Switchblade Romance

So at night when she’s sound asleep
I head out in the rain to meet
All the things she never gave
To me when I was down
All the things I had to find
With strangers in strange towns

- The Raveonettes, "Little Animal"

Thursday saw me at the Guild of Students again, this time to see Denmark’s premier exponents of neo-50s pulp-noir rock ‘n’ roll, The Raveonettes. It’s become my tradition to mock the support acts, so here we go. First up were The Boxer Rebellion, who blotted their copybook with me by not taking to the stage dressed as Kansu Tigermen. This failing was compounded by the fact that they were rubbish. Marginally better were The Dogs, who filled their slot by copying The Jam. If I wanted to hear that, I would’ve stayed at home and listened to The Jam. Decent version of "A-Bomb On Wardour Street", mind.

The Raveonettes provide an interesting counterpoint to The Dogs. It’s the difference between copying someone and remixing your influences: Sune Rose Wagner and Sharin Foo somehow manage to channel the spirits of Buddy Holly, Marlon Brando, Phil Spector, and Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, turning them into something unique.

The Raveonettes have successfully identified what was always great about 1950s rock, and have revived it. It’s filled with the joy of being young and rich, 50s teenagers being the first generatrion to enjoy that. At the same time, it recognises the hollowness underneath it all. You can cruise down California’s sun-baked highways all you like, but we all know that eventually you’ll reach the sea, and then there’s nowhere else to go.

What I’m trying to say is this: you should like The Raveonettes, and if you don’t there’s something wrong with you.

It’s as simple as that.