Danish rock 'n' roll duo consisting of Sune Rose Wagner (on guitar, instrumentation and male vocals) and Sharin Foo (on bass and female vocals). Their music is characterized by close two-part vocal harmonies, coupled with hard-edged electric guitar overlaid with liberal doses of noise. Their songs juxtapose the structural and chordal simplicity of 50s and 60s rock with intense electric instrumentation, driving beats and often dark lyrical content. 

They rarely deviate from their primary influences (an equal and abiding love of the Ronettes and Suicide) or their aesthetic (black and white, leather jackets). If there’s an overarching theme to the Raveonettes’ 2016, it’s what their heroes the Jesus and Mary Chain would call “making love on the edge of a knife”: relationships filled with pain and dysfunction, verging on the non-consensual. Beneath the rippling harmonic flourishes of July’s “Where Are You Wild Horses” lies sorrow and self-loathing; April’s “Junko Ozawa,” a clever, chiptune-inspired sonic tribute to a respected composer of Japanese arcade music, is on its surface a tragedy: “So I know / That you been cheating with my friend / Prepare to die / Prepare for war.”

They rarely deviate from their primary influences (an equal and abiding love of the Ronettes and Suicide) or their aesthetic (black and white, leather jackets). They’re also prolific: Besides seven studio albums, their back catalog is also littered with cover compilation contributions, a 2008 trio of digital EPs, a Wagner solo album entirely in Danish, and a Christmas single from The O.C. you’ll even hear in the wild once in awhile. It’s not easy to stand out amid so much material. Even dedicated Raveonettes fans likely missed some of the songs the band released once a month during 2016—not least because the collection, 2016 Atomized, won’t be released in one package until this Friday, April 21. If there’s an overarching theme to the Raveonettes’ 2016, it’s what their heroes the Jesus and Mary Chain would call “making love on the edge of a knife”: relationships filled with pain and dysfunction, verging on the non-consensual. Beneath the rippling harmonic flourishes of July’s “Where Are You Wild Horses” lies sorrow and self-loathing; April’s “Junko Ozawa,” a clever, chiptune-inspired sonic tribute to a respected composer of Japanese arcade music, is on its surface a tragedy: “So I know / That you been cheating with my friend / Prepare to die / Prepare for war.”