BY ZACH BLOOM

There's a ton of smoke and a noisy loop of guitars emitting from the P.A. as the lights dim. The band casual takes the stage in casual dress, as the loop gives way to the opening riff of "Gone Forever." It's the standout track on In And Out Of Control, the new album that sums up everything The Raveonettes have been about since their hasty inception some eight years ago.

Two things are most immediately clear as the rhythm section kicks in: theirs is a small, heavily-produced drum set (bass drum stood up like a floor tom with a tambourine attached, crash cymbal, snare) that replicates the lush "power drum" sound of the 80s, splashing with every snare hit; the other is that Sharin Foo is kind of impossibly pretty - in the ballpark of the best looking musician, period. What she does because of and in spite of her looks is the focal point of the show. No one in the audience is unaware of what she's doing or where's she's wandered off to - even (or especially) as she leans over to fiddle with her amp. Sune Rose Wagner, her male counterpart on vocals and guitar, wisely harbors no delusions of stealing the spotlight.

This is right where the Raveonettes should be. "Those were some from the vault," Foo remarks, following a string of older tunes ringing with fuzz and disaffected cool-this is highlighted by "Veronica Fever," off Whip It On, their debut mini LP. The bulk of the set, though, focuses on last years' distortion-soaked Lust Lust Lust and the new one-a bit of a redirect, veering away from the acoustic relaxation of 2005's Pretty In Black. The tender moments are meticulously placed to contrast against the ear-bleeding guitars, guaranteed to fill any vacancy. When both Foo and Wagner swap Jazzmasters (or are they Jaguars? Sue me, I can't always tell the difference) for tambourines on a stripped-down, inverted version of "Break Up Girls!," the stage feels incomplete. Playing with the crowd's anticipation, the two take their time in getting back to the guitars, swaying with the bass-line groove.

There's a scene in David Lynch's Fire Walk With Me when Laura and Donna go to an evil Canadian bar that's all strobe lights and blaring music that's probably supposed to sound like the Jesus & Mary Chain but isn't. It's a very Lynch theme, playing on the innocent memories of girl groups by corrupting it with modern noise. Employing a similar approach, "Boys Who Rape (Should All Be Destroyed)" and "Suicide" anchor the second half of set. Stripped of the dark themes and lines like "Your boyfriend's mean and your mom's a bitch," (or, "Those fuckers stay in your head") the tunes are a joyous romp, and The Raveonettes play it straight. There aren't belying smirks or self-conscious wisecracks. They write about the world they see, and everyone's part of it.