The Hives Brixton Academy, London written by Rose Dennen, May 4, 2002
When they were 16 years old they started a band. They swallowed every piece of rock'n'roll that came their way in the unlikely location of small-town Fagersta, Sweden, and it started to ooze out of them and into their amps. They still use tracks they wrote way back then ('A.K.A I.D.I.O.T') and for me all of it sounds like the '50s' and '80s eras that I missed, with all the innovation, intelligence, pouting sex and cataclysmic joy that it once embodied.
When my favourite bands were around and touring, I wasn't just barely legal, I wasn't old enough to read. I wasn't old enough to bleed! When I was a teenager, the only bands still going that I liked were Nirvana and The Smashing Pumpkins. I never thought I'd see The Cramps, Dead Kennedys or The Ventures. I never thought I'd experience the ripped raw sound that came with these bands.
But, tonight, I've found my new favourite band. These suited and booted Swedish uber-stars are the flesh and bone of a fantastic era of music that I thought was a corpse. Revived on stage under a Las Vegas-esque sign of the band's name in showgirl-bulbs, they strut like black and white grinning peacocks, eyes wide and arms stretched open to take in the adulation of their fans. The circus that is The Hives is nothing less than a grand exaltant show that gives back every penny you spent on the ticket.
Their latest single, as y'all gotta know by now, is the theme to Kylie's panties ad and is on every self-respecting radio station's play list and is called 'Main Offender'. It wrenched an abrupt, unanimous roar from the crowd the moment it passed the luscious lips of lead singer Howlin' Pelle Almqvist in his obligatory introduction (every song had a playful, haughty, breathlessly hoarse intro, every band member had several).
The surprise though, was that every single song was met with absolute, crap-yourself madness. 'Here We Go Again' had every mouth open, screaming hysterically, ecstatic with the gymnastic abilities of Almqvist and lead guitarist (and Pelle's brother) Nichaulas Arson, two deranged ballerinas in black suits, holding nothing back in a display of obvious, joyous punk oblivion.
'Die! Alright!' almost got me a trip to the medical room as I was thrust and held, tits hanging over the side, ribs at braking point, against the metal security rail by the crazy gibbering cross-section of every class and clique in London, all of them trying their utmost to get nearer to these high-kickmeisters on stage.
The few times Almqvuist jumped off the stage and stepped up to the barriers, a thousand hands threw themselves out of the crowd to manhandle this vibrating maelstrom of Howlin' song. Mine right with them.
At 'Hail! Hail! Spit & Drool' I almost garrotted someone behind me as I lost all self-control and thrashed about like an AWOL washing machine while staring unblinking at Pelle who flung himself to the floor and back up again while simultaneously catching his microphone stand with his foot, all this while still performing, never breaking a note.
So, raise your black and white pom-poms and cheer for my new favourite band and yours. Maybe you'll get one of their ties or guitars as they throw them into the crowd. Maybe security won't take them off you.
As Almqvist says, "This is for us, this is for fun, this is for you".
by Dave Jackson from musik
Anyone who knows me or has read stuff I've written on this very site or in the forum knows my feelings on the Hives. The way they present themselves in public, their every word spoken to the press, their response to the NME's dirt-digging, the damn suits… these guys have done it all so right.
In the eight months since I first heard "Main Offender", the energy and sheer joy that I get out of their EVERY song just increases with every listen. I love The Hives.
The Bellrays are funky rock and roll with Tina Turner on vocals. Sorry, I know everyone says that about her, but everything from her hair to her belting vocals to the way she bumps and grinds the rest of her band… pure Turner. They put on a great show and this is the way to start this kind of party.
4/5
The Buff Medways look like they've just walked off the photo shoot for the Sergeant Pepper's cover. And their drummer looks like the one without the moustache from Hale and Pace. With the crowd SO alive and awake after the Bellrays, this is a real downer. The fact that Billy Childish is the frontman seems to go un-noticed by the majority of the Academy and they're so visably phased that it's almost embarrassing. This is garage rock suited more to the Monarch sized venues and they don't do themselves any favours. When they do a White Stripes cover, it's so limp in comparison to the original it was barely worth them plugging in. If they even had to be on this bill, they should have opened.
1/5
The frontman of TSOOL might actually be Jesus. He certainly believes it, especially as he looks like the lovechild of JC and Elvis Presley, with long beard and bulging beergut. Spacerock does indeed work well in such a venue as this and for a while, it's very transfixing considering there are seven-odd members to the band. But it grates very soon when you realise that he's in fact NOT Jesus (or is he? No) and that the posing from the guitarists is generally to cover up their lack of co-ordination. If you're not in a very alert state of mind, this is probably very soothing. But even after the Snooze Bedways, everyone's still awake from the Bellrays.
2/5
After TSOOL hover off stage, Howlin' Pelle strolls across the stage in jeans and a jumper. Kurt Cobain could have walked across the stage at this point and got a quieter cheer. Pelle stops walking and surveys the crowd.
He breaks character and breaks into an enormous grin, then looks back at his feet and walks off stage. So they ARE real people.
The Hives are a ferocious live band and to say Pelle knows how to work a crowd is as much of an understatement as saying Axl Rose is taking his time on the new Gn'R album. This is a real show of pure entertainment. Although this is a very similar set to that of the other times I've seen them, they have only got more energetic, even tighter, more crazy. You can tell that they're having the time of their lives.
If there's any fault in the Hives as a live band, it's that they don't vary enough. The same songs are aired each time in pretty much the same order as the last time. And the time before. Rarer live songs such as "Untutored Youth" are explosive and Pelle's spasmodic rant in the middle is just genius as he clearly can't shout the English this fast. "Main Offender" sounds fresher than when I first heard it on record all those months ago. "Declare Guerra Nuclaire" will always get the room off their feet. "Statecontrol" is man's comeback at feminism screamed by a man for whom these problems are no longer relevant (ok, so I'm reading FAR too much into it but whatever). "Automatic Schmuck" was missed and I'll never be happy until they play "Closed For The Season" but this really doesn't matter.
This band clearly loves playing live and gets off from the energy of the crowd. I'm tempted to say that they're at the peak of their powers, but who knows? They haven't even recorded any new songs for almost two years! When a large proportion see the Hives at the Carling Weekend this summer, many will not be won over by Pelle's antics and will mistranslate his attempts to get the crowd to have as much fun as possible, as just being arrogant.
These songs are about winning and the happiness of just being alive.
After I hear the Hives, and even more so after I see them live, I feel happy that there are bands enjoying this world for the right reasons and I feel alive.
5/5
by Jessica Hodges from Popmatters
There are two things you should know before reading this review. One, when Poptones released Your New Favourite Band I bought it and bought in. Two, this is the first gig I have actually purchased tickets for in eons… and I bought them three months ago, shortly after purchasing my new CD. Anyone reading this on Popmatters has, at one time or another, surely felt jaded. Too many bad gigs, too many pushy crowds, too much spilled beer. No, this does not mean I stopped seeing live music, it just means I usually only go if I'm comped. That may make me old, but it also makes me picky so when I say the show was good, you can know it means something.
The recent onslaught of derivative retrogressive rock has revived many an old rock fan like me. Nu-metal was getting a lot of us down. The joy of hearing proper punk undertones played by young kids thrills 30 something London. The open arms embrace which bands like the Strokes and the White Stripes have been greeted with has no doubt be extended to the Hives and should be extended to their special guests as well.
Opening the show at Brixton was the prog/punk rock fusion that is The Soundtrack of Our Lives (TSOOL). I know, I know that is an oxymoron. Punk was the answer to Prog, right? But there is a new generation in town. Dare I say it is the late Gen Xers with our multi-media capabilities that allow for such a contradiction to come together? Rock history is not being rewritten; it is just being re-lived.
Those of us too young to have seen the Big Rock or the Punk Rock shows of the '70s may feel we missed something crucial. But the sound and the feel -- or at least the nostalgia for those times -- can now be indulged. I heard some one say that The Soundtrack of Our Lives are doing for the '70s what Oasis did for the '60s. They are too right. Let's just hope their egos don't eat them the way the G brothers' have.
The six-man band, lead by a big hairy man (Ebbot Lundberg) wearing a muumuu, played a short and sweet set featuring their Big Rock tunes "21st Century Rip Off", "Sister Surround" and air-guitar must "Intra Riot". The rock star vogue-ing of guitarist Ian Persson increased the need to shake hair and play air. Drum sticks twirled and for a moment Brixton Academy was transformed into an arena. Could the Hives, with their own band of retro-fusion, follow up?
Oh, yes, baby.
It is of a different flavour, but the derivative sound of "Supply and Demand", and "a.k.a I-D-I-O-T" was satisfying live. Their UK release, a combination of three previous releases from Burning Hearts Records, takes derivative rock to a new level. Listening straight through you can hear the Stooges, Bad Religion, and Dick Dale. But, unlike the Strokes and often the White Stripes, the polish they have put on those sounds makes the music new and fresh, and undeniably theirs. Their use of theatre and humour, in everything they do, assures they won't be mistaken for wanna-bes or tribute artists. They know what they are doing and their purpose justifies the use of past sounds. The Hives may wear their influences on their well-tailored sleeves, but it never feels like a copy.
What they lacked live was a depth to their sound, which TSOOL seem to have mastered. But while TSOOL's sound evoked nostalgia for a time and a place, the Hives set evoked nostalgia for their very own album. It was as if they wanted us to taste the goods, but know we could only get more at home.
Lead singer Howlin Pelle Almqvist made up for any lack of phat sound with his commanding presence, self-promoting crowing, and spastic Jagger strutting. There was no need for fancy staging. The band was the spectacle in their black shirt and white ties with their name hanging over them in lights. It is obvious they love themselves and they knew we were there to love them too.
The most breath taking moment of the show was a full stop in the middle of big hit "Main Offender". The band froze and the light dropped and with only a hint of smoke surrounding them, this Swedish band created an incredible picture on stage. The acknowledgment of the power of an image in a raw live set was breath taking. I for one have never seen a band use their live show to promote a visual image in quite the same way. The final number, "Hate to Say I Told You So" left me gasping but satisfied. .
With tongues firmly in their cheeks, the Hives gave London what it wanted on a Saturday night and they did not try for more. The short set, like their short album, suits them. They wound the London audience up, but did not take the piss. They gave us the hits and not much more. They walked off satisfied and sent us home smiling.
