Mystery Jets
Kapil Trivedi, Blaine and Henry Harrison, Kai Fish. Erm, William Rees. Just one look at those names suggests some suspicious goings-on.
Mystery Jets. A bunch of inspired weirdoes, then. We first encountered them amidst the charms of the North London toilet-circuit – amid one Hope & Anchor in Islington, in fact. We attended the performance with fellow rockfeedback-ite and space-pilot producer Gordon Raphael, following Raphael’s tip that a demo he’d received from said-act was ‘trippy’. He was an instant fan. Who’s to refuse?
We entered the basement venue, and the packed, steaming room was treated to a wild cacophony of Yes-evoking indie-grace grandeur. Of course, rockfeedback was terrified, and Gordon was loving it; a common occurrence. The lead-singer’s Dad was playing guitar. We distinctly noted the harmonies being massively ‘loose’ (diplomacy in force here, children). The songs didn’t really resemble anything called ‘songs’.
Then, the cause for an early departure – a female accomplice of our loving Raphael had a glass of ice-cold water flung in her face from the direction of the stage.
‘THAT’S IT!’ she bellowed during the racket. ‘I’VE HAD ENOUGH!’
She ran out the room, and GR and rockfeedback followed like lost boys.
That night, we vowed we wouldn’t let prog back into our lives (save for Gordon).
But, lo and behold, over two years later, autumn 2004, we’re in freezing Brighton by the sea, waiting for a performance from Bloc Party (also a band we’d seen in the very early days in that dinky, dingy Hope & Anchor), and a ghost from our past greets us onstage. A performance-space stuffed to the rafters with all manner of cobbled-together ‘percussion’ parts, retro keyboards, steely stares and bad pilot jackets is mustering the sort of whirlwind of noise fit for the heights of Vesuvius.
We were in love.
With Mystery Jets.
Bollocks.
We can’t like them.
How can we like them?
It’s a lesson. We were wrong. They were right.
Mystery Jets, categorically, are presently the UK’s most important new band, and you’ll soon see why. Songs of wistful escape (‘On My Feet’), arrangements of challenging, dizzying, mesmerising and beauteous scope (‘Zoo Time’), and playing of a stature that no-one is presently bandying around (try and fathom the wonderment of their future anthem masterpiece, ‘Agnes’ – go on, we dare yer). If they don’t become bigger than your wildest dreams in the next eighteen months, then something in the solar system has made a royal, cosmic f**k-up. Behold, five captains of a ship that’ll sail us all to a better place. It’s going to be one intense, wonderful journey.
As above, a peculiar souvenir the band insisted on giving away to Bloc Party fans following their recent UK tour with the blistering noise-pop foursome. It\'s a piece of newspaper with strange images and text. Of course.
OFFICIAL WEBSITE: A slightly ‘lo-fi’ effort from the ‘Jets, but they sincerely promise the world that the best is yet to come.
TRANSGRESSIVE RECORDS: Erm, can anyone smell the corruption? Transgressive, home to The Subways’ debut, is releasing the Mystery Jets’ first single – ‘Zoo Time’ / ‘Lizzy’s Lion’ – in Feb ’05. And, erm, rockfeedback kinda co-runs it.
NEWS-STORY - THE BASEMENT CLUB: the band’s next appearance in the UK capital is at rockfeedback’s final Basement Club of 2004; tickets are already almost gone. Get ordering now.
MP3 - \'ON MY FEET\': see what the fuss is about; a certain music-weekly\'s present download of the week, no less. Download and cherish.