Britpop Chipshop @ The Hoxton Underbelly

No matter how close we are to Hoxton Square, when you've got a singer who's wearing a pair of wobbly antlers and a cheap wooden tie, it's a safe bet that we're not watching a gothic art troupe, and they're not playing a looping death drone.

In fact, the name Britpop Chipshop itself is likely to act like a skunk gas to anyone who spent the '90s too pissed off about the death of grunge to enjoy the merry prankster pop of Supergrass or the sofa bouncing yoof-stunts of Blur.

It's the former band which the Chipshop most recall, but playing tonight to an absolutely rammed underground venue full of people who are actually - Jesus McHeaven - dancing and smiling (don't they know they're in London?), the band prove themselves to be a diverse team of crack commando pop adventurers, and worth a heck of a lot more than any preconceptions you might have about the '90s.

Paranoia is a theme which usually inspires eerie, jittery music, but the sensation is played up with a kind of Scooby Doo sense of mockery on the gorgeously melodic 'Something's Wrong'. Meanwhile, just because there's a DNA strand of comedy in the band's songs it doesn't mean they can't rock like sons of bitches: '¡Oiga Camarero!' shoots along like a classy garage rocker, with guitarist Josh Artus unleashing short, sharp busts of quickfire '60s blues soloing.

The whole band is totally up for it tonight, from the jabbering, dancing keyboard player to singer Jonny Abrams, him of the wooden tie and antlers persuasion. It's weirdness, it's strangeness and it's a perversion but they're enjoying themselves so much they start to recall Doctor Teeth and the Electric Mayhem - but with proper and potentially chart-bothering pop songs.

You may not like Britpop. You might not like Chipshops. But by some weird and freakish twist of fate, you will like Britpop Chipshop.