The Raveonettes have never released an album that doesn’t strive to make a point of celebrating retrogression.
Structurally, that means a simplification to basic instruments. Stylistically, that means a return to the vocal harmonies of mid-20th century girl groups infused with the fuzzy, distorted guitar reverberations of Jesus and Mary Chain. And thematically, that means all of the songs are an elegy to that desolate and moving place where drugs and love gone stale meet.
“Lust, Lust, Lust” is a culmination of The Raveonettes’ past releases and reflects the band’s evolution. Their debut EP, “Whip It On!,” was intentionally recorded using only three chords, with all the songs in the key of B-flat minor. On the first full-length “Chain Gang of Love,” vocalist and guitarist Sune Rose Wagner and vocalist and bassist Sharin Foo restricted themselves to B-flat major.
The minimalist results were impressively cinematic, imbued with enough percussive atmosphere to make a garage feel like a darkened night club.
On the tragically underrated second full-length “Pretty in Black,” the poetic power of The Raveonettes’ songwriting crystallized. It was girl-group vocal harmonies meets lovesick, sardonic lyrics. It was rockabilly reverbed into ambient pop. The album was retro right down to the cover art that recalled old film noir posters.
“Lust, Lust, Lust” is a uniform rendition of the occasionally uneven “Pretty in Black.” It inspires quietly and equally across the whole set of songs. On the third track “Lust,” the vocals of Wagner and Foo are softly echoed and subtly dissonant. Their delivery expresses resignation at the sinfulness of love. The heavily reverbed guitar verses, slowed down groove bass lines, and chorus of dirty guitar riffs punctuated by solid cymbal clashes feel like a drunken dance in a half-empty bar.
The next song, “Dead Sound,” begins with overlapping discordant white noise, heavy reverbed down strumming on the guitar and drum sequences reminiscent of Joy Division. A twangy guitar note shifts the song into a verse of snare-hitting, rousingly girlish but not-so-innocent vocals and jangly guitar riffs.
Wagner’s guitar-playing throughout The Raveonette’s discography is worthy of attention, an iconoclastic mix of the sweet catchiness of radio-friendly ’50s and ’60s tunes, ’70s Link Wray dirtiness, and the fuzzed-out melodic noisiness of ’80s Jesus and Mary Chain’s brothers William and Jim Reid. The only modern touch to The Raveonette’s album is precisely the mix.
The album is a dazed nod to Sonic Youth’s “Daydream Nation”, but while that album is experimental and expansive, “Lust, Lust, Lust” unapologetically mixes the same elements over 14 songs. If “Daydream Nation” is a grab bag filled with different gems, “Lust, Lust, Lust” is one black romance-gone-sour confection after another.
One could complain that “Lust, Lust, Lust” feels overburdened, but that criticism misses the point of The Raveonette’s albums. The songs are mood pieces ““ none of their structures shift away from retro and darkly catchy, and the lyrical narratives all dissolve into nothingness. It does not matter. “Lust, Lust, Lust” manages to serve the moment again and again like the best broken record ever released.
Listening to “Lust, Lust, Lust” inspires a cinematically self-conscious feeling of being in the throes of a broken relationship. The album isn’t classically rock. Not every song tries to set a melodic precedent, nor is the album even similar to other atmospheric albums such as My Bloody Valentine’s “Loveless” or “Isn’t Anything,” which demand attention with their singularly dissonant pop songs. “Lust, Lust, Lust” can be played in the background, content to fill up space, but it is best heard loud ““ very loud.
““ Natalie Edwards
E-mail Edwards at nedwards@media.ucla.edu.