ROLL UP FOR THE MYSTERY TOUR

Ok, so it's a band in the unusual position of fielding both a father and son in the line-up, but the Mystery Jets are much more than a family affair. Blaine and Henry Harrison tell Kevin Courtney about their trademark, mad exuberant rush of sound.

BLAINE HARRISON must have heard some wonderful bedtime stories as a child. Not your usual fairytales, mind; these would have been epic legends of rock 'n' roll past, in which not everybody lived happily ever after. Stories like "Once upon a time there was a King dressed in blue suede, who ate too many magic pills and died on his porcelain throne."

When Blaine was just nine years old, he and his mate Will Rees formed their first band, inspired by dad Henry's oral history of rock 'n' roll. Ten years later, Blaine and Will are still playing together, but there's a twist to this tale. Along with bassist Kai Fish and drummer Kapil Trivedi, there's a fifth, older member of The Mystery Jets who just happens to have a vast knowledge of rock's rich history - Henry himself.

"Not that I indulged in the past, but I had read a lot about it," says Henry, sitting with his young bandmates in Jury's on Parnell St in Dublin. "So I knew what was going on the the late Sixties and early Seventies. They were captivated by it, Will and Blaine, initially, from the age of three onwards. And they were bored by classical music; they didn't find a hook in classical music, but they found a hook in my record collection, which tended towards prog music of the early Seventies, y'know, long, long solos and interesting variations."

One of Blaine and Will's favourites from Henry's collection was Pink Floyd's debut album, The Piper at the Gates of Dawn. Blaine became fascinated with Floyd's fallen singer, Syd Barrett, and, when he formed the Mystery Jets, Barrett became the model for his vocal style. "I love his singing," says Blaine. "He sings like a child almost, very naive and unaffected, and I really admire that."

Henry's record collection has also influenced the band's anything-goes attitude to making music. Although they've managed largely to avoid the more self-indulgent noodling associated with prog-rock, they're not afraid to try out strange time-signature changes, Mellotron sounds, male voice choir harmonies and odd musical juxtapositions. The result is a mad, exuberant rush of sound, as though a wild garden party has just suddenly landed in front of you.

They've named their debut album Making Dens, in celebration of that childhood pastime of creating a cosy, secure space of your own, but one or 10 listens to such exuberant songs as Alas Agnes, Zootime and You're Not Fooling Us Dennis, and you realise that this is one band who don't intend to get musically boxed in.

Onstage, they seem a motley crew, guitarist Kai Fish looking like he's just come back from boarding school, drummer Kapil Trivedi looking as though he wandered in from a hip-hop gig, and Blaine sitting centre stage with scraggly hair in front of a keyboard, surrounded by various percussive objects, including a dustbin lid, a colander and a mailbox. Meanwhile, the two guitarists, Will and Henry, cut axeman poses from every era, Will tightly coiled like someone out of The Strokes, Henry loosely kicking like he's in Status Quo. Introducing new single The Boy Who Ran Away, Henry asks the audience if any of them have ever run away from home, and Kai chides: "We just asked them that, Henry. Tsk, old people."

Mystery Jets are in town as part of the NME Shockwaves Awards Tour, first on the bill on a line-up which features We Are Scientists, Maximo Park and the mighty, mighty Arctic Monkeys. It's their first trip to Ireland, even though Henry's late mum came from Rathmines. After this interview, Henry and Blaine will visit the house on Charlemont Avenue where she used to live; later tonight, a bunch of his Irish relations will be coming along to the gig.

"We have to be careful with the Harrison name in Ireland," reveals Blaine, "because apparently it's got rather dark roots." "Henry Harrison, my ancestor, was private secretary to Parnell," says Henry. "And Colonel Harrison was Oliver Cromwell's right-hand man," says Blaine. "So you don't wanna go there."

Ask Henry about being in a band with four blokes half his age, one of whom is his son, and he'll state blandly but firmly that The Mystery Jets are five equal members; he doesn't tell the others what to do, and he doesn't impose any parental sanctions on his son. Ask Blaine what it's like having his dad in the band and he'll tell you that Henry was always in the band - there was never any other possible line-up. Ask the other guys about their mate's dad being in the band, and they'll say he adds a bit of "maturity" to their sound. Ask the audience, and their verdict is unanimous: when Mystery Jets opened the night's proceedings at the Ambassador last week, the crowd knew the words of all the songs, even though the album's not even out yet.

All five Jets hail from various parts of London, but are collectively based in Eel Pie Island in Twickenham, the birthplace of British R 'n' B of the 1960s, and the spawning ground of such bands as The Who and The Kinks. Henry bought a property on the site of an old hippie commune, and this is where Mystery Jets rehearse their rather unconventional melange of prog, punk, folk and colander-bashing.

"It's the remnants of the Sixties scene on the island," says Henry. "It is a private island, it's not really a part of London. It's got its own rules really. It's a law unto itself, but that's not to say that everyone gets on. We have a few enemies on the island. But it's a haven."

The band have held numerous "happenings" at their rehearsal place, and invited other bands to join the fun, but had to curtail the regular festivities when neighbours complained and the band were threatened with a £20,000 fine. So, instead, they're travelling around the UK on NME's magical mystery tour, after which they'll lug the dustbin lid around Europe, then head off to the US to play South by South West. And, no doubt, Henry will have to field more questions about his band's unique cross-generational dynamic.

"Sometimes I worry for the other boys, if the thing they hook onto is Blaine and I, whereas it's a five-piece band of equal individuals. It's just the way people perceive it. You know, people are brought in by one thing, and then when they listen to the music, they realise that it's a completely different thing, and nothing to do with the fact that I'm in it and Blaine's my son. It's its own force."

The single, The Boy Who Ran Away, is out on February 24th on 679 Records. The album, Making Dens, is out on March 6th