The Noisettes / Mystery Jets - London Soho Borderline - 13/3/05
5/5
By: JJ Florio
There is a certain member of any worthy band whose role is of the most fundamental importance. Without this person's carefully astute contribution to the overall proceedings, the group simply wouldn't be able to function properly and yet, he (or she) must perform this task with a disproportionately minimal amount of recognition.
Step forward please, The Drummer. All too often, whilst the singer and guitarist are basking in the warm glow of the public's affections, our friend the drummer is left at the back only to be acknowledged for the 'I think I need a crap' face that the job sometimes essentially requires. Many of the most preposterously gifted drummers are forced to become the Andrew Ridgley's of a band based solely on age-old conventions that seem to stem from the fact that Ringo couldn't really sing. If ever there was a display of how drummers can help make great gig, doing everything from revealing the smallest subtleties in the music to propelling it with intense, rocket-fuelled momentum, then it was this night at the Borderline where two bands boasted the extraordinary talents of three drummers.
Bonham-tastic. So, seeming unhappy with just the one, and, certainly not being a band to openly follow convention, Mystery Jets have two drummers. Rather than this being some sort of Rialto-style gimmick, the interplay between main drummer Kapil's standard set (bass-drum, snare, cymbals, etc.) and lead-singer Blaine's selection of kitchen utensils, bar-trays and other assorted metal serves not only as the rhythmic foundation, but also reaches out to colour, compliment and acknowledge every single aspect of the clatter. Between them they have the most intense yet intricate musical conversations, one playing and then the other filling in the gap the first has left, only for the two to come together and punctuate a vocal phrase. After a half-hour set every conceivable possibility not only seems to have been explored, but mastered. (For the full Mystery Jets gush, see the Barfly review from January).
The Noisettes are amazing. A three-piece consisting of drums, guitar and vocals (with occasional bass-playing), Shingai, Dan and Jamie have been causing a wave of tepid anticipation on the live scene of late, and at tonight's airing, it becomes apparent why. Like Bill Hicks at his wittiest, Al Pacino at his smoothest or Mike Tyson at his angriest, The Noisettes are a force that demand your attention. The charisma of singer Shingai is almost impossibly infectious, the crowd at once becoming like a group of enthralled seven-year-olds being told the greatest story in the world. Wearing a skimpy white corset together with black and pink tights complete with a huge orange feather in her hair, she pulls it off in the same manner that Freddy Mercury pulled off the chest-less catsuit; not only making it cool, but sexy. Her powers as a front-woman are formidable, lying somewhere between Nina Simone, Kate Bush and Skin, she is the physical embodiment of the music, and at times she almost is the music.
In most line-ups, such a person would overly dominate but with the additional presence of a ludicrously fluent, angel-voiced guitar player and powerhouse drummer; in Dan and Jamie respectively, she has found her musical equals. In twenty-five minutes of pure musical virtuosity and exceptional songcraft seen in the contagious thrust of 'Signs' and the sheer brooding mastery of 'Monte Cristo', The Noisettes treat us to a set that seems to challenge the conventions of what a three-piece are capable. Rocking, lilting, swinging, whispering, seeming to explore every possibility of the music, and it is Jamie's articulately percussive contribution as a drummer that seems to serve as the fuel for this sonic engine. This one's for you, the man at the back.
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