The Raveonettes

The Raveonettes

Venue, Thursday, March 13 "We're the Raveonettes." And thus the most talked-about and well-attended showcase of the evening commenced, marked by brain-piercing feedback and guitar squeals that segued into a moody, Gothic rendition of Buddy Holly's "Everyday." You'd think that a minor-key rendition, complete with atonal vocal harmonies, of one of the happiest songs in musical history would come across as snide and ironic, but you'd be wrong. Great Danes Sharin Foo and Sune Rose Wagner succeeded in making the song their irascible own before launching into straightforward robo-rock that blossomed into full-on clang-banging pop-punk, the guitars crashing into each other willy-nilly and all dressed up with Foo's sultry, caramel-smooth vox. All the lines snap together as snugly as their home country's signature Legos and are as tasty as the nation's gooey-sweet pastry namesake. Wagner's angular lead guitar was at times reminiscent of an evil New Order, while the taut, insistent breakdowns suggested a less-earnest Jesus and Mary Chain, especially with the vocals mixed quite low, which allowed the instrumental textures to shine through. This is dark, unironic Eighties retro spiced up with a dash of Fifties rockabilly thrown in for good measure. Visually, Foo served as a wholly pleasing focal point, what with the dusky eyes, platinum-blond hair, and pouty, elfin affect. She was like a creature from Dark Crystal gone deliciously awry, holding men and women alike under her nonchalantly sexy spell, daring you to look away although she'd be damned if she cared. If lack of irony is a true act of rebellion, this duo and their immensely talented supporting players have got the sound and the look down to a T. It won't be long before we'll all be eating out of their hands, regardless of one's position in the industry food chain.