Jet - Exclusive First UK Interview and Photos

Andrew Future - 19 March 2003

Fresh out of Melbourne, Jet snap together the sumptuous melodies of The Beatles with the rock 'n' roll threads laid down by AC/DC and the Stones. Believe the hype, they are everything you want them to be.

Live at the London Barfly - Friday 7 March

Surviving the pressure of the flight from their native Melbourne, and carrying the weight of their hype as 'this year's Vines', Jet are four hairy rockers from Oz who touched down to a hysteric Friday night party for their semi-secret London debut. The band take time to mock the A-list industry nature of the whole affair asking how many people actually paid, and dismissing the heckling proclamation of 'I'm sooo underwhelemed!' with the simple Aussie retort of 'Well, faack off then, mate!' And so it goes...

Named after the 1973 Paul McCartney song, Jet sound like all the good things you could ever want to hear. They start with 'Move On' - performed by the duo of Chris Sester and his younger brother Nick, it's the kind of epic affair you'd expect to see halfway through a headline festival set, tonguing up the tiny crowd for the bombast of Stooge bruised Iggy and 'Back In Black' era AC/DC domineering that's to follow.

As Mark Wilson (bass) and Cameron Muncey (one of Jet's three interchangeable frontmen) join up, they launch with 'Get Me Outta Here'. Following early track 'Rollover DJ' with the bluesy swirl of 'Last Chance' it's clear that Jet not only meld the style-mag cool of the Von Bondies with the rock and roll pardee-class of the Datsuns, but they also have some fine and mighty songs too. Mop-haired and bearded in denim, the anthemic harmonics of 'Radio' reminisce times when Oasis weren't all celebrity wives and broken teeth. You can see a 'Don't Look Back In Anger' brewing in their somewhere.

Like The Strokes, Jet don't play anything you can't hum, but with the trio of vocalists and a collection of finely crafted, swooning ballads in with all the early Stones rockery, they have a variation to their sound and a timeless grasp of melody that really lifts them above the evergrowing crop of 'new rock revolutionaries'. They take the overwhelming response they receive well in their stride, and end with a euphoric cover of Elvis' 'That's Alright Mamma'. They have a way to go, but the means have never been so simple.