For your car

Genre: Alternative/Soul/Electronica

When two punk-rock London rude boys met a bluesy-soul songstress with a halo of hair with ribbons of frayed and frazzled afro curls, magic was made, and their debut “What’s The Time, Mr. Wolf?” went on to become an underground glow stick-waving party starter. After guitarist Daniel Smith and percussionist Jamie Morrison tapped the shoulder of Zimbabwean temper-tantum Veruca Salt sex kitten Shingai Shoniwa to create a purple flamed mushroom cloud sound that fuses No Doubt, Bow Wow Wow and Sade—they took the London anti-establishment subterranean by storm. And for a while, there were paper wars between them and New York bar-divers The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and no one could make up their minds. Both bands had chicks with enough moxie to spare: emotional-cutter Karen would crowdsurf as if attempting suicide on stage and Shingai would dart off a nightclub floor like a beer pong ball from hell—and both have killer fashion senses. Eventually, Karen O and her boys went on to make electro-synth dance records—and the Noisettes elected to create this excellent sophomore effort, , a riveting new wave neo-soul punk-rock record that shimmers and shines like electric silk.

This critic had the chance to see these lovely musical droogs in a club in SoHo, promoting a listing of what would become this record not long ago, and noticed that the young American’s who were in attendance liked what they had to say, as hundreds slicked through the bouncer-guarded velvet roped doors like liquid jellyfishes. Why are they such hot shots you wonder? Upon releasing their first record, they were called “The Band to Watch” by magazines such as Nylon and Rolling Stone, with Spin magazine detailing the band’s rich rave-gala live performances as an eccentrically sublime experience in modern times. With a girl group duo backing singer Shingai, a clash-of-titans bazaar of sound drifting Jamie’s LSD-epileptic drumming style and Daniel’s fever pitch ozone-destroying guitar blazing, they are a band on the rise, achieving an eclectic fan base of zeitgeist trendsetters and blitzed literati cool kids. With their fête lifestyle, they opened this record like they opened that magical show in NYC, with the radio-friendly and happy-go-lucky “Wild Young Hearts”—a jovial, punky-funk handclapping anthem made for the Y2K iPhone generation sweethearts. It’s memorably luscious La-la-la-la intro and show stopping chorus clap break make for a great time especially in a time where fans driven by surf-rock Disney pop tart tunes could also join in. Shingai’s solid delivery and charismatic summer-love-gone-awry anecdote is one guaranteed to get the party started with its take no prisoners swing-and-sway melody.

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