Between two distant worlds, between loner lyricism and a playful love of theory, unfolds the wide realm of LUISE POP. Rock’n'roll rubbing up against rigid electronics in a cascading melody of fireworks, surf noir banging against synth sounds in brilliant Technicolor as if The Drums, Le Tigre, Patti Smith and New Order would meet for a moonlight serenade at the Carnival of Souls. But beyond coquettish post-punk coolness we hear an echo of the Golden Age, in which a pop song could lift the world off its hinges in two and a half minutes. An intensity of the unfinished, more James Dean than Grace Kelly, more camp than glamour, a slackerish elegance of the ephemeral, paying hommage to the Dada Baroness: ‘’we love you like hell.’’ How do we know that heaven and hell are the same place? The difference lies in the heart of the beholder.