There’s always been something a little mannequin-like about The Raveonettes’ Sune Rose Wagner and Sharin Foo, and not just because of the duo’s aloof Danish poise. Or perhaps they should be accused of wearing someone else’s clothes, tailoring their catchy discontent from swatches of The Sonics’ unblinking fuzz, Suicide’s threadbare drum machines, The Shangri-Las’ stagy vocal play, plus the Jesus and Mary Chain/Primal Scream’s reverberating snarl. On their third full-length, The Raveonettes further perfect the play of coquettishly kittenish against feral, placing stony, come-hither harmonies atop variegated steam-value distortion. The pieces’ original designers no longer matter; The Raveonettes own the look.