The Victorian English Gentlemens Club

noise [noyz] n. 1. sound, especially a loud or unpleasant or undesired one.

** noisette** [noyz et] n. 1. one-third of southeast London’s most super-fantastic trio, hysterically descending from the skies to save the world with some lethal rock ‘n roll.

On one hand, a title like the Noisettes is nothing less than confusing. With that sort of cordial suffix, you imagine a rather pleasant and, perhaps, desired sound emerging from a Phil Spector girl group fresh out of etiquette school. Costumed in soft taffeta gowns and properly armed with lacy delicacy, feminine contours and flowery-mannered charm, a female trio may pipe amid a monster wall of resonance and indecipherable instruments.

No doubt about it, the Noisettes clear up the confusion with strikingly thick guitar licks and never-ending energy. Vocalist/bassist Shingai Shoniwa wickedly straddles a bass bigger than her entire body and catapults her vocals to pop out biting skits that burst into the stratosphere. Impenitently aggressive, grinding tunes rupture from the stage and cast a rash of whiplash on innocent bystanders. Turns out Shoniwa left her bass out for the past two songs, and though this thunderous musical explosion transpires from only two musicians it is deafeningly incredible.

Dan Smith’s infectious guitar grooves and Jamie Morrison’s relentless vigour on the drums combine to deliver a sonic attack that never looks back. Granted, the Noisettes’ may come across as tiredly formulaic to unconvinced ears, but the compelling charisma of their efforts as a live act is simply undeniable. The fizzy-soulful vocals of Shoniwa compliment an instrumental accessibility to impressively create a roaring arena sound in a tiny hall with a 250-person capacity; their history as a supportive act to Muse makes complete sense. It’s the ultra-theatrical camp quality of the Noisettes’ confidence that makes this event a most entertaining and satisfying one.

Photograph by Francis Booth (.com), taken from band's MySpace page