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- Observator by The Raveonettes
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I love the sleeve for this, the photo looks like some I have in a cheesy ‘70s book of supernatural phenomena, the chapter on how sixties quantum-leaping Danish popsters the Raveonettes have blagged a successful decade-long career throughout the ‘00s and beyond merely by doing a spot of crafty post JAMC/shoegaze pop pastiche re-wiring is unbelievable reading I can tell thee. No, I don’t know how to review this record, they write some catchy little melancholic pop tunes do this duo but lack stylistic focus and any genuine identity, yet I adore the song ‘Curse the Night’, this critter being of particular note due to its early Tindersticks guitar chime and murky drum track, hear how the sad lady vocals veer between kittenish mew and breathy dream-like pity...like she’s playing two different people...wow! This tune is by far the best thing about side one so let’s, without any more pissing around, cross over to the other side...I wish I hadn’t bothered y’know. The sounds are all fine, the songs aren’t offensive or even that terrible you know, they’ve that head-noddy way with an authentic slice of jangle/strum pop infused with fey, nonchalant lyrics. But what does it mean to anyone when it’s just the same landfill retro shit that, say, Pains of Being Pure At Heart did so well on their debut? Who needs or wants a song such as ‘Downtown’ when, as melodically appealing as it undoubtedly is, it sounds like a rip-off of a fucking rip off? I can guarantee this song will be slaying indie discos in Hoxton or Shoreditch this autumn but will anyone dancing know who the hell they’re throwing themselves around to?
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