"You just don't know when you might get hit by a truck," drawls Luke Steele, presciently, on 'Miniskirt'. Well, ain't that the truth. Before their arrival in the UK, The Sleepy Jackson were hailed as the next great Australian sensation, a mind-blowing concoction of beatific harmonies, lush melodies and a dazzling host of slick psychedelic pop influences. One disastrous show at the London Garage later and they were all over, "the Manics struggling to be Sonic Youth". Built up and knocked down in the space of a month.
Quite what possessed The Sleepy Jackson to be so wilfully discordant at The Garage (to these ears, more like the Butthole Surfers ricocheting around a rehearsal room in search of a tune) is yet to be determined. But in the meantime, here's what caused all of the over-enthusiasm in the first place. An eight track mini album totalling just under twenty three minutes. Two songs under a minute long, seemingly included as a joke. And six that sound they were discovered at the end of the rainbow on a bright summer's day.
As with many supremely talented, psychedelically minded mavericks, Luke Steele has a love for mix and match, taking what would otherwise feel like totally disparate styles and influences and meshing them into a delicious whole. As you float and waltz in his company, you're teased by a parade of unlikely pairings: Mercury Rev meets ELO for 'Good Dancers'; Beck leads St Winifred's School Choir in 'Sunkids'; Smog is backed by The Beach Boys in 'Now Your Spirit Drags The Pack'; late period Beatles play bluegrass in 'Caffeine In The Morning'; The Eagles try perfect pop with 'Miniskirt'.
You imagine drugs are involved. If they're not, you want them to be. There are times during this sweet and beautiful record that The Sleepy Jackson feel like worthy successors to The Flaming Lips, clear-visioned kindred spirits who understand that being deliberately obtuse is ultimately self-defeating. And then - ! - flashback comes. That horrible gig. Them trying too hard. The band being odd and strange and atonal and "challenging" (ie awful). You feel like you want to drag Luke Steele to a current day Flaming Lips gig and shout "look! That's how it's done!" You want him to wake up.
How long did it take Wayne Coyne to learn this lesson? Oh, only the best part of a decade. Pray that the message gets through quicker this time.
