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As yet another hotly tipped Australian band you could
be fooled into believing that The Sleepy Jackson is
just another half-cocked bunch of AC/DC fetishists that
can throw a few hissy fits or limply cover a hip-hop
song or two and could maybe possibly hopefully one day
be the new face of rock and roll. Rest assured then
that this bunch are poles apart from any of that other
lot. The Sleepy Jackson have the feeling of pedigree,
homeland heroes such as Radio Birdman, Nick Cave
or The Go-Betweens.
Anyone with a wider eye on the music world would have
heard the oh-so-good things being said about The Sleepy
Jackson months ago. The band already have homegrown
critical acclaim falling from their back pockets due
to a handful of EPs and singles, as well as an increasing
number of (big-name?) support slots tugging at their
shirtsleeves too.
The Sleepy Jackson is a four-piece band from Perth in
WA. The current incarnation is the third to bear the
name in their five-year history and the line-up includes
guitarist/vocalist Luke Steele, Malcolm Clark on drums,
Justin Borford on vocals/guitar and Rod Aravena on bass.
They have attracted handles as diverse as ‘The Beatles
at their beardiest’, country rockers, a power pop delight
or avant-garde experimentalists. Clearly this is a band
happy with their rabid eclecticism. Support slots with
BRMC, Doves, and Supergrass amongst
others have spread their name across their vast homeland
and now the UK has pricked up its ears to their wonder.
A taster plate, the self-titled The Sleepy Jackson EP
is out next week on Virgin in the UK and they have shows
beginning in London that will surely keep them busy
throughout February. Your love affair and mine starts
here…
On occasions like this when a band has column inches
piling up in front of them but no releases readily available
for interested parties to learn and love, so much actually
depends on whether they can cut it. Whether those inches
are deserved. Whether your cash should be spent. Whether
it is just for now or is forever.
An expectant sold-out crowd, mixing ‘in the knows’ and
‘genuine music fans’, let their babble drop silent when
whispering Beach Boys nursery rhymes spread through
the air. On stage, eyes shut and hands clasped for prayer,
were the same bunch of guys who not a moment earlier
had been setting up the mics. Nothing high and mighty
from this four, just a Ramones harking call of 1,2,3,4
and off they went.
The first song couldn’t have been better chosen to grab
our attention. It sounded like something The Hives would
die for, a rubbery bomb of itchy riffs with a steady
build that then surprisingly stumbled into the next.
I could hear The Replacements and Husker Du,
Pere Ubu and The Sonics; sounds so catchy
and familiar that I am left wondering if these were
sneaky cover versions. It didn’t seem possible that
an bunch as unknown as these disparate looking fellows
could be super charging The Posies or stripping away
Black Flag like their sound seemed to be.
The vacuum left by the implosion of the previous track
slowly filled with a rhythmic push of drumming. Malc’s
winding arms and Justin’s scarily concentrated twitching
built up and it was ‘Pack Of Nails’ that fell out of
the speakers. This is The Sleepy Jackson at their most
angular, full of sounds and calls that can only be felt
as intended in a truly live state. On record their sound
is mellower, the surprises sneak up slower but in the
flesh they are so totally into their performance that
you too feel absolutely energized with them. Other tracks
such as the waltzing with hobnails ‘Good Dancers’ and
Aussie mini-hit ‘Miniskirt’, both of which feature on
the upcoming UK EP, are greeted by a fair sized down-under
contingent with cheers that seem to reluctantly say,
‘Damn it! You have been discovered but if we have to
share you then at least let’s not forget that we heard
it first!’
The Sleepy Jackson is a band that you just won’t want
to share with everyone, not immediately. The love and
discovery that you will feel after listening should
be carefully introduced to others, they often won’t
understand. How can you expect people to understand
the feelings you will develop for the hammering metal
riffs, drunken Cajun dances or softly punchy lyricism?
Fall for The Sleepy Jackson and know that your life
will be improved…
SID for Crud Magazine 2003©
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