Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Jon Shumann and Matt Oliver, Mastered by Sam Patlove
The Raveonettes make you woozy in a hurry. They dunk your head under the water and when you open your eyes, you sort of realize - after some of the panic has worn off - that you're able to stay down there for a while. You actually want to stay down there a while. You can operate and the view, while murky, is interesting. Your head's boarded up. The ears are keeping out what they need to keep out, but there's that sensation of being surrounded and everything happening at a lesser volume, all the while there's a roaring sound cocooning it all. It's softened madness wrapped in the real madness of the untamed water.
The Danish duo of guitarist/multi-instrumentalist/singer Sune Rose Wagner and bassist/guitarist/singer Sharin Foo seem to love playing in these places where it's possible to rummage around for quite a little time and progress only so far. It's this slow progression, along with heaps and heaps of layers of adjacent timbres and tempers - all of which make a swarming and imposing overall feel - that makes them a rock and roll group that forces you to study that lead pit in the bottom of your stomach, or those deep, dark secrets that you've been keeping away from everyone but yourself. These are those things that you know about yourself that no one else gets to see. They are the rumbling little thoughts that you think as you're walking around that give you pause and make you wonder, "What the hell is wrong with me?" Everyone has them, we would like to believe, but there's really no way to know because those are the ones that no one lets get out of doors. "My Tornado" is a song that brings these two aspects together. They are the hidden yearnings and those dark notions, along with the slivers of revelation that can't help but slip out, whether you'd like them to or not. Foo and Wagner sing about their tornado, or all the shit that's raging around inside of them. It's all the jacked up stuff that we tend to want to bury, with no gravestone or marker for later detection. Sometimes there's just no helping it though and it comes churning out, like an oil spill, like Tourettes. They sing about being hard to love and hard to leave. It doesn't leave much room for anything but a wash of turmoil. They're happy to ablige.