Jet. They’re Australian. To me, this does not bode well… leaving aside the Minogues and Jason Donovan for Pop Idolatry, for the rock aside from Ayre’s, I was never really into Inxs (can anyone who doesn’t have the album name a song apart from New Sensation?), Savage Garden is a red rag to my bull, and with Natalie Imbruglia I was always inclined to turn the volume down and just gaze meaningfully into her lovely green eyes. Ah, Beth from Neighbours, will you ever be mine?

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But I digress… their compatriots may not be at the apex of the rock tree but that doesn’t mean Jet don’t take a leaf, twig or whole branch off a whole load of people. Now you may decry the approach of this review. But I explain it thus: much as I may be seeing the world reflected back through a decade or so of prejudiced and selective listening, how better to communicate how they sound by trying to describe exactly who or what they do sound like? So there.

Now, track one, it’s The Hives reworking AC/DC, and fairly rewarding it is too. I like the economy of 1.52’s worth of rock and a few good “ooohs” and “yeahs” thrown in for good measure. Are You Gonna Be My Girl continues in similarly ebullient, slightly longer fashion, being Iggy Pop’s Lust for Life reincarnated as lust for a dream girl’s “big black boots / long brown hair” – you do the math(s). So far, so it’s all good. Standout single Rollover DJ reiterates a catchy, if repetitive formula for a pogoing vamp-u-like chorus, and there’s even a nice little Hammond in there at the end. Bonza!

Unfortunately, the rest of the album takes the epithet ‘Repeat and Fade’ far too literally. Things start to flag when the feet rise off distortion pedals and onto piano pedals in Look What You’ve Done and suddenly we’re in the middle of an outtake from an Abbey Road tribute album. Yes, it’s apparently Ringo on drums supporting and prefacing a hint of George’s guitar with Lennon style Imagining on piano. Except the song has all the charm and challenge of an effort by Toploader, with a chorus taken to the point of irony by repetition. Look what they’ve done, indeed. Unfortunately, Get What You Need fails to supply the necessary, being nothing but a faulty nostalgic romp into bread and butter Kinks and Status Quo do the Rolling Stones territory. In turn, the Stones do country effort of Move On demonstrates just what Jet are failing to do. Check out the abysmally trite lyrics: “it’s such a waste to always look behind you / you should be looking straight ahead.” What profundity! All this plus a camembert slide guitar, harmonica and a full-on Jagger impersonation that seems a desperate and sickly attempt to rescue the song. Speaking of desperation, next up is Radio Song, which has the provocative gall or downright stupidity (I’m thinking the latter) to repeat “This won’t be played on your radio tonight.” Woo. I’m sure the BBC are really going to be fooled by that advanced ploy of negative logic. Maybe Jet are to be admired for their candid statement: a trivial truth, putting it in the same category as most of the lyrics on the album. Putting it beyond hope, the most interesting thing about the song is a bit of guitar that happens most infrequently and is directly ripped from Major Tom’s own chordbook in Space Oddity.

Just when you’re thinking you might take the very same advice, Get Me Outta Here starts off rocking promisingly enough in Stones / early Primal Scream mode but then reveals itself to have some of the most appalling lyrics I’ve ever heard emanate from speakers. “I went down to the bank just to get me my pay / I’m gonna get me outta here.” Now, by all means write auto-biopic songs, Jet, but don’t mention banks unless you’re doing something cool like trying to rob them, and don’t say something like “I’ve got to get away from the Man” and in the next breath claim you’ll find solace in L.A. Personally, I couldn’t think of a more Man-riddled town (as it were). There’s no tale of suffering here, no blues, just some grass-is-greener attempt at teenage wanderlust. Cold Hard Bitch is the hybrid mutant spawn of The Who’s Won’t Get Fooled Again and Free’s All Right Now, though the declamation of the chorus has something going for it.

Come Around Again does have that feeling of deja vu, with some lacklustre alternating guitar chords and a Toploader re-hash of fifth Beatle Billy Preston keyboards from the aforementioned Fab Four album. Sheer agony, devoid of any spice. Take It Or Leave It invokes Lust for Life again in the intro before managing to actually induce some surprise, with a propelling bassline rocking us into the Hives again. It’s the closest Jet come to a re-invigoration of the album. Lazy Gun is more like Lazy Glam with a penny whistle guitar and more atrocious, abstract lyrics – “changed nothing / the future’s in / close the door” – why this should be the crucial triplet of the song, repeated over and over is beyond me. What’s that now? A chorus of humming? A last resort if you ask me. Timothy is a plaintive, damp and dull ballad built around vocal harmonies that hardly ends the album on a high (or maybe it does, judging by the lyrics – “Timothy, we found your spaceship…”).

I still encourage you to listen to this album. Just don’t buy it. Money should not be exchanged for anything other than the first three tracks, at most. It all makes for good clean “guess the rip-off” japes, but there is no variety, no edge, and no sparkle in this music at all, to provide any sustenance for sustained listening.

Fair dinkum, if you’ve never heard any songs by the most famous rock bands in history, this album may be a revelation and a huge turn-on. Unfortunately, if you have done even a modicum of rock sampling, Jet will suffer by comparison, and you’ll end up decrying this flaming gallah of an album. Besides, they still don’t look like Natalie Imbruglia. D.Rose

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