The Raveonettes may have written only a handful of distinct melodies in their career, but their presentation has given them the staying power. Their theatrical sense was there from the beginning-- we saw band members Sune Rose Wagner and Sharin Foo sitting on motorcycles on the cover of 2003's full-length debut, Chain Gang of Love, and a movie poster tableau for of 2005's dusky Pretty in Black-- but by their 2009 album, In and Out of Control, they had toned down the visuals and made their most aimless record to date.
In concept alone, then, the duo's fifth LP, Raven in the Grave, is a corrective step. The untangled pop of In and Out of Control has been reconfigured and dipped in black eyeliner as the Raveonettes veer toward 1980s goth. It's a canny move, since dark sounds and moods have been creeping back into indie after a long stretch of beach-obsessed escapism.
The thing is, darkness isn't the best look for the Raveonettes. The album title suggests a tongue-in-cheek approach, but this might be the band's most joyless release yet. It's not like they're missing the mark on their source material, either. The cloudy, Disintegration-like synths of "War in Heaven" and the metallic beat of "Apparitions" both suggest their comfort with this material. But there's none of the spiky propulsion that has marked their best music. In the case of one-two fizzle "Summer Moon" and "Let Me on Out", they seem to have completely forgotten to write melodies. And though lyrics have frequently been placeholders for these guys, the adapted angst on display here is an ill fit. There's a "War in Heaven", you see, because "I hate it/ When they forget/ To let people in." The problem in "Evil Seeds", on the other hand, is that rain causes the protagonist to "betray the ones I've come to love the most." These wasted words seem too shoddy even for the back of someone's spiral notebook.
There are spots where light shines in. Three songs, in fact, are among the strongest the Raveonettes have recorded, which makes the album seem like even more of a missed opportunity. Opener "Recharge & Revolt" is their most majestic shoegaze moment yet, while "Ignite" is a particularly sweet slice of 1990s alt rock, with a thrilling build and sweetly sung yet morbid chorus that suggests the band hasn't completely lost their sense of humor. Then there's "Forget That You're Young", which is hands-down the best song on the album and a true career high. It's always hard to tell with this pair, but the latter song comes over as honest and genuine, a potential new way forward for a band that could use one.
