There are those who would have you believe that musicians can be divided into two exclusive camps: the bright, brutal young things whose forte is primal energy and excitement; and the celebral souls who offset such day-glo simplicity with articulacy and intelligence. The two rarely meet, if ever. There is, as a singularly nasty politician once had it, an expanse of clear blue water keeping them apart.

There are exceptions of course - and Sleeper are one of them. Within their music lies an intoxicating hybrid of sharp-brained lyricism and adrenalised abandon. They can be hurtling along one minute, and then peering into the darker side of the human psyche the next. Better still, their music has become suffused with a striking sense of place and time: all told, they stand crowned as one of the achingly relevant groups we have.

Which means, of course, that the journalistic fraternity has followed their every move and gone out of its way to carve out its own set of Sleeper cliches. We will reel them off now, just to get them out of the way: they are a female-fronted band led by mediawise gobshite called Louise Wener whose sole mission is to explode all manner of liberal sensitivities.

In truth, the spate of opinions that tumbled into dozens of tape recorders during Sleeper's first phase was no more outrageous than any rational argument against the stifling, moralistic strictures of PC - it just got cannibalised and bastardised and sensationalised. Despite the barrage of ill will that dominated their press coverage last year the band retained a huge contingent of devotees and are back in '96 to take the unsuspecting pop world by storm.

Back to the basics, then. The seeds of Sleeper were sown when Louise Wener encountered Jon Stewart at Manchester University in the late '80s. They both drifted through a succession of inauspicious bands, became music-crazed dole-ites, and - having enlisted Andy Maclure and Diid Osman - made their live debut with Sleeper in mid 1993. Signed to Indolent soon after, they released their debut single in November 1993. An affecting disquieting creature entitled 'Alice In Vain', it wrapped itself around the synapses of assorted journalists, and the bands ascent began in earnest. As proved by their increasing confident shows, they were mainlining off a beguiling mixture of influences - the Pixies, Bowie, the spittle-flecked energy of the original punks - and crafting songs with that aforementioned fusion of incendiary power and soaring intelligence.

In 1994, the velocity of their rise increased. February brought the 'Swallow' single - and in May, Sleeper released 'Delicious'. Quite the most dizzying ode to the pleasures of lust imaginable [delivered, if anyone actually noticed, with Louise's tongue nudging her cheek], it found her embroiled in the quote-fest that has sculpted perceptions of the band ever since.

Whatever, with the release of 'Inbetweener' in January 1995, Sleeper's arrival was confirmed. A sly, slinky glance at the fine details of life in Louise's native Ilford, it was surrounded by the aura of a nigh-on perfect pop song, endowed with an obvious charm that sent it to Number 16. And then came the debut album: 'Smart', an assemblage of songs that proved just how gloriously incisive Sleeper's gifts were [its since sold over 130,000, incidentally]. Within its sleeve lay evidence of growth into a fully-formed, character-oozing group: part satirists, part social commentators, part consummate pop band.

The point was proven beyond reasonable doubt by 'Vegas' - a tour de force that finished their initial spurt of progress at an artistic peak. Which brings us, after a deluge of live dates and the pre-Christmas release of 'What Do I Do Now' [another hit, natch].

Sleeper's new album entitled 'The It Girl' [which has now sold 200,000 copies in the UK] was produced by Stephen Street and recorded in the fume-ridden climes of our capital, it sees Sleeper achieving ambition-fuelled fruition, wrapping up Louise's filmic observations of suburban minutiae, romantic anthropology and the like in crisp arrangements that throb with virtuosity. In tandem with the lyrics [witness beautifully-worded tracks like 'Dressed Like Your Mother' and 'Lie Detector'], they easily scotch the idea that Sleeper were merely a press-courted blip. 'The It Girl' has one central message: they are going to last actually.

A few scattered points need making, while we are about. The first cut off the album was the superlative, slyly funny 'Sale Of The Century' which hit the charts at No. 9 and confirmed Sleeper as genuine pop contenders. Following that in July was the even more succesful 'Nice Guy Eddie' and the fourth track 'Statuesque' confirmed their chart success. On the album, these are accompanied by tune called 'Good Luck Mr. Gorsky', whose title comes from a mysterious comment made by Neil Armstrong after the lunar landings: it turned out Mr. Gorsky was his childhood next door neighbour, once told by his irate spouse that he would get oral sex on the same day the kid next door walked on the moon. Oh, and if anyone is ready to ask Louise what gives her the right to lampoon her targets so gleefully, bear in mind that her knowing eye gets cast over her own life as much as anyone elses.

That is about it, anyway. Bin those cliches. And take pleasure in a band who have managed to combine intelligence and excitement to quite marvellous effect.

John Harris, 1996