The Full Interview with If you haven’t picked up Issue 4 of Under the Radar yet, (presuming you’re not reading this five years after it was originally on newsstands), then what are you doing just sitting here reading this? Rush out to your local indie record store or bookstore immediately and buy a copy! Once you do pick up the issue, turn to page 20 to read our short article on Australia’s The Sleepy Jackson in our Artists to Watch special section. After you’ve done that you can read the full interview below with Sleepy Jackson main man Luke Steele that our London correspondent Jumana Farouky did, read on: |
 |
Jumana Farouky (J): You guys are touring right now, right?
Luke Steele (L): Yeah, we’ve just been in Melbourne, just got
in a second ago. Finished eating our spaghetti bolognase, getting ready
for bed. It’s 9 pm now, and we’ve been in the car all day.
We’re supporting Silverchair, I think we’ve got another
7 shows over here.
J: Are you touring with mini-album?
L: Over here [in Australia] it’s actually an EP. It’s a mini-album in the US and UK. The proper album’s due in a few months, in June. Out of this tour I think we’ll play to over 70,000 people, which is a good introduction.
J: And how’s the tour going?
L: Pretty good, I think. Sometimes, when we do a country bit, Kris Kristofferson kind of stuff, there’s a break in the vocals and people cheer. It’s good when people hear something that really hits them, and there’s a lot of that in between our songs. It’s hard to gauge, though. A lot of it’s underage kids, so you can’t tell whether they like the music or if they’ve just had too much wine. I think it’s generally that we’re doing well.
J: It’s strange you’re supporting Silverchair, you’ve got a really different sound.
L: I’m getting a bit more mellow these days. I think I’m
just getting more content. I was thinking about this in the car today,
getting content with the natural things of living, y’know? I’ve
been working on some lines, some more poppy tunes, more acoustic, connected
to spirituality. I just found I’ve really gone back to the roots
a bit more, that whole Will Oldman kind of thing, rootsy, close to
the heart. The music’s just swimming around and it’s the
kind that gets into people’s hearts as opposed to
just having it thrown at them.
J: From what I know about you, you used to be filled with angst, really wild.
L: Before, I was
just trying to live that double-sided trouble-making rock star phase
when it was getting popular. I was getting
with the fashion too much. But I’ve now escaped into a place of refuge,
my own personal world. I got into spirituality. I found out that every
person you meet, every situation you’re in, becomes your teacher.
Since I lost my mobile phone, I think my life has been harmonious.
Before, we’d be doing Australian tours and I’d had a night
with a girl the last time, I might text her and try to catch up. When
you don’t have a phone, if it’s meant to happen, she might
come and find you. Fate, which can’t be distorted or skewed or
constipated by a mobile phone. I went to art school for 3 1/2 years,
but I found out that graphic designer work is pretty bland. Three years
later I’m getting calls from people in my class who want to go
drinking, but it’s just another thing to send your
mind into claustrophobia.
J: So how did the band start?
L: Me and my brother,
we’ve been playing together since we
were 15. Our father runs a music club, a Blues club in Perth.
J: What’s it called?
 |
L: The Perth Blues Club. It’s been going for the last 12 years -- since I was about 10 -- and, basically, I just started backing him, playing in jug bands. We started with Blues and pop and went through an array of member changes, and now we’re here. It’s been pretty hard. We started off doing one set of original songs and then two or three hours of big beats and big pop, in these country pubs with chicken wire and people throwing bottles. One day this semi-handsome dude came up to us and bought us a shot of bourbon, he said, ‘What you need to do is lose your drummer, get your guitarist to lose some weight, and get another singer.’ Every show, someone would come up and tell us what we needed to do. That’s the blessing of where we are now, since the start we’ve been through so many line-ups. But there was always someone telling us what was best for us. J: How is that different from what you imagined? L: I suppose you never know. If someone could’ve looked into the future and told me I was going to be playing on New Year’s Eve to 8 red necks and 6 drunk girls who’d just spent the day riding horses, I’d have been, like, I’m not going to do it. But that’s the fascinating thing with playing music: it’s got this real mystic, where I can go. It’s progressively getting easier and easier. |
J: So is that what you mean about you becoming more content?
L: Yeah, I mean,
when you’re young you’ve got that hunger.
That’s what the whole trashing the stage was about. I would think,
what if there are people here who are never going to be here again?
And I’ve always been into theater and drama, so I always wanted
to show them a grand explosion that will just blow their heads off.
Something they’ll never forget. I think it transcended the band
onto this different level. At one show, I ripped all the strings off
my guitar, ripped my hands up, they were all red. I had this white
Rickenbacker -- it looked beautiful on stage -- all covered in blood.
That was my whole idea of the avant-garde rock artist. Now I realize
it just comes to you in time. It’s like riding on
the train, going through different stations, of all different
colors.
J: The press can’t resist comparing you to the other
Down Under bands. Do you consider yourselves the anti-Vines,
the anti-Datsuns?
L: I don’t know. I don’t listen to any of those bands;
I’m more into Brian Wilson, Kings of Convenience, Lou Reed -
that whole vision to make music that’s grand music that people
can pray to. We’re a long way from that, because to get to that
level you’ve got to go through every style and religion and compose
music that can transpose to different lifestyles. You might hear a
song written about polar bears in the snow drinking milkshakes, know
what I mean? But you can transpose that to anyone’s life. We’re
making pop music for film-scapes -- it’s this alternate, life-changing
experience. I think that’s our vision, as opposed
to reliving the past of garage rock.
J: Do you feel you’re competing with those other bands?
L: Well, I suppose,
in a way. You get a bit ‘anti’ when
there’s all this press about a band being so genius when it’s
just so daft. But as far as competing, not any more. We’re
too busy now.
J: Your idea of creating transcendent music – that’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself. Do you really think music can change lives?
L: Easily. Today
I was thinking that -- you’ll probably think
this is daft – but I had this cool idea about how the US are
throwing leaflets in Iraq telling people to give themselves up. I think
they should just drop portable CD-players, in bubble wrap, with Carole
King CDs in them. Then we’ll have peace.
J: So what happens after the Australian tour?
L: We get a week
off, then go to Dublin, London, Manchester, and then Europe, France,
Amsterdam. I’ve never been to the US – I’m
friends with Ben Lee and he lives in New York. Every time he comes
back he’s got all these great stories about the States.
J: How old are you, anyway?
L: 23.
J: Because on your album, you sound like an old soul. Like in a past life you were an old black man sitting on the banks of the Mississippi, playing blues.
L: Yeah? Cool.
Ever since I was twelve, because of my Dad, there have been pedal
steel players in the house, asleep
on the floor.
They’d
wake up and show you a few guitar licks. My whole life.
It was just embedded. The beats and the sweat and the dirty
carpets were just embedded
into me.
J: How long do you think you’ll be able to keep this up?
L: Hopefully a
while, but I sort of need a break. Because of all the touring, we
won’t have a proper break for at least two years.
I’m at that point where I just need a week off. I did have one
day off – I just watched TV and drank tea. People think it’s
easy, that you’re just playing in clubs and venues and that’s
all, but you need a bit of stamina to keep it going. I realize now
why international bands don’t talk when they come on stage. They’re
just too tired.
J: Your sound
is so strange, how did you find three other guys all into the same
sound as you
L: The band’s been through four or five line-up changes, I’m the only one who’s been here from the start. So I’ve been writing the songs and just got different musicians in.
J: Are they all old friends or did you put an ad out in the paper? L: They’ve
all been friends. We did the ad thing once but got this 55-year-old
drummer. J: What about the name? Who’s Jackson and why’s he sleepy? L: I did
this one interview with these French guys and they thought
it was a reference to Michael Jackson being sleepy. So I just
let them print that. But really, when I was playing in a jug
band the drummer used to fall asleep. It was quite serious,
though. We’d be about to start a set and he’d be
asleep. That’s pretty sleepy. J: The new
album, does it include anything from the EP or is it all new? L: It includes three songs from the EP – “Good Dancers,” “Sunkids” and “This Day,” which I don’t think you got in the UK. This new album’s just a cacophony of melodies. It’s sweet, some west coast, some east coast, a bit Joy Division sounding, some Flaming Lips. There’s a great track with the producer’s 8-year-old daughter. I wrote it on the piano and she sang it. It’s a real tearjerker. When you’ve just broken up with someone and you’re sitting in your room with a big bottle of whisky, that kind of song. |
 |
J: When people review your album, they’re always invoking the names of other bands, saying this track sounds like Beck, this one like Mercury Rev, whatever. Does that make you feel totally derivative or is that how you like it?
L: Well, that’s how I always talk about the songs, otherwise people don’t get it. If you say it’s got high melodic strings with a 4/4 beat, people don’t understand. It’s better to say it’s a mix between Brian Wilson and Joy Division. When it comes down to it, this is a Sleepy Jackson record, just listen to that. I guess it can set off ideas of being derivative or false images of the band as ripping off other people, but the music will come first. All that stuff I’ve never really worried about, everyone pigeonholing us. I don’t know if maybe I’ve got the wrong perception of the way… It’s just hard because you don’t know if your perception is in the wrong world to be in the terms to relate across to people. Do you know what I mean? You think you’re doing really good and…
J: It turns out people don’t see it that way. It must be difficult to give your vision over to producers, then.
L: It’s hard with different producers. I know how to produce
but I need a producer to help compose the sound and find the sound.
The dependence becomes too great and then each note that comes out
of your mouth comes out of a black hole to them, y’know?
You start becoming weaker and weaker, and realize that
the devil is just
edging in on you if you give in to that dependence.
J: Do you consider the band successful yet?
L: Yeah. The best
thing about that is being able express something to a lot more people.
The music becoming more of a ministry.
Having the freedom to do art, that good old cliché.
J: What’s the worst thing?
L: Eating once every two days. Never having enough money to take
a girl out to dinner.
J: One last question – in some old articles on the band, I saw your named spelt with an o, Luoke. What’s that about?
L: That was just when I was going off the rails. It’s just an indication of how out there I was, just trying to be different, and then the band was like ‘That’s just stupid!’