These down-and-dirty Danes pay homage to some great ones.

Byline: Craig S. Semon

COLUMN: TRACKS

The Raveonettes

"Lust Lust Lust" (Vice)

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The Raveonettes get down and dirty ... in a good way ... on "Lust Lust Lust."

With a name that's a tongue-in-cheek reference to The Ronettes and Buddy Holly's

"Rave On," the Raveonettes (singer-guitarist Sune Rose Wagner and singer-bassist Sharin Foo) are minimalist masters of juxtaposition. They pay homage to The Everly Brothers and some of the great girl groups of the '60s with impeccable two-part harmonies combined with rockabilly, heavy reverb and white noise. On top of that are the unorthodox themes of passion, unhealthy obsessions and nervous breakdowns, which contrast sharply with their alluring vocals.

As the title suggests, the Danish duo's third disc taps into the dark recesses of lust ... the kind that ruins lives, clouds judgment and leaves a heap of emotional baggage. If you're expecting warm and fuzzy, be prepared for weird and fuzzed-out.

On the beguiling opener, "Aly, Walk with Me," Foo beckons, "Walk with me in my dreams/All through the night." With her voice shrouded in a cool, claustrophobic mix of shake-and-shimmy surf guitars and a propulsive, piston-popping bass line lifted from Bjork's "Army of Me," Foo is so bewitching that we would walk with her even if we knew she was leading us off a cliff. But before we totally lose ourselves in Foo's intoxicating vocals (which is easy to do), Wagner obliterates the dreamlike haze with a deafening burst of guitar dissidence. Sounding as if he has thrown his fuzzed-out Fender Jazzmaster into a deep fryer, Wagner takes a page out of the Velvet Underground playbook (which never goes out of style) that wonderfully heightens the coolness and drama.

Images of death and desire collide and become interchangeable on delirium-drenched "Hallucinations." The duo's hypnotic, coolly detached vocals boldly contrast with the unsettling sound of fuzzed-out guitar riffs and thump-heavy bass that seems to mimic a racing heartbeat. As the song steadily builds (and reveals how emotionally damaged Foo is), she coos, "In this tomb/I call love/I get so lonesome/With you/Or without you," while a cathartic burst of trembling guitars and booming drums accent her plight.

Foo's mind is all out of whack on "Lust." Summing up her tortured existence in a casual confession, Foo shrugs, "I fell out of heaven/To be with you in hell/My sins not quite seven/Nothing much to tell." Despite sounding detached and distant, she still sounds capable of much desire. As a result, it's hard not to be smitten by her dark allure, especially when her voice is rolling in a sweaty mix of chimy surf guitars, frenetic bass lines and clanky trashcan drums.

In case there was any doubt, Foo comes clean that she's not a day person on "Black Satin," an homage to seedy nightlife and skimpy black dresses. Except for the dark undercurrent of the narrative and some guitar fuzz around the edges, the song sounds like an irresistible '60s girl group throwback.

On "Blush," she plays a heartless femme-fatale that relishes the fact that she can still make her favorite prey fall for her charms. Foo seductively purrs, "Your trembling lips speak soundless grief/A lover's death/So tenderly/And all I want from/You is all I took." Despite this harsh revelation and a jarring mix of rumbling guitars and pummeling drums that dirties Foo's enticing but deceptive vocals, the listener can't help but be drawn to her.

From the hook-laden, bubblegum refrain to fuzzed-out guitars riffs, Wagner takes center stage on the naughty confectionary, "You Want the Candy." Asking for the listener to give him a "dirty treat," it's obvious that he's not talking about a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup that hit the floor. Sounding like a cross between the Archies' "Sugar, Sugar" and Jesus and Mary Chain's "Just Like Honey," "You Want the Candy" combines two great sounds that sound great together.

"The Beat Dies" is a dead ringer for a David Lynch soundtrack ... down to Foo's Julee Cruise impersonation, accompanying Angelo Badalamenti-inspired arrangement and spacey, "Twin Peaks"-style musings on love

that don't seem to make a heap of sense.

ART: PHOTO

CUTLINE: Sune Rose Wagner, left, and Sharin Foo of the Raveonettes.