The Sleepy Jackson: God Lead Your Soul

All hail the Return Of The Wacko

This returning effort from helpless weirdo and terminal band-sacker Luke Steele should reaffirm his status as the unsung hero of symphonic pop. Opening with cosmically swoonful harmonies that call to mind The Beach Boys, if the beach in question is on the shores of the lunar sea of tranquillity, it develops into a masterpiece of spacey balladry that The Flaming Lips would be proud of. From the bombastic drums to the unashamedly overblown brass and strings, exotic percussion and lush choral singing, no-one can call the man from Perth unambitious. Well worth the wait.