“Dead Sound” — The Raveonettes (2007) A Tune Musings Review
Tune Musings is a regular series where a lifelong audiophile shares, dissects, and reviews lesser-known, beautiful music.
What is the first thing you hear when listening to a new song? Is it the music or the lyrics? Are you taken by the sound montage created by the instruments, or do you focus on the words intoned by the singer(s)?
Aside from those particular tunes whose openers are purely vocalized (ex: “Feeling Good” by Nina Simone or Bon Jovi’s “You Give Love a Bad Name”), I always pay close attention to the sound of the music first; lyrics, while essential, are secondary. I think my brain is engineered to fully absorb the tidal waves of harmonic data being flung my way from the speakers before I can even register the presence of lyrics.
A case in point is The Raveonettes’ 2007 single “Dead Sound” (from the LP Lust Lust Lust). The first time I was presented with this song, my ear drums burned with piqued curiosity. I stopped in my tracks and devoted 100% of my energy to figuring out what this beautiful mess was that I was hearing. I couldn’t possibly negotiate the lyrical meaning of the song while being pummeled by the fuzz party shrieking around my skull.
For me, when a song achieves peak original “sound” status (like “Dead Sound” does), its instrumental language completely supersedes the lyrical content.
I have always dug Denmark’s Raveonettes’ sound as much as their coolly crafted identity. Sune Rose Wagner (guitar, vocals) and Sharin Foo (bass, vocals) have managed to create a sound that blends the dregs-of-society weirdness of White Light/White Heat-era Velvets with the shimmering vocal harmonies of the Everly Brothers, all casually tied together with shades of stoic Scandinavian aloofness.
Like their obvious influences (*cough* Lou Reed *cough*), Wagner and Foo tend to ground their music in song settings not often suitably fit for mass consumption (murder, suicide, drugs, lust, crime). Their songs juxtapose the structural and chordal simplicity of 1950s and 1960s rock with intense electric instrumentation, driving beats, and healthy dollops of noise.
The end product is something that is uniquely Raveonettes. “Dead Sound” itself sounds as if the Velvet Underground had decided to replace Nico with a soprano, moved to Los Angeles, and discovered surfing.
After the initial buildup of feedback, Wagner and Foo’s guitars noisily kick open the doors, maintaining a healthy layer of fuzz over the quick-step, surfy beat. The duo sings the entire length of “Dead Sound” together in a seamless cohesion, and the vocalized effect is not unlike hearing two robots contemplating the nature of their existence for the first time.
The chorus, when all instrumentation is abruptly halted save for the electronic organ and subtle beat, ranks as one of my all-time fave musical moments: Wagner and Foo deathly repeat “dead sound” as the organ dances in a macabre carousel swirl.
The guitar solo, ragin’ full-on with hang ten energy, could have been swindled right from a Dick Dale or Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet record. I don’t know where in Copenhagen Wagner learned his surf rock licks, but his guitar work sounds as genuine as anything created in Southern California.
The Raveonettes end the song almost the same way they begin it: with a short hypnotic loop of feedback that switches off abruptly like a light switch. It’s a messy and sudden conclusion to a thrilling, dissonant ride.
“Dead Sound” is anything but. It is a devastatingly pretty romp that proves noise, structured or not, is music too.
