Chin Chin

I like to think of Chin Chin as dance music for those of us who can’t dance. I’m a menace on a dance floor, with jerky white-boy moves that make Beck look like Tina Turner by comparison. But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a good groove. Hailing from Brooklyn, Chin Chin take most of their cues from the ’70s playbook, fusing soul, funk, hip-hop, pop, and electronica with dashes of salsa and jazz. Though Chin Chin is a much whiter band, I’m still tempted to compare them to Gnarls Barkley; something about them is vintage but uncontrived. Songs like “Miami” call to mind both Steely Dan and Kid Creole, while “Ohio” makes me think of Wings covering some hot Stax soul ballad. With a goofball sensibility (they have a song about premature ejaculation), it’s obvious they take the music more seriously than they do themselves. But that sense of humor allows the band to throw in elements more serious groups would avoid altogether, such as Roy Ayers’ vibraphone tinkles and Peter Frampton–esque guitar squawks.
Wed., May 28, 9 p.m., 2008