The Raveonettes, Academy, Manchester<br></br>Interpol, Academy, Birmingham
Thrilling acts of Danish vandalism
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Your support makes all the difference."Everyday, it's a-getting closer..." The Raveonettes' Sharin Foo, who is blonde in that pure, un-dyed way that only Scandinavian people can be, saunters onstage.
"Going faster than a rollercoaster..." There's an ungodly wall of feedback howling around her ears, but she seems oblivious, singing some silly melody as if it isn't there. "Love like yours will surely come my way..." She plugs in her bass and joins in the discord. "Hey, a-hey-hey..." You finally realise what she's been doing. The first number in the super-cool, sonically streamlined Raveonettes' set is "Everyday" by Buddy Holly and the Crickets.
It's an unlikely introduction to what will be a set of the kind of noise nihilism we haven't heard since the early days of the Jesus And Mary Chain. (Please pretend Black Rebel Motorcycle Club never existed. That's what I'm doing.) And yet, in a way, it makes perfect sense. While Sune Rose Wagner holds one palm flat on the frets and his other hand scratches the strings with wrist-blurring speed, Foo's low-slung surf riffs (Sharin effectively plays "lead bass") and the pair's quasi-girl group harmonies remind you that this band are rooted in pop classicism.
The Danish duo's melody/noise combination fits together like bricks of Lego. The Raveonettes are doing the same things with the girl group sound that the Mary Chain did with the Beach Boys: thrilling acts of vandalism.
Every song is in the same key and chord structure and, as with the mini-album Whip It On, their set flies past in a linear continuum (not a criticism). As they leave, drummer Jakob Hoyer beats out a "Be My Baby" riff, and Sharin sings that Buddy Holly song one more time. Suddenly you realise it's a simple question of pop mathematics: "Rave On" + The Ronettes = The Raveonettes.
Here are the young men, the weight on their shoulders... This year's NME tour features The Datsuns, The Polyphonic Spree and The Thrills: three bands who, to a greater or lesser degree, are endeavouring to uplift the human spirit and increase the amount of happiness in the world. It also features Interpol. In 1980, with the Russian invasion of Afghanistan, the sabre-rattling of Margaret Thatcher's Conservative government and the imminent rise of Reagan, there was a tangible and pervasive sense of nuclear doom which found expression, consciously or unconsciously, in the music of bands like Joy Division. In 2003, with a similar backdrop of looming apocalypse, bands like Interpol are sounding strangely right.
Along with the rest of the Manchester school of alienated, long-raincoated introspection (Magazine, Chameleons, Durutti Column), Joy Division are the band to whom Interpol are most frequently compared. And correctly so: singer Paul Banks's voice carries the same latently epileptic quiver of dread as did Ian Curtis's, and you can't tell me it's coincidental and not studied.
The word "interpolation" is one you read a lot on hip-hop sleeves. "Gangsta's Paradise" by Coolio features an interpolation of "Pastime Paradise" by Stevie Wonder, that sort of thing. It means "to change or falsify (a text) by introducing new or incorrect material." This is what Interpol do. They Interpol-ate.
Visually, Interpol are a damn sight smarter than their Mancunian ancestors, or even their New York peers. Bassist Carlos D wears a suit so tight that it appears to have been painted onto his naked body, in the manner of the model Veroushka on the sleeve of the first Suede single (and ironically bears a strong facial resemblance to Justine Frischmann). His bandmates are scarcely less sharply-tailored. Preppy as hell, Interpol look like The Strokes' smarter, better-dressed siblings. Ties are fastened, top buttons done up.
Elastica and The Strokes are also valid musical references: one song has the same brutal riff as the former's "Connection" (or, let's face it, Wire's "I Am The Fly"), while another uses a similar false stop to the latter's "Hard To Explain".
I'd been saving up the refrain from "NYC" – "somehow I'm not impressed" – for a smartarse dismissal, but I can't, because ultimately, I am. Interpol aren't the future of rock but, as someone once sang, it's not the end of the world.
The Raveonettes: Little Civic, Wolverhampton (01902 552121), Mon; King Tut's, Glasgow (0141 221 5279), Tue; Newcastle Uni (0191 233 0444), Wed; Leeds Uni (0114 245 5570), Sat; Soundhaus, Northampton (01604 250898), 9 Feb; and touring. NME Tour: Leeds Met Uni (0113 244 4600), Mon; Rock City, Nottingham (0115 941 2544), Tue; UEA, Norwich (01603 508050), Wed; Pyramid, Portsmouth (023 9235 8608), Fri; Cardiff Uni (029 2078 1458), Sat; Astoria, London WC2 (020 7434 9592), 9 Feb
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