The Formula Of The Raveonettes
October 30th, 2009
By now, you’re either a Raveonettes fan or you’re not. You’ve either been sucked up into the hurricane or dutifully dodged it. Sounds trite, right? Maybe, but not entirely. Since 2003, the Danish duo (Sune Rose Wagner now spends most of his time in NYC and L.A.), has concocted four increasingly addictive albums that don’t differ terribly from one single-dose narcotic formula. That formula, for those caught unawares, is essentially created by dissolving an infatuation with lovesick, pre-hippie American pop into a trashy, drug-and-sex induced obsession with 80’s shoegaze storms. Maybe my favorite piece of trivia, in case you haven’t yet unearthed this little fact, is that their name is a combined salute to Buddy Holly’s version of “Rave On!” and sweetie-pie 60’s girl group the Ronettes. Their name wins copious style points, let alone the leather-jacket-wearing, motorcycle-riding, pinup-loving image they played up in their early years.
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Wagner and his cohort, Sharin Foo (1/4 Chinese), suffered from inconsistency on their first two records until they hit pay dirt with 2007’s Lust Lust Lust. That record, with its ‘for whom the bell tolls’ kind of dread and incredible guitar ecstasy, turned on a light bulb in my head. “This shit is good,” I said to myself. Multiple times. Over and over. Its candy-coated arsenic (“You Want the Candy”, anyone?) ended up placing fifth in my illustrious ‘Favorite Non-NW Albums of 2008‘. No lie.
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So, no, the new LP, In and Out of Control, doesn’t bring any new toxins to the table, but Wagner and Foo sure as hell know what they’re doing. And they sound good doing it. Right off the bat, with “Bang!”, they’re singing (in the androgynous dual-harmony style they’re known for) about teens having summer sex. While the production is cleaner this time around, there are plenty of noise and reverb indulgences to swirl around their surf and garage tendencies. “Gone Forever”, something of a fist-pumping anthem to broken love, is a prime example. In an album with eleven tracks, its the 7-8-9 trio that really stands the album on its feet. The heartfelt “Suicide” encourages troubled young ladies to ditch the route of self-demise and run off to the big city for some trashy fun instead. “Your boyfriend’s mean / And your mom’s a bitch” is the exposition.
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The Raveonettes haven’t written many dance songs, but I’d wager “D.R.U.G.S.” is their entrant into that competition. Maybe a dance club in a John Hughes flick, though, with its stark “whoa oh oh whoa oh oh” refrain and morbid depictions of users. Sometimes I wonder what their actual stance on drug use is. I do know, however, they advocate “Breaking Into Cars”, which happens to be an awesome song about young lust as a catalyst for high-speed theft. And while chronicling the achy bliss of obsessive adolescent love is a generally accepted (read: common) principle in songwriting, Foo and Wagner have perfected their execution of it. From my seat, the tonic is sweet.
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“D.R.U.G.S.”
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Catch the band at Neumos next week, Friday November 6th, with the Crocodiles. I think it’ll be good. Get tickets.
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