The Raveonettes
Hoxton Bar & Kitchen, London
07/09/2009

Considering that when they started out they were merely the, albeit pretty astonishing, answer to an entirely reasonable question – what if the Jesus And Mary Chain‘s collaboration with Hope Sandoval had actually sounded like it did on paper? The Raveonettes have proven to be a terrifically tenacious partnership. More impressively still, while the appeal of many of their peers has worn from thin to threadbare, the reasons they seduced to begin with are not only enduringly present but endearingly augmented.

For instance, it may, as is pointed out, be some years since Sharin Foo set foot on a London Stage, but her iconic-without-ever-quite-being-icy presence remains alluring; after all, pop stars that can be Debbie Harry from one angle and Sandie Shaw from another are few and far between, and consequently well worth celebrating. Her similarly-acely-named co-conspirator Sune Rose Wagner, meanwhile, maintains his fine line in vocals that fuse the arch androgyny of Jonsi Sigur Ros with the serpentine malevolence of Ade Clinic. Elsewhere, too, the drums are consistently cavernously gun-fighting, while the joys of NOISE! are seldom left alone for long, most notably during the metallic scrap at the heart of ‘Attack Of The Ghost Riders’.

Yet, while the old favourites come charging into focus at a rate of knots here, with ‘Dead Sound’ and ‘That Great Love Sound’ proving particularly enervating, it’s the newer moments that really seal it for them. ‘Aly, Walk With Me’ is a florid and flaying saunter of a song, ‘Last Dance’ is arguably both their outstanding pop moment, sing-along “wooh-oo-wooh-oos” and all, and as close as they come to embracing nu-gaze, and, unquestionably, it’s the incongruously bubblegum ‘Boys Who Rape Should All Be Destroyed’ that leaves the most fearlessly vivid impression. Meet the new Rave then; same as the old Rave, but, with fuzzy logic this convincing, who’s complaining?

Iain Moffat