The Veils
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The Veils

Bath, England, United Kingdom

Bath, England, United Kingdom
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'The Veils is, of course, a veil-- one for frontman Finn Andrews to lurk behind. Not only is he the lead singer/songwriter for this pop-noir outfit, he's also the only person to appear on both albums that bear the band's name, after a split with the London-based line-up that recorded 2004's The Runaway Found sent Andrew retreating to his childhood home of New Zealand to start the band anew for Nux Vomica. But if the Veils are a band in name only, Andrews has a good enough reason to use the alias: His father Barry is a founding member of XTC, and the younger Andrews has probably read too many Rufus Wainwright or Sean Lennon reviews that can't separate the prodigal son's work from that of their famous fathers.

Unlike those mentioned above, the Veils' parentage really is an irrelevant footnote-- though if you told me Finn's father was Nick Cave or Jeffrey Lee Pierce, then we'd have a more thorough discussion of heredity on our hands. To be completely reductive, Nux Vomica is the new Bad Seeds record that Cave has forsaken in favor of Grinderman, or the first Gun Club album to crack the UK top 20. It's a development that wasn't entirely anticipated by The Runaway Found, whose lush balladry posited the Veils as arch dramatists in the tradition of Dog Man Star-era Suede, post-Richey Manics and post-fame Pulp-- hearts firmly on sleeves, but with the spilled blood all cleaned up. Nux Vomica retains its predecessor's flair for the grandiose, but repositions the Veils as purveyors of a gothic Americana, inhabiting desert-stormy vistas that are just expansive enough to house the band's most valuable asset: Andrews' magnetic, outsize persona.

The parallels to Cave run from the superficial (the way both men enunciate the word "loooord") to the substantial, as Andrews shares Cave's preoccupation with crises of faith. But even at their most depraved, Cave's songs still portray moral redemption as an end to be, if not always achieved, then at least valued. Andrews speaks in more obvious metaphors-- "There's an angel at my table/ And a devil up my sleeve"-- but is more ambivalent about his belief in god, or even love; as the Celtic jaunt "Calliope!" argues, when unrequited romance turns requited, "what's there left to believe in?" For Andrews, this pervasive ennui is all the more reason for him to camp and vamp it up-- and so the domestic doldrums of "Advice For Young Mothers To Be" get dressed up in a deceptively cheery ska-disco; by contrast "Jesus for the Jugular" mocks organized religion using the theatrics of the pulpit, its taunting blues riff and thundering bass-drum lurch goading the singer into Black Francis hysterics. But instead of simply positing a god/devil dichotomy, Andrews deviously emphasizes their co-dependency, asking, "would the fox be as quick if he hadn't his hound?"

Such proselytizing is always more convincing when it's punctuated with big bangs, and the reconstituted Veils deliver them with such startling proficiency-- the spaghetti-western cavalry charge of "Not Yet", the lightning-crash clamor of "Pan", the horse-whipped guitar/organ shocks of the title track-- that they make more stately romantique turns like "A Birthday Present" and "One Night on Earth" sound like the work of a different, more typical Britpop band. But then Nux Vomica is so focused on the big picture, it never gets undermined by the small stuff.'
- Pitchfork


A singer's fragility is one of the trickier things for a band to make interesting. The Brit-rock canon is full of excellent sad-sack mopers, but just underneath Morrissey or Robert Smith's misery is usually a touch of camp, cocky snarl or starry romanticism that suggests they're going to make it out of the bar OK at the end of the night. You have to find different shades within your black moods and make something new from them.

Finn Andrews, the striking frontman of the Veils, has a streak of lovelorn bleakness as deep as the night is long. At Spaceland on Wednesday night, the U.K.-via-New Zealand quartet did something I'm not sure I'll see again in rock music today -- they really, truly frightened me.

Their set was on a constant knife's edge between Andrews' vibrato-for-days vocals and relentlessly creative guitar playing, and the sense that when he sings a line like "There's a bulls'-blooded fountain in the pit of a moan" (from the fantastic noise blast "Jesus for the Jugular"), he might actually have seen such a thing on the walk from the club parking lot. His Flannery O'Connor-style creepy preacher hat, and an unshaven, alabaster complexion that suggests he lives off a varied diet of scotches, only accented the band's sense of gnawing doom -- though it was leavened with melodic sweetness and a lovely ear for arrangement detail.

Now, I'm a total sucker for this sort of thing. I have no idea if Andrews, after a show, is still a version of his onstage personality, or if he cracks a six-pack with the boys and plays Wii tennis. But as far as his set last night went, it was probably the most moving, unsettling and unexpectedly haunting thing I've seen in rock music this year.

The thing that caught me off-guard about the Veils live is that, on record, they come from a long line of bands up to something similar. They were obviously raised on the good stuff -- the Smiths, Pulp, Scott Walker -- but going into their set, I wasn't sure if there was still blood to be squeezed from those stones. A quick pass through "Nux Vomica" and the recent "Sun Gangs" proves the Veils have obvious debts to bands with big tenors and dense verses. But whatever that weird, implacable thing is in a singer that makes you just have to look at them, Andrews is soaked in it. It takes an otherwise evocative song and makes it terrifying in all the best ways.

Take, for instance, a track like "Larkspur." It starts with a kind of inscrutable yet intriguing lyric -- "Always a Larkspur, no rest for my heart" -- over a simple, drone-rooted guitar figure that adds a sense of quiet resignation to the melody. But as it is building, the tension snaps when Andrews suddenly stops it to repeat "Something got a hold of me, baby" over and over until it seems an almost biblical warning. Then he drops his composure, and whatever it is that's got a hold of him starts to eat him alive. He flails. He grimaces. He rips off feedback solos that would make Thurston Moore stand up and golf clap. Then he takes a few minutes to catch his breath, trying to keep his modesty while making peace with his larynx. It's the best kind of live-set theater -- Andrews is in total control of his physicality onstage, and it makes the transaction between him and his audience seem fraught with unanticipated intimacy.

It's not all merciless emoting on his behalf, however. Henning Dietz is a powerful drummer who turns simple accents into rivets that hold the song together, and the band's improbably named bassist, Sophia Burn, has an alluring severity to her playing that makes the song feel as thick as the lyrics suggest. And Andrews is just as powerful in the empty spaces. His quiet turn on "The Tide That Left and Never Came Back" was a redemptive bit of tenderness. When he sings "Don't fall into all those sad stories you write, your voice is so pretty when it gets caught in the right rhyme," you wonder if he's reassuring himself of something. If he isn't, then it's a line someone should really say back to him one day.

-- August Brown - LA Times


A singer's fragility is one of the trickier things for a band to make interesting. The Brit-rock canon is full of excellent sad-sack mopers, but just underneath Morrissey or Robert Smith's misery is usually a touch of camp, cocky snarl or starry romanticism that suggests they're going to make it out of the bar OK at the end of the night. You have to find different shades within your black moods and make something new from them.

Finn Andrews, the striking frontman of the Veils, has a streak of lovelorn bleakness as deep as the night is long. At Spaceland on Wednesday night, the U.K.-via-New Zealand quartet did something I'm not sure I'll see again in rock music today -- they really, truly frightened me.

Their set was on a constant knife's edge between Andrews' vibrato-for-days vocals and relentlessly creative guitar playing, and the sense that when he sings a line like "There's a bulls'-blooded fountain in the pit of a moan" (from the fantastic noise blast "Jesus for the Jugular"), he might actually have seen such a thing on the walk from the club parking lot. His Flannery O'Connor-style creepy preacher hat, and an unshaven, alabaster complexion that suggests he lives off a varied diet of scotches, only accented the band's sense of gnawing doom -- though it was leavened with melodic sweetness and a lovely ear for arrangement detail.

Now, I'm a total sucker for this sort of thing. I have no idea if Andrews, after a show, is still a version of his onstage personality, or if he cracks a six-pack with the boys and plays Wii tennis. But as far as his set last night went, it was probably the most moving, unsettling and unexpectedly haunting thing I've seen in rock music this year.

The thing that caught me off-guard about the Veils live is that, on record, they come from a long line of bands up to something similar. They were obviously raised on the good stuff -- the Smiths, Pulp, Scott Walker -- but going into their set, I wasn't sure if there was still blood to be squeezed from those stones. A quick pass through "Nux Vomica" and the recent "Sun Gangs" proves the Veils have obvious debts to bands with big tenors and dense verses. But whatever that weird, implacable thing is in a singer that makes you just have to look at them, Andrews is soaked in it. It takes an otherwise evocative song and makes it terrifying in all the best ways.

Take, for instance, a track like "Larkspur." It starts with a kind of inscrutable yet intriguing lyric -- "Always a Larkspur, no rest for my heart" -- over a simple, drone-rooted guitar figure that adds a sense of quiet resignation to the melody. But as it is building, the tension snaps when Andrews suddenly stops it to repeat "Something got a hold of me, baby" over and over until it seems an almost biblical warning. Then he drops his composure, and whatever it is that's got a hold of him starts to eat him alive. He flails. He grimaces. He rips off feedback solos that would make Thurston Moore stand up and golf clap. Then he takes a few minutes to catch his breath, trying to keep his modesty while making peace with his larynx. It's the best kind of live-set theater -- Andrews is in total control of his physicality onstage, and it makes the transaction between him and his audience seem fraught with unanticipated intimacy.

It's not all merciless emoting on his behalf, however. Henning Dietz is a powerful drummer who turns simple accents into rivets that hold the song together, and the band's improbably named bassist, Sophia Burn, has an alluring severity to her playing that makes the song feel as thick as the lyrics suggest. And Andrews is just as powerful in the empty spaces. His quiet turn on "The Tide That Left and Never Came Back" was a redemptive bit of tenderness. When he sings "Don't fall into all those sad stories you write, your voice is so pretty when it gets caught in the right rhyme," you wonder if he's reassuring himself of something. If he isn't, then it's a line someone should really say back to him one day.

-- August Brown - LA Times


'Finn Andrews and co. were greeted with uproarious applause from the clearly ecstatic audience. Though admittedly unversed in the track listing of The Veils‘ latest release, I can assure you that their set kicked legitimate ass.

Andrews puts on a chilling performance, to say in the very least. His steady and delicate warble is melancholy embodied. The ungrinning, but clearly gracious front man and his band were met with explosive applause at the end of every song. Bassist Sophia Burn even broke down and flashed a crooked grin after being egged on by an overenthusiastic member in the audience to “Smile!” Drummer Henning Dietz was a spectacle to behold as he wreaked havoc on his kit for the entire 45 minutes of their set- his very theatrical show of percussion really almost stole the show for me.

It appeared that midway through the set, Andrews injured his foot after ending a number by violently stomping at his colorful assortment of floor pedals. Despite the minor setback, a brief sit down was all it took for the thin front man to get back on his feet and give the crowd what it wanted.

For the encore, Andrews announced that he would play “One song… and then maybe another. And then maybe another one after that.” Though the band cut it at two songs, it was clear to see that the audience had had its fill. “Come back again soon!” called a member of the audience from the left side of the stage. Rest assured, The Veils will have a healthy arsenal of fans raring to see them again in the near future.' - KEXP blog


'Finn Andrews and co. were greeted with uproarious applause from the clearly ecstatic audience. Though admittedly unversed in the track listing of The Veils‘ latest release, I can assure you that their set kicked legitimate ass.

Andrews puts on a chilling performance, to say in the very least. His steady and delicate warble is melancholy embodied. The ungrinning, but clearly gracious front man and his band were met with explosive applause at the end of every song. Bassist Sophia Burn even broke down and flashed a crooked grin after being egged on by an overenthusiastic member in the audience to “Smile!” Drummer Henning Dietz was a spectacle to behold as he wreaked havoc on his kit for the entire 45 minutes of their set- his very theatrical show of percussion really almost stole the show for me.

It appeared that midway through the set, Andrews injured his foot after ending a number by violently stomping at his colorful assortment of floor pedals. Despite the minor setback, a brief sit down was all it took for the thin front man to get back on his feet and give the crowd what it wanted.

For the encore, Andrews announced that he would play “One song… and then maybe another. And then maybe another one after that.” Though the band cut it at two songs, it was clear to see that the audience had had its fill. “Come back again soon!” called a member of the audience from the left side of the stage. Rest assured, The Veils will have a healthy arsenal of fans raring to see them again in the near future.' - KEXP blog


'Gracing the stage in a crisp, open-collar white shirt peeking out from under a buttoned-up charcoal blazer, all topped off with a wide brimmed Trilby, Finn Andrews is the very height of Dapper Band fashion. (And you know you’re dealing with a dapper band when the lead singer thanks a couple of the audience members for ironing his shirt.) Yet it's bassist Sophia Burn who cordially endures endless catcalls even as her sweat-soaked hair cascades down in front of her face while she pounds on her vintage P-bass.

As for the performance, Andrews instantly immerses himself into his music — his face straining as he unwinds the long syllables of Nux Vomica’s “Not Yet,” looking almost as if on the verge of a breakdown all desperate and sweating only a few lines into the song. “The Letter” takes the band into well-crafted Britpop territory — though with a drum groove that rivals Scott Devendorf’s beats for The National. Andrews gets behind the piano for a pair of whimsical tunes, including “The House She Lived In,” where his clever wordplay and the lilting rhythms are closer to Rufus Wainwright than anything from across the pond.

While Andrews is entirely captivating, his onstage state of musical possession seems less like Nick Cave — except maybe when he’s brutalizing his guitar on “Jesus for the Jugular” or stretching out on the gothic blues of “Larkspur” — and more like a finely balanced mixture of at least seven or eight singers from whom he draws at will as each song dictates. But the subtleties of Andrews’ delivery are most obvious when he comes out alone for an encore of tunes from the band's 2004 debut — in particular “The Tide That Left and Never Came Back” — where the songs creak and breathe in the exposed fragility of his voice.

The full band’s return for a bashed-out take on Nux Vomica's title track is the perfect way to seal the deal on the Veils’ penchant for living up to the hype.' - Eye Weekly


'Gracing the stage in a crisp, open-collar white shirt peeking out from under a buttoned-up charcoal blazer, all topped off with a wide brimmed Trilby, Finn Andrews is the very height of Dapper Band fashion. (And you know you’re dealing with a dapper band when the lead singer thanks a couple of the audience members for ironing his shirt.) Yet it's bassist Sophia Burn who cordially endures endless catcalls even as her sweat-soaked hair cascades down in front of her face while she pounds on her vintage P-bass.

As for the performance, Andrews instantly immerses himself into his music — his face straining as he unwinds the long syllables of Nux Vomica’s “Not Yet,” looking almost as if on the verge of a breakdown all desperate and sweating only a few lines into the song. “The Letter” takes the band into well-crafted Britpop territory — though with a drum groove that rivals Scott Devendorf’s beats for The National. Andrews gets behind the piano for a pair of whimsical tunes, including “The House She Lived In,” where his clever wordplay and the lilting rhythms are closer to Rufus Wainwright than anything from across the pond.

While Andrews is entirely captivating, his onstage state of musical possession seems less like Nick Cave — except maybe when he’s brutalizing his guitar on “Jesus for the Jugular” or stretching out on the gothic blues of “Larkspur” — and more like a finely balanced mixture of at least seven or eight singers from whom he draws at will as each song dictates. But the subtleties of Andrews’ delivery are most obvious when he comes out alone for an encore of tunes from the band's 2004 debut — in particular “The Tide That Left and Never Came Back” — where the songs creak and breathe in the exposed fragility of his voice.

The full band’s return for a bashed-out take on Nux Vomica's title track is the perfect way to seal the deal on the Veils’ penchant for living up to the hype.' - Eye Weekly


'I was stood at the crowd for The Veils headline show at the Scala on the first wet Monday evening of winter. The 300 or so people in that room were not there to see the future of music (and I’m not to say this wonderful band won’t be that), they weren’t there to prove something to themselves about their style and taste. No, they were there to hear the songs and see the sights of a band committed to making a beautiful heartbreaking racket. A band that everyone in that room was a little bit in love with. Maybe they’d have a sing along, maybe they’d have a cry, maybe they’d think about someone they hadn’t seen for a while and they really should call, or maybe they’d think about someone they hadn’t seen for a long time and they couldn’t call anymore. That’s why I went, and I did all those things.

Sure parts of the gig weren’t slick and it wasn’t a “perfect show”. At times lead singer Finn Andrews seems so tortured by his own music that it becomes an uncomfortable experience to watch. Sometimes I felt like saying, you know, come on buddy it really can’t be that bad. At other times the momentum that a songs built was dissipated by a too lengthy guitar change, or discussion over set lists, when the truth is one or two slick rock and roll segues could have pushed the audience to higher planes. But you know what, who gives a flying monkey horse! No one else was thinking these things , they were just thinking, “Gosh I love these songs, I love this gentleman’s voice” and maybe a couple of boys were thinking “Man, the sound the guitar player is making is bloody awesome, is that a vintage Gibson I wonder?” and that’s ok. Hey maybe even some of the girls were thinking “Is that Finn single, maybe if I buy him a glass of wine it’s me he’ll be writing about this time next year?” but that’s ok too.

The truth about it all is that if you’re a fan of the Veils albums, (and to my mind you really should be) then you would have loved this show. It wasn’t at the edge of the zeitgeist, it wasn’t the perfect expression of 21st century guitar music. No, it was 4 people making a beautiful racket and making the world a better place for it. So let the rest of the world go eat itself, find bands you love, hold them close, keep them close, trust them, and hopefully they’ll reward your heart and ears in a way The Veils did for me on Monday night.' - Rockfeedback


'I was stood at the crowd for The Veils headline show at the Scala on the first wet Monday evening of winter. The 300 or so people in that room were not there to see the future of music (and I’m not to say this wonderful band won’t be that), they weren’t there to prove something to themselves about their style and taste. No, they were there to hear the songs and see the sights of a band committed to making a beautiful heartbreaking racket. A band that everyone in that room was a little bit in love with. Maybe they’d have a sing along, maybe they’d have a cry, maybe they’d think about someone they hadn’t seen for a while and they really should call, or maybe they’d think about someone they hadn’t seen for a long time and they couldn’t call anymore. That’s why I went, and I did all those things.

Sure parts of the gig weren’t slick and it wasn’t a “perfect show”. At times lead singer Finn Andrews seems so tortured by his own music that it becomes an uncomfortable experience to watch. Sometimes I felt like saying, you know, come on buddy it really can’t be that bad. At other times the momentum that a songs built was dissipated by a too lengthy guitar change, or discussion over set lists, when the truth is one or two slick rock and roll segues could have pushed the audience to higher planes. But you know what, who gives a flying monkey horse! No one else was thinking these things , they were just thinking, “Gosh I love these songs, I love this gentleman’s voice” and maybe a couple of boys were thinking “Man, the sound the guitar player is making is bloody awesome, is that a vintage Gibson I wonder?” and that’s ok. Hey maybe even some of the girls were thinking “Is that Finn single, maybe if I buy him a glass of wine it’s me he’ll be writing about this time next year?” but that’s ok too.

The truth about it all is that if you’re a fan of the Veils albums, (and to my mind you really should be) then you would have loved this show. It wasn’t at the edge of the zeitgeist, it wasn’t the perfect expression of 21st century guitar music. No, it was 4 people making a beautiful racket and making the world a better place for it. So let the rest of the world go eat itself, find bands you love, hold them close, keep them close, trust them, and hopefully they’ll reward your heart and ears in a way The Veils did for me on Monday night.' - Rockfeedback


'There's the “if it's not broke, don't fix it” bands and there's the innovators. But let's face it, everyone gets bored of the bands in the first camp pretty fast, and nobody wants to fund the bands in the second camp during an economic crisis because, let's face it, most of them just screw it up.

The Veils fit firmly into a third camp. The best camp. The camp where all the musical genii belong, constantly finding new inspiration that doesn't change them completely but just the right amount. The kind of band whose back catalogue reads like a cohesive and compelling story. The Veils' tale has been a gripping one thus far, but it's just gotten even better.

It's incomprehensible to anyone who listened to either of The Veils’ first two albums that the band aren't considered a bigger deal. They were great records, with great songs, stunning vocals and a brilliant sense of imagination.

Now, The Veils haven't reinvented themselves. But their sound seems to have grown like Alice in Wonderland when she eats the cake that makes her get bigger. And with Sun Gangs it’s as if they've finished the whole cake and the house burst, bricks and mortar exploding through the sky like fireworks.

The most frightening example is 'Killed By The Boom', which sees Finn Andews babbling like a madman about a man who “wasn't a drug dealer / no, he was a DANCER”. It's definitely a song they couldn't play live without everyone in the venue taking a biiiiig step backwards.

There's more of a harsh, bluesy feel to this record than their previous output. Hardly any of the twinkly prettiness of songs like 'The Tide That Left And Never Came Back' and 'The Leavers Dance'. We can’t see back-to-back episodes of One Tree Hill being named after any tracks from this album, put it that way.

Where they do concede to the odd bit of prettiness, it’s either too slow or otherwise too obtuse for teen TV. This is perhaps intentional and surely worthy of a few "cool" points, but on some such tracks, even the band start to sound a little bored with what they’re doing.

'Sit Down By The Fire' is the most prime time friendly tune they offer, and it's pretty blimmin’ good. Vibrant, melodic and lovely like a rich old bluesy folk song, Finn’s startling vocals coating it like the layer of solid chocolate that M&S put around their Extremely Chocolately swiss roll. Amazing.

Yes, the album has its let downs (just skip straight past 'The House She Lived In' – it’s for the best). But the unarguable might of songs like 'Three Sisters', 'The Letter' and a good few other gems make this record the most compelling chapter in The Veils story yet.' - Drowned In Sound


'Veils frontman Finn Andrews doesn't breath the same air as the rest of us. Relationship troubles become "knives sharp, put through the heart ... I like them there that way". He casually drips lines like "Polishing the dolphin, you've never seen a beast so bright".

Eyebrow-raising in print, they sound gripping here because of Andrews' glorious dagger-through-honey vocals, which combine with occasional strings and his band's raw passion to produce a corking debut. The Tide That Left and Never Came Back could have fitted snugly on to the Smiths' masterpiece, The Queen is Dead. The hushed, reverential The Valleys of New Orleans echoes Nick Cave, but Andrews' sheer manic fervour ensures that tracks such as the combustible More Heat Than Light defies comparison. Essential for anyone who likes their music to stand metaphorically on a mountain and rage at distant stars.' - The Guardian


'There's the “if it's not broke, don't fix it” bands and there's the innovators. But let's face it, everyone gets bored of the bands in the first camp pretty fast, and nobody wants to fund the bands in the second camp during an economic crisis because, let's face it, most of them just screw it up.

The Veils fit firmly into a third camp. The best camp. The camp where all the musical genii belong, constantly finding new inspiration that doesn't change them completely but just the right amount. The kind of band whose back catalogue reads like a cohesive and compelling story. The Veils' tale has been a gripping one thus far, but it's just gotten even better.

It's incomprehensible to anyone who listened to either of The Veils’ first two albums that the band aren't considered a bigger deal. They were great records, with great songs, stunning vocals and a brilliant sense of imagination.

Now, The Veils haven't reinvented themselves. But their sound seems to have grown like Alice in Wonderland when she eats the cake that makes her get bigger. And with Sun Gangs it’s as if they've finished the whole cake and the house burst, bricks and mortar exploding through the sky like fireworks.

The most frightening example is 'Killed By The Boom', which sees Finn Andews babbling like a madman about a man who “wasn't a drug dealer / no, he was a DANCER”. It's definitely a song they couldn't play live without everyone in the venue taking a biiiiig step backwards.

There's more of a harsh, bluesy feel to this record than their previous output. Hardly any of the twinkly prettiness of songs like 'The Tide That Left And Never Came Back' and 'The Leavers Dance'. We can’t see back-to-back episodes of One Tree Hill being named after any tracks from this album, put it that way.

Where they do concede to the odd bit of prettiness, it’s either too slow or otherwise too obtuse for teen TV. This is perhaps intentional and surely worthy of a few "cool" points, but on some such tracks, even the band start to sound a little bored with what they’re doing.

'Sit Down By The Fire' is the most prime time friendly tune they offer, and it's pretty blimmin’ good. Vibrant, melodic and lovely like a rich old bluesy folk song, Finn’s startling vocals coating it like the layer of solid chocolate that M&S put around their Extremely Chocolately swiss roll. Amazing.

Yes, the album has its let downs (just skip straight past 'The House She Lived In' – it’s for the best). But the unarguable might of songs like 'Three Sisters', 'The Letter' and a good few other gems make this record the most compelling chapter in The Veils story yet.' - Drowned In Sound


Discography

-SUN GANGS (2009)
Singles: 'The Letter' 'The House She Lived In'.

-NUX VOMICA (2006)
Singles: 'Advice for Young Mothers To Be' 'One Night On Earth'.

-THE RUNAWAY FOUND (2004)
Singles: 'More Heat Than Light', 'The Tide That Left & Never Came Back', 'Lavinia', 'Guiding Light'.

All singles received play on radio worldwide, including the following stations:

Radio One
Radio 2
BBC 6 Music
Virgin Radio
XFM
KEXP-FM
KPFA-FM
KXLU-FM
WLUW
WFDQ

The records also received strong radio play across Europe, particularly in The Netherlands, Italy, Belgium and France - and in New Zealand and Australia on bFM, JJJ and KiwiFM.

The video for 'The Letter' was played on MTV throughout Europe, particularly in the Netherlands and Italy, as well as on music television in the UK, New Zealand, Australia and the United States.

The Veils online presence consists of facebook, lastfm and myspace pages, which can be viewed here:

http://www.facebook.com/pages/VEILS/53351827139

http://www.myspace.com/theveils

http://www.theveils.com/

Photos

Bio

In 2004, Finn Andrews was 21. The Runaway Found had just come out, critics were going nuts for it, and stardom looked imminent. He ran away to New Zealand, leaving a trail of confused fans and disappointed executives.

In 2006, The Veils released Nux Vomica, after Finn had reformed the band with old school friends and returned to London. The Veils toured Nux relentlessly, finding out that the record they made in Los Angeles as a howl into an abyss found plenty of people willing to howl back.

The band moved to Oklahoma City for three months and saw some very strange things. They found out that not everybody knows what country Paris is in, and that Segways can be more dangerous than they look.

In 2008, The Veils made a third record. It's called Sun Gangs. It’s a mixture of prayers and record keeping. It’s a horoscope and a magnifying glass. Not all the songs sound the same.

Sit down By The Fire is about watching something collapse, and it being quite pretty to look at. Killed By The Boom is about Omar Little. It Hits Deep is about being a man, probably in a bar alone, perhaps at a tropical island resort, as the light gets dim and the streets get empty. Larkspur is about everything.

When the album was written, George Bush and Tony Blair were still holding hands and smiling. When it was being recorded, the foundations of the economy were secretly crumbling. While The Veils were playing the songs across America, all the banks collapsed. The Veils don’t have any money anyway, so they carried on playing shows. While it was being mixed, Barack Obama was elected president, and it seemed like maybe the world, which had looked to be spinning the wrong way, slowed, in preparation to reverse.

In the studio, the thing that mostly happens is the assistant asks the producer ‘Jesus. What are you using to get that effect on Finn’s voice?’ and the producer (in Sun Gangs case, Graham Sutton) says ‘nothing. Thats what he sings like.’

It actually is what he sings like, and the Veils are happy to prove it to you on a stage. They like to tour. They like buses, and vans. They like festivals, clubs with black walls, converted churches and rooms with curtains over the stage. They have played a lot of shows, and the shows are quite something to see. Someone said it sounded like a flock of swans making love to a buzzsaw.