"What flavour are these crisps supposed to be?"
"Your Phone Number."

Wrapped in Plastic @ Underbelly 30.07.09

Wrapped in Plastic are topping the bill on a night seemingly intent on fusing great soulful vocals with iffy A Level funk-rock. Fortunately for us, Wrapped in Plastic aren't big on the likes of Jamiroquai, Chilli Peppers or Toploader.

Having survived the Curse of The Mekano Set, vocalist Beth Rettig has recruited former Curve / Echobelly guitarist Deb Smith for fuzz-wah-filth duties, alongside Flame On’s high-heeled bassist Kendra Frost, who keeps things grounded with the grimy dirge-bass-lines.

Wrapped in Plastic map out a slick, accusatory, spite-filled groove that sounds like NIN without the ugly machismo. It’s full of a fierce coiled-spring energy that sets them apart from mere game amateurs with the right wardrobe.

They say that accidents come in threes. They also say that three is a magic number. As a trio, WIP are the ultimate anti-Girl Group: Deb's just the kind of dapper Rude Girl you want a night on the town with, in Soho, on the lash. Beth's the one you want to party with, stand in a corner staring in silence because they're playing your favourite song, and then end up down a dark alley, fighting off Ninjas. Kendra's the chilled out one who effortlessly plays bass and sings whilst unwittingly making sex-face expressions.

Beth has one of those archetypal punk voices. Think Patti Smith, Siouxsie, Chrissie Hynde, P. J. Harvey. Something of a dying breed in an era where a nasal wine is considered soulful. It’s great to hear someone carrying on the torch and song. She stalks the stage with unfailing confidence, throwing shapes with a vengeance, then throwing herself on the floor. We can forgive her shameless wholesale shop-lifting of Karen O’s moves, because of that voice. Beth makes YYY's Karen O look like an over-medicated child that's crawled into the dressing-up box.

But it’s guitarist Deb who’s the real show-stealer. Dressed as a 1940’s man about town, complete with jauntily angled trilby and classy brown brogues. She takes a pinch of snuff between songs and takes the whole thing in her stride. Her solid, pared-down guitar work provides the perfect foil for Beth’s industrial diva musings.

It’s clear to see just how much Beth contributed to her former bands sound. The sleazy drum machine beats are harsh and lo-fi, the bass-lines low and grainy, the guitars transformed into filthy, oil-slick waves of white-noise.

The band are confident, cohesive and tight but sadly, everything is too quiet and the venue clearly isn’t geared towards a band with a decent beat. There is something a little one-dimensional about WIP’s overall sound, but that voice, and the overall understated power of girls rocking with dignity intact more than compensates. Indeed, Girls Are Loud. Unless they scare the sound man.


www.myspace.com/wrappedinplasticuk