Fink - Iiuii (It Isn't Until It Is) (2LP)

Fink’s IIUII, short for It Isn’t Until It Is, lands like a quiet reckoning with a decade of songs that grew up on stage and then came home to the studio. Released in 2021 on R’COUP’D, the album revisits material from 2006 to 2016 and gives it the lived-in weight of the band that toured it night after night. Fin Greenall’s voice sits even closer to the mic than you remember, grainy and unhurried, while the trio’s chemistry does the heavy lifting. It is a retrospective that behaves like a new record, which is the neat trick here.

If you came in during the Ninja Tune years and then followed Fink into the singer songwriter lane with Biscuits for Breakfast, you will hear the whole arc. The early pieces feel leaner and more sure of themselves. Trouble’s What You’re In trades some of its scruffy charm for patience and space, the guitar pulse rounding out against a calm rhythm section. This Is The Thing keeps its hook but sheds the radio sheen, settling into a steady lope that suits the lyric. Perfect Darkness is the one that stopped me in my tracks. The original was a curtain opener, all low light mood and tension. Here it blooms slowly, the vocal riding a wider dynamic range, cymbals blooming like breath.

Looking Too Closely, the closest thing to a hit in the Fink catalog, shows why this project matters. The bones are the same, the arrangement is not. The tempo nudges down, the bass carries more melody, and the end refrain stretches into a long exhale that feels earned. Warm Shadow turns hypnotic, the guitar figure circling while the drums flicker in and out. Pilgrim still stomps, but the edges are sanded in a good way, more groove than grit. Berlin Sunrise is a deep cut that benefits from the years, the phrasing looser, the resolve clearer.

You can tell these takes were captured live in the studio, because Tim Thornton and Guy Whittaker play like people who know where every hairpin turn is. Thornton, who has long been Fink’s not so secret weapon, paints the corners with brushes and soft mallets, then snaps to a backbeat when the song needs a spine. Whittaker sits way down in the pocket, big and warm, and gives Greenall space to lean into silence. The mix keeps that intimacy intact. Guitars are close, strings buzz, fingers lift from frets, and the room air becomes part of the rhythm. It is the kind of sound that makes sense on a turntable. If you are hunting for Fink vinyl, IIUII vinyl is the one that will get repeat spins front to back.

The song choices feel like a conversation with fans. Sort of Revolution becomes less of a statement and more of a mantra, a reminder of the loop driven roots that Fink carried out of his DJ days. Perfect Darkness and Hard Believer era tracks get the spotlight they deserve, but the album also nudges you to revisit Distance and Time. That balance makes IIUII more than a greatest hits exercise. It functions like a map of how these tunes changed once they left the studio and met a room.

Context helps. Fink has always lived between worlds, a Ninja Tune alum who brought producer instincts into folk and blues forms. That is why these reworks land so well. The structures are simple, the details are meticulous, and the feel is king. Nothing here tries to outshine the originals. The point is to tell the same stories with the voice they have now. On vinyl, that approach pays off. The low end warmth, the soft transients of brushes, the breath in the vocal, all of it blooms on a good system.

If you collect Fink albums on vinyl or you want to buy Fink records online, start here and then work backward. IIUII plays like an invitation to rediscover the catalog and it stands on its own as a late night record. It also scratches that crate digger itch for people who care about pressings and playthroughs. Even if you are across the world flipping through vinyl records Australia wide, this is the kind of album you pull from the bin, read the credits, and decide to take home because it feels right in the hand. Then the needle drops, the room gets small, and the songs you thought you knew shift just enough to feel new again.