Music Review: The Raveonettes – Lust, Lust, Lust

Danish duo The Raveonettes (Sun Rose Wagner — vocals, guitar; Sharin Foo — vocals, bass) owe their third full-length album Lust, Lust, Lust to The Jesus And Mary Chain and the Velvet Underground for the type of simple raw rock sound that would never be mistaken for the White Stripes and if played on cheap broken speakers might actually add to the music.

There are many listeners that would be instantly distracted or turned off by the background noise found on most of the tracks. But the “noise” actually elevates the music, because there aren’t many chords or melodies that wouldn’t be drowned out or would still be worth listening to by being synced with such seemingly abstract sounds. The duo has crafted a synergy that both harmonizes and disharmonizes, as in the bridge in “Hallucinations” or the entire ballad “The Best Dies.”

There are four distinct sounds that are interspersed throughout the album. It’s interesting that the duo manages to vary itself despite using a similar rhythm that is felt in almost every track. One is a sultry, almost erotic, sound (“Aly, Walk With Me” and not surprisingly “Lust”); one is the band’s “regular” alternative sound (if it actually has one); another is a sort of beach boardwalk pop (“Blush” and “Blitzed”); and the other is a pseudo 50’s bubblegum pop (“Black Satin” and “You Want The Candy”).

By design, much of Lust, Lust, Lust is rough. While there are brief sections of gentleness and pause, they feel more like the calm before a storm rather than just moments of non-roughness. In “Dead Sound” the moments are used for good effect to musically add to both the song’s title and to the song’s theme of disappointment (“And now you go through a million girls / And try to pick what’s right / When nightfall comes and you’re still alone / Do you feel it deep inside”).

Depending on preference, it’s either fortunate or unfortunate that Lust runs so briskly. The style can be tiresome. However, like the sirens of a police car, The Raveonettes’ style can also be comforting. We get so used to the noise that when it isn’t on, it feels almost unacceptable.