THE VOICE OF CHICAGO'S GAY, LESBIAN, BI, TRANS AND QUEER COMMUNITY SINCE 1985

Empire of the Sun, awash in a curtain of high-tech lighting (think of Close Encounters on prime crack) was a feast of Japanese anime, high-gloss tribal glam, rock theater, superhero accents and Mayan/aztec influences. Next to this bunch Gaga's fountains of blood and prime rib, evening wear looked silly and superfluous. I can't tell you what Empire of the Sun sounded like that night, but I can say that what I saw left an impression like no other.

Enough about the glam and face paint. (Don't worry, I'll get to that.) Now that Empire of the Sun and, particularly, frontman Luke Steele have become hitmakers and video darlings, it's a lot easier to approach them with a more even footing. For all the layers of makeup, deadpan facial expressions, high drama and high priest sun god leisure wear, Empire of the Sun may look like a pretentious outfit that promises to bore the hell out of the world with a monolithic display of raving hyped-up shit but they are really a pop band. Actually, it's a very good one (give them another year and they may be one of the best) and their sound is warm, billowing, elegant, high-tech, inoffensive, engaging and catchy as hell. Listening to the new Ice on the Dune (Capitol Records) is like being wrapped in a silk parachute nude with the love of your life on an endless caribbean beach. Like 2008's Walking on a Dream (Capitol Records), the music may not be as memorable after you stop listening to it, but that hardly seems to be the point. Steele and bandmate Nick Littlemore seem more interested in capturing the flavor of moods, moments and emotions rather than concrete thoughts. The message seems to be: "Free your head and your ass will follow."

In this column I've made the point of defending the joys of pure pop (yes, I will go to the grave with the Monkees' "Cuddly Toy" lodged in my brain) and Empire of the Sun calls to mind late-period E.L.O. (Secret Messages in particular), but without that band's patented gimmickry and Jeff Lynne's earthbound croak. Part of the fun of this group is that it's taken the (brilliant) step of melding sexy, catchy hooks to danceable beats and wrapping it in a creamy, gauzy chiffon. The music is all soft buffed edges, flowing melodies and subtle elegance. If only Bryan Ferry would listen to this band and get his mojo back.

Now about that look. What I see is a hodgepodge of Mexican religious art, Native American face paint, East Indian fashion, a touch of comic-book goofiness, Asian influences—all of it draped on Steele, who has a placid blank expression stuck on his face. You would think that he would look silly in all that but quite the contrary: He wears his look so well that he looks grand, benign, otherworldly and, well, pretty. If Adam Lambert's suave sheen looked sexy, Boy George's constantly evolving frocks looked like a statement and David Bowie's vintage alien drag seemed designed to shock, Steele's look makes you want to hug him. A cuddly, celestial, angelic sun child? OK.

For all the subtle whooshing and polish of Ice on the Dune, Empire of the Sun's show last week at the Aragon Ballroom was akin to atoms smashing and the formation of a new universe. "Subtle," "whooshing" and "polish" were hardly the words to describe this show but "apocalyptic" sure seems appropriate. It wasn't enough that Steele turned in his Inca headgear for something that Thor's brother, Loki, would wear (actually Loki would be jealous and pissed), or that the lights were designed to not only overwhelm but to assault, or that the dancers were an extravagant show alone, or that the music was transformed from hummable charming pop into ass shaking, thunderous epics. No, this was a show designed to entertain and overwhelm, and Steele and Littlemore packed the stage with so much flash, thunder, action, drama and theater that you would have to be dead not to love it. With all the mayhem onstage the best bit of tomfoolery was the blank look on Steele's face which made him look like just another larger than life rockstar. When Steele jumped down into the audience to sing with the fans on several occasions his facade changed dramatically; he was so happy to be in his crowd that he looked like a 3-year-old on Christmas morning. (I've never seen someone smile so broadly.)

This, of course, puts everything about Empire of the Sun into context. Yes, they look heady and intense but they really want to entertain and uplift you. From all the young men that I saw in the audience who wore face paint in homage to Steele to the family of East Indians in the front row (yes, including the 6, 7 and 9-year-olds), they certainly hit the target.