Hype can be a dangerous thing. On one hand, you have the benefits of additional publicity and exposure; but on the other hand, you are monitored and criticized with the grueling expectations of demanding fans and cynical press alike. Having been hailed as one of the best live acts to ever grace the stage (Spin magazine ranked them 8th – one below Green Day and one above Prince – on their Top 25 Current Live Bands list a couple of years ago), I went into this show cautiously optimistic, trying not to let my hopes get the best of me. Overall The Hives met, and at times exceeded these hopes – albeit with some minor compromise.
If you've seen The Hives live before, or even if you've read about their performances, you already know the formula to follow in this paragraph: flamboyant The Hives frontman Pelle Almqvist struts his stuff up and down the stage (and surrounding areas), exchanging humorous banter with the crowd, all the while doing his best peacock impression; meanwhile, Almqvist's sidekick, guitarist Nicholaus Arson brings a more visceral presentation to the stage, sweat dripping from his curly blond shag and a much harder look on his face. The antics begin with Almqvist and end with Arson, which leads me to my only real criticism: the other three members become nearly invisible (with the occasional exception of drummer Christian Grahn). In saying that, not everyone can be as over the top and outwardly entertaining as Almqvist – in fact I'd have a hard time naming even a few people that are in the same league as the energetic, eccentric Swede (Iggy, perhaps?), so this is really less a slight on the band and more an acknowledgement of just how crazy Almqvist is. If he wasn't at the front of a stage he'd probably be in a padded room.
During their lengthy set (nearly two hours with encore), The Hives dipped into their entire discography, with a healthy helping from all five of their records. Both casual and hardcore fans seemed to be pleased with the selection, this one included (they played my personal favorite, the epic “Diabolic Scheme” off of Tyrannosaurus Hives). The intriguing thing about the crowd was the sheer diversity; a quick look around revealed teens, young kids with their parents, middle-aged couples, twenty-somethings, and just about every other demographic in existence, all bobbing their heads, tapping their feet and dancing and singing along – the entire theater was hanging off of Almqvist's every word, both in song and speech.
Almqvist likes to talk, and the crowd likes to listen to him talk. Here are just a few excerpts from his rants:
“We aren't from Winnipeg; we are from the country that steals all your good hockey players.” (Referring to their home, Sweden.)
“Maybe you misunderstood; I didn't say “request a song,” I said “ask a question.” (When telling the audience to ask a question and having one member start shouting song names in response)
“Do we want to come party at your house after the show? That's a very generous offer – we'll see how we're feeling [after the show].” (When another audience member asked if they wanted to party at his house)
Clad in their signature black and white matching outfits, with a neon red sign reading their band name hanging behind them, The Hives create an energy similar to that of a traditional magic show, with Almqvist casting visual spells on the attendees. With a sixty food mic cord at his disposal (he likes to throw the mic around a la Roger Daltrey), Almqvist is free to go anywhere and everywhere, often finding himself immersed in the crowd, and at one point even scaling several speakers and hanging from a second story balcony twenty feet in the air, much to the excitement of the crowd. Arson joined in on the insanity, slamming his guitar against a monitor and watching as it bounced of and hit the floor.
In between all the physical antics, The Hives hit every note and did not disappoint the ears. Their instrumentation was tight, and Almqvist’s wails exceeded the emotion of those found on the recordings. At one point, The Hives gave the audience a great visual treat, suddenly freezing mid-position, remaining that way for thirty-seven seconds (by my count), and simultaneously regaining motion. Special mention goes to Grahn who kept his arms perfectly still, raised in the air – not a simple feat.
Declaring “we are The Hives and we will live forever!” Almqvist creates a prophecy that just might have some truth behind it. With all the fly-by-night, one hit wonders showing up on our daily [MySpace] doorstep, it’s hard to take most current bands seriously when it comes to staying power; but judging by the diversity in the packed house, and the rabid cheers by old and young alike, it looks as though this fifteen year old band is just getting started. As The Hives finish their last song, Almqvist looks out to the screaming crowd, then, softly utters into his mic, “yes, it really is this good.” He slowly begins to exit the stage, but pauses to take it all in once more and, with a grin on his face, turns around, beating his chest to the rhythm of the crowd’s applause.
