The Fredösphere

Of all the threats to America's standing in the world, is there any more profound than Scandinavian rock? Never mind the deficit or the state of math and science education. The Nordic countries are full of people with better looks, English and nightlife than you, and they're moving aggressively in music's markets of cool. Soon it will be impossible to put together an indie-movie soundtrack without them.

Take the Raveonettes, the Danish duo last seen encouraging '60s pop to hop on the back of garage-rock's motorcycle and go do something sleazy under the pier. Ringleader Sune Rose Wagner has a more unwholesome obsession with Buddy Holly, surf guitar, '50s sci-fi, and the opus of Phil Spector than anyone from Copenhagen ought to. His 6-foot-tall, part-Asian co-conspirator, Sharin Foo, looks and sounds like Persian-cat-stroking mastermind Ernst Stavro Blofeld's ultimate revenge on James Bond.

When they give a final requiem for traditional masculinity, they could do worse than to hire Il Divo. The toothsome singers of the "popera" quartet, whose eponymous album debuted at No. 4 on the U.S. Billboard album chart(and is No. 8 this week), specialize in music that is earnest but unthreatening. The cover of their hit album shows them with roses in the lapels of their dark Italian suits, and inside, their photographs have an androgynous purity, with bright eyes wide open, pools to swim but not drown in.