that we're here on this earth at all, even though the provocateur in me wants to tell me that this is mathematically less incredible than the possibility of life after death, the existence of other dimensions, or life on other planets.

When human beings first saw lightning, it must have blown their minds. But when someone saw that first flash, someone else must have later said: “Wow! Grandpa said he met someone, who talked about someone whose brother heard someone talk about these things.”

But today we live in a time that has nothing spiritual left in it. People don't believe in anything and buy things to distract themselves, or they belong to “I'm right, you're a loser” clubs, which, spiritually speaking, is the equivalent of a Jaguar with leather seats.

Maybe the best thing is to spend a few weeks in complete solitude. Jesus and Buddha both believed strongly in this. I've done it myself, up to about 14 days, after which you feel capable of tuning in even to rabbit droppings. That, to me, is spirituality.

The new generations seem bored and without ideals. What's changed today compared to the '60s and '70s?

I'm really not in a position to say. I suppose a lot of people back then maybe believed in something. Life is easier if you have plans, goals, even if they're wrong ones. Life is simpler if you believe in something after all.

“Nature abhorring a vacuum” (“Nature abhors a vacuum”, by Roger Bacon, ed.) is much more than a scientific concept

“And in the beginning there was... something!” That could be my guess, why not?

One last question, philosophical in its own way. What do you think of mp3s and the possibility of downloading music for free?

Like those artists whose albums stay alive thanks to bootlegs, I'm not really in a position to complain too much. At first it seemed like a great idea to me. I liked the fact that anyone could listen to their favourite artists for free. The problem, though, is that most people tend to respect things more if they pay for them. When people had no money, I used to let them attend my karate classes for free. Guess who wanted to move up to the next class more often?

The other problem is that this situation is harder for less commercial artists. If you're popular, you can get a lot of royalties from radio play. For me that amounts to next to nothing a year, so my income comes from cd sales and gigs. You can download “Accidental Life” for 19 cents a track, or the whole album for £1, just a week after its official release.

There's no going back now. I think (I read, I hope) that a percentage of people want to have a physical object with lyrics, photos and liner notes. But it's a percentage that keeps shrinking. You can't fight these things, you can only shake your fists and pray.

(22/10/2007)

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google