May 29, 2002 -- Slim's in San Francisco, California (USA) by Tony Hicks for Contra Costa Times
Then again, don't bother -- they're going to tell you anyway. And the more they told the jam-packed crowd at Slim's on Wednesday night, the more it sank in: Not only do these guys rock, but they're regular comedians, too.
"It is my birthday today," singer Howlin' Pelle Almqvist told the crowd, after they slammed through the first three songs in something like 19 seconds. "I am now 24 years of pure genius."
Let's not forget invincible. The Hives are young, well-dressed punk rockers who barreled out of Sweden while still in their teens in the mid-'90s. Tongues have been planted firmly in cheek ever since, which totally magnifies the effect when they singe your eyebrows with shock wave after shock wave of power chords.
Thursday's show was a wonderful 45 minutes long -- just enough to leave you wanting a bit more without being worn down by the attitude. Almqvist is almost too good to be true; a blurred, Jagger-ish whip of constant motion on-stage, delivering screeching vocals like Johnny Rotten, only with the face of an underwear model.
Clad in uniformed black outfits with white cravats, the other four members (with names like Chris Dangerous on drums and Dr. Matt Destruction on bass) follow Almqvist's deadpan yet frenzied lead. It was so easy to get caught up in the pace.
Even Almqvist's streaming dialogue between every song moved to a jackhammer beat. These guys are in a hurry to get to the land of celebrity, and they're not afraid to say so.
"I know you people are trying to act cool," Almqvist said, in an accented, almost robotic delivery. "But I know you love the Hives. So you might as well say so." He paused to lower his voice. "This is what I call the quiet part of the show, where I establish we have the crowd in the palm of our hand."
He went on to outline exactly what would happen with the next song (quiet lead-in, big finish), which happened to be the jet-driven "Hate to Say I Told You So."
"Now let your hair down, or whatever you hippies call it," Almqvist added.
This approach is akin to a tough guy calmly diagramming a bar fight to his opponent before throwing any punches, because he knows it doesn't matter. When all's said and done, he knows he'll be the last one standing.
"This is the part of the show where we're saying something," Almqvist commented later, during what may or may not have been an unscheduled break due to technical difficulties. "Because something is broken. Because we're such intense performers."
Things got fixed quickly, as the band wasted no time careening right into "Knock Knock," then "Main Offender," both from the latest CD, "Veni Vidi Vicious." The record was originally released in 2000 on punk label Epitaph, recently rereleased by Warner Bros.
The major exposure is paying off. Slim's was packed with scenesters and local musicians (among others, all four of the Donnas walked in just before the Hives went on). People could practically smell that this is the beginning of something. Such a combination of music, personality and looks is rare, even among bands trying on the next-big-thing label.
That the band could use a few more hooks mixed in with the limitless energy and attitude wasn't easily apparent -- at least, not to the band. They were too busy being young rock stars.
"The Hives are getting ready to perform their last number," Almqvist said, as if he were doing baseball play-by-play. "You get to decide if we play another or walk offstage."
After a monstrous version of "Supply and Demand," the crowd indeed earned the band's attention one last time, as they walked back onto the stage like triumphant Roman gladiators doused in adulation, before playing fast versions of "Here We Go Again," and "A.K.A. I-D-I-O-T."
"I know and you know and I know that we rock," Almqvist asked. "Yes?"
Absolutely.
