Since 2002, The Raveonettes have been knocking our socks off with their unique blend of 50s motorcycle cool, 60s girl group pop, and smutty guitar fuzz. It’s hard to believe that their debut EP, “Whip It On”, is already seven years old, but the Raveonettes have never been the kind of band that shoves their successes in our faces. They seem to just quietly go about their business and – a rarity in the music world – keep getting better and better. With last month’s release of their fourth full-length album (not to mention a goodly handful of EPs and one-off singles), In And Out Of Control, it seemed a good time to look back at their career and pick out their single best song so far. (As always, we encourage you to make your own choice in the comments, in 100 words or less.)

aDawgg:

What happens when modern alternative music is made to live in Phil Spector’s basement like one of those feral children we read about in the National Enquirer? The Raveonettes. And that is a good thing for the music world. The Raveonettes manage to stand at the singularity where the past, present, and future of music are compressed into something utterly unique and potentially threatening to the universe, like a black hole. “Boys Who Rape” is their finest effort yet in the way it is both sickeningly sweet and intensely menacing. Just like that feral child you have in your basement.

Bean:

In an unprecedented move, I’ve picked a song that’s only been around a month over favorites that have been spinning in my stereo for years. Although I normally prefer the darker side of The Raveonettes (“Aly, Walk With Me” and “Somewhere In Texas” were my runners-up), “Bang!” had my full attention from the first few seconds. Sounding like an after-school visit to the malt shop combined with a touch of cheeky sluttiness and the most danceable and sing-a-long-able chorus since Spector’s gals were the biggest thing on the radio, “Bang!” is where The Raveonettes truly perfected their signature sound.

Tamboosh:

The Raveonettes are often described to have that famous Phil Spector wall of sound. I think they sound more like the wall is being pounded into a bloody pulp by zombies and mole people. In a post-apocalyptic world where our worst nightmares walk among us and our safe haven is a fifties diner, The Raveonettes are all the jukebox will play to underscore our misery and stolen moments of cautious joy. This disturbing yet sensual song about sin and doom will be playing when the ghouls finally fight their way through our barricaded doors and drag us to hell.