In this post-modern world of ours, everything has to have its place, regardless of quality, and absolutes appear to have been abandoned. Australians The Sleepy Jackson, therefore, would doubtless be described by many as ‘experimental’, ‘avant-garde’ and ‘a refreshing slap in the face for convention’.
These adjectives may or may not be applicable. However, to these ears, the only boundary being pushed by this eight-track mini-album is the one of pointlessness. Not Crying (Just Standing In The Rain) and Lung are cases in point – both less than a minute long, both barely coherent and both utterly meaningless.
Elsewhere, when The Sleepy Jackson deign to deliver proper songs, they still seem to go out of their way to be irritating, whether it is in the needlessly high-pitched singing on Good Dancers, the nauseating children’s voices on Sunkids, or the languid, out-of-tune and frankly crap vocals of Luke Steele that pervade every track.
At a time when the Aussies are beating us Brits at cricket, rugby league and even football, it seems that they are now intent on trying to win 2003’s Most Disappointing Album Competition. They are welcome to it…