Melody Maker (8 Jul 95)

SPY IN THE SKY

CBGB/REBAR, NEW YORK CITY

A GAME of two halves. The first part of Sleeper's Tuesday night tour of Manhattan takes place in a tip and is really pretty good, while the second occurs amid refubished, high-sheen civilisation and is a bit of a non-event.
CBGB, vernerable venue of legends, delivery room of American punk, etcetera, is a dive. In fact, if you've got a moment, it's a plunge from the high springboard involving a triple somersault with a one-and-a-half twist in the tuck position, and with a degree-of-difficulty factor nudging double figures. The service is glacial, the ventilation non-existent, the toilets like hell's basement and the day when some civic-minded arsonist puts the place out of everyone's misery is hopefully not far off.
.....Just as well, then, that Sleeper are at their brattish best for this one. It's clear from the off that the amount of time they've spent on the road this year has toughened them up appreciably. As recently as February, much of their set still recalled the dismal dishwater of such bygone timewassters as The Flatmates. These days, however, their less imspired moments- the gawky "Alice In Vain", the bizarrely adored "Delicious"- at least have the virtue of sounding punchy rather than apologetic. Their finer hours, on the other hand- "Vegas", "Inbetweener", "Disco Duncan"- are deserving of the demented rapture of the clique of Anglophiles who've piled down the front. Mostly female, all clarly in love iwth Louise and grasping plastic bags full of autograph fodder int heir sweaty palms, these are the people on whom Sleeper's Stateside fanbbase will be built. This may or may not be a good thing, depending on Sleeper's amenability to being worshipped by people with foam collecting at the corners of their mouths and faraway looks in their distinctly glassy eyes.
.....The second gig of the night, a few blocks away at the infinately more genteel REbar- couches, air-condistioning and a crowd familiar with the rudiments of personal hygiene- is, unfortunately, less auspicious. Cunningly, the stage is elevated a mere two inchese from the floor and Louise is not, shall we say, among the first to know when it's raining. So, the only thing visible at all from further back than five feet is the top of drummer Andy's head as he lurches from his stool on every other beat (his frenetic and spectacular playing is a highlight of both shows, and I'm not just saying that because he's teh world's second saddest Triffids fan: hanging out with Clem Burke has clearly done him good).
.....The band and the seven people who saw anything emerge at the end looking happy enough. Sleeper's first American tour proper is now over, and they stand like so many before them on the launchpad that has so often proved a trapdoor. Reservations remain- they're still just an indie pop group, even if they're a good one and getting better all the time- but Sleeper are still sharper than most, and far more heinous buffoons has been sent over as ambassadors before now.
.....Good luck to 'em.

ANDREW MUELLER