The great evolution _{by Madelaine Empson}

The Veils are an indie-rock band fronted by English New Zealand musician Finn Andrews, who delivers what is essentially a spiritual reckoning when he performs live. In concert, Elsewhere Magazine declares that he wrings “his electric guitar like some Southern snake-handling pastor filled with righteous certainty and the spirit of his Lord”.

Experience the awakening when The Veils tear it up at Meow Nui on Saturday the 4^th of July in support of their eighth studio album Fragile World. Due out on the 19^th of June, the record marks a striking tonal shift from 2025’s critically acclaimed Asphodels, which saw them play the same Wellington venue last March.

Andrews says it feels right to start the Fragile World Tour “back home in dear Aotearoa… We can’t think of a better way to dust off this moth-bitten black suit and hat and get the show on the road.”

I last saw you play live at WOMAD in 2024, and there was this very sweet moment where the camera panned to your daughter, who was seeing Daddy play live for the first time.

That was one of the great moments for me, it really was.

It was so special to witness and that gig certainly stands out to me. My question is, what makes a gig stand out to you? Especially considering that you play all over the world.

That WOMAD show was particularly special, seeing my daughter from the stage and then seeing her up on the screen. And I think there was a guy dancing next to her dressed as an alien? Very surreal in a great, WOMAD-style way [chuckles]. There isn’t really any formula, it seems, as to what makes a memorable show – sometimes a whole host of factors work in harmony together. It’s very unpredictable. It can come from anywhere, that beautiful feeling. That’s what keeps it exciting, never really knowing when it will ignite.

On the note of gigs that hopefully ignite something special… How did you find Meow Nui?

Honestly, we have loved playing Wellington since the beginning, and it was brilliant to come to such a great new venue. They had a proper grand piano, the sound was fantastic, and all the people running it were lovely. It was a real treat. I have such a fondness for Wellington. My partner’s from Wellington, so I spend a lot of time there now as well. It will be a real joy to get to play there again.

This time, you’re touring Fragile World. I’ve read the album described as possessing intensity but emotional clarity, which almost struck me as an oxymoron. To be so fiery, but precise and measured with that fire… how did you straddle such a delicate balance?

I don’t know, I feel like I’m a bit like that! My interior world is kind of a messy, chaotic one. But this is, I suppose, the area of my life where there is the most focus. A lot of care and attention goes into these songs. This album is an odd one in that way, because it was probably the most instinctual. I’m known to labour over these things for a very long time, hence there being five or six years between a lot of our records. But this one was just a year after the one before, so it’s very unique.

What do you think led to that immediacy?

I had a lot of songs left over from the last record, and there were a lot written since the last one came out. So I sort of trusted that I knew where it was going and didn’t need to lock myself away for a few years to figure it out. A lot of the songs were pointing to quite a clear place. I was excited to go into the studio and figure it out while we were recording. I’ve realised also that I love recording studios; I love being in that environment more than anywhere else, really. I was keen to explore what kind of decisions I would make while I was in that world, rather than at home on the piano or in a rehearsal room with the band.

I have been thinking about how, when I was younger, I was so fraught with anxiety. Every part of this, I struggled to enjoy. I was always so preoccupied with my own failures and inadequacies. I didn’t really ever enjoy being in the studio because I was just trying so hard to make sense of what was going on in my head, trying to be better but knowing I wasn’t – it was a very self-flagellating process. It’s only recently, as I’ve gotten a little older, that I’m trying to have a bit more confidence in what I’m doing. Just to go in and enjoy the incredible gift that it is, to be in a space like that with these amazing people.

Asphodels was such a hyper-controlled record. We did it in three days, and it was all live to tape. Very strict. I wanted to make this a bit of a rebellion against that. Explore the studio, spend time in there, see what happens. That was the initial instinct.

You said you felt like all the songs on Fragile World were pointing to a clear place – can you pinpoint what that place is, now that the record is finished?

I haven’t got a huge amount of clarity on that yet. I find it’s usually after touring them for a while that I start to understand the records more. I think this record reminded me of the first songs I was writing, because I remember feeling a similar way: in a state of overwhelm with the world around me, and retreating to the world of songs. I remember that feeling the most intensely when I was writing the first record [The Runaway Found, 2004], and perhaps the second [Nux Vomica, 2006]. That feeling of hiding away and not knowing what else to do but this. So I think it came out of need, initially: a need to go somewhere else and to try and process what I was feeling. I suppose it mutated as it went along.

Amazingly, I was just about to ask about your first record and how things have changed for you since 2004! It sounds like a huge part of it has been learning to enjoy the process, despite, or perhaps because of, the anxiety?

It’s funny, eh? They call it impostor syndrome, but I don’t think it was that, because I genuinely have been an impostor in this world for so long [laughs]. It’s only recently that I feel like I have figured a few things out. Never felt comfortable calling myself a singer or a songwriter, let alone an artist. It’s been hard won, this feeling of having any kind of control over what I’m doing or any sort of pride in it. It’s all been a process of learning. I was thrown into this very young, without a clue. It’s been very freeing to feel like I enjoy this and I love it and I need it, all at the same time. That’s been a great evolution of my life.