The Raveonettes - Peʻahi

The Raveonettes
Peʻahi
22 July 2014
The Beat Dies

4 stars out of 5

 

Denmark’s favourite peddlers of bubble gum noise-pop The Raveonettes surprise release their seventh album, having neither pre-announced its existence nor done any promotion prior to it appearing in shops. The album is the result of the duo of Sune Rose Wagner and Sharin Foo’s immersion in Southern California surf culture; the title refers to a famous surfing spot on Maui (that in the off season is a good place to score meth or get yourself murdered, apparently). Brace yourself: The Raveonettes have succeeded in recreating the roar of the surf of Hawaii and California through layers of bit-crushed guitars and seemingly dying electronics.

There’s some great melodies to be found here, all inspired by the early surf music scene of over fifty years ago, and all run through a series of machines that violently distort and mangle them until they come out at the other end sounding like broken robots. Consider yourself warned, people: the two horsemen of the apocalypse have brought their boards and are looking for the biggest waves, motherfuckers. Lyrically, the album is full of tales of anguish, dealing with death (Wagner’s father died suddenly just before writing and recording began), addiction, and infidelity (“one time I saw my dad fuck a redhead whore”).

Allegedly there are harps, strings, and large choirs contributing their sounds to Peʻahi, though after repeated listens only the strings manage to peek their heads out from the massive curtains of noise (“Wake Me Up”). In the end, Wagner and Foo bring all the noise they sound by themselves, with software providing drum beats and sound processing. The album ends with Wagner’s final commentary on his father’s death: “I hate your guts/Why don’t you just die?” Perhaps somewhat inappropriate for an epitaph, but very appropriate for the album of powerful rage and anguish that leads up to it.

reviewed by Richard Krueger