The Raveonettes: Lust, Lust, Lust

As anyone who has ever looked through their record collection will tell you, very little in the way of music could conceivably be described at 'timeless'.

Over the course of their three full-length albums and first mini-album, the Danish duo of Sune Rose Wagner and Sharin Foo have crafted such a sound. Their approach is a careful juxtaposition of the classic 60's noir style of songwriting and elegance with the beautifully decayed technology of the modern day.

"Lust, Lust, Lust" conjures up an almost dreamlike quality throughout it's twelve songs. The harmony of Wagner's and Foo's vocals are buried under a thousand wavelengths of reverb making everything feel that much more surreal and full of yearning. Behind these, guitar static and noise swash around in the mix serving to push to the forefront the delicate guitar melodies which shape the songs with aching detail and stand in sharp contrast to the decaying background.

To the newcomer, it will sound like a constant barrage of noise, to the ones with patience it will gradually unfold it's artful understated excellence. With repeated listens though, inevitably, the flaws do become more obvious. The band's decision to use a completely programmed back-line (drums and bass) is a two-edged sword. Although it serves to focus the spotlight upon the dual vocal and dual guitar collaboration, it also leaves the engine of the songs sounding overly repetitive with little for the sub-woofer to do except to thump and reinforce the tone of the guitars.

Like a picture formed from 'snow' on a television screen, there are some songs which catch the ear. "You Want the Candy" is possibly the finest cover-version to date of The Primitives' "Crash", it's only flaw being that it wasn't actually intended as such. Lead track "Aly, Walk With Me" bristles with enough angst and longing to soundtrack a hundred John Hughes films, whilst threatening to implode on itself under the sheer weight of the abounding distortion which encapsulates the chaos and cacophony of longing romance on the brain.

"Expelled From Love", on the other hand adds a helping of melancholy with it's downbeat groove. If the album is a dream, this is the regrettable awakening during the night into a semi-lucid state before re-immersion. By the onset of dawn though, this will be one recurring dream that you will positively welcome.