THE HIVES & BAD NERVES
The Hives still deliver the goods to a rocking LCR.
I like my garage rock but somehow the whole late nineties/early noughties revival in general passed me by. I’ve been persuaded to come down to the LCR tonight by a mate whose judgement is usually spot on. He tells me that back in ’08 The Hives played the best set he had ever seen at this venue so expectations are high.
Maybe it is the length of the queue to get in, maybe it is the seemingly interminable time between doors opening and the show starting, maybe it is a mix that steamrollers any possible nuance or originality into oblivion but Essex Powerpop punk ‘n’ rollers BAD NERVES don’t really excite me. I can’t fault either the energy or the commitment and they seem to have a fair few fans in the audience but I can hear absolutely nothing new or original here. I’ve heard the (slightly) faster, (slightly) heavier take on the Ramones and Heartbreakers done more times that I’d care to remember and done a lot better: Cerebral Ballzy, anyone? There’s a lot of scissors kicks and jumping around, USA sounds like a UK Subs outtake and a new song sounds like Sham 69 b-side.
Bassist Jonathan Poulton is clearly going for the Sid Vicious look, complete with a padlocked chain around the neck but the band’s image in general is more than a little late-80s unsigned-bands-at-the-Marquee-sleaze-rockers-without-the-eye-liner – not necessarily a bad thing but combine this with the sound and I’m reminded of the (mostly) unremembered likes of The Pleasure Victims or Tattooed Love Boys. For all that, I can’t help but think Bad Nerves will be a decent band in a smaller venue with a more sympathetic sound and they do a decent job of warming up those in the audience that are perhaps a bit less jaded than me.
THE HIVES have a lot to live up to. Can they deliver? Well, my mate says it wasn’t as brilliant as the show he caught the best part of sixteen years ago but confides that this may be down to his increasing, ahem, maturity and lifestyle changes. As for me, this isn’t the best set I have seen here but, a few niggles aside, The Hives certainly do deliver. And then some.
There are people that love vocalist Howlin' Pelle Almqvist and those that find him annoying beyond belief. For me, the arrogance and self-belief shown by the garage rock Michael McIntyre (or is it only me that sees that?) are part of a stage persona that is thoroughly entertaining. It certainly makes a welcome change from those front-people that mumble apologetically or – worse still – say nowt between songs. I can see that it can irritate but jeez this is rock ‘n’ roll we’re talking about here – remember when that was entertaining?
Guitarists Nicholaus Arson and Vigilante Carlstroem take the garage rock template and inject just enough modernity to keep it contemporary without compromising the integrity. Bassist the Johan and Only is absolutely rock solid – he keeps things anchored in a way that is difficult to define but would be very noticeable if it wasn’t there. Drummer Chris Dangerous (the garage rock Keir Starmer, or is it only me that sees that?) is also rock solid but there’s some flash in there too. The stick twirling and tossing has to be seen to be believed (even if a stick did get dropped, which an evil part of me always loves to see).
From the intro tape of Chopin’s Funeral March, through the seventeen (I think) song main set and three song encore, there is absolutely no let up until the outro tape of Carly Simons’ Nobody Does It Better. The set takes in songs from five of the band’s albums – only debut Barely Legal isn’t represented – along with two standalone singles. The band have their sound – nasty garage rock with HUGE choruses – and don’t stray from it. There’s no ballads here! And thanks the way this audience likes it. That said, Stick Up and I'm Alive add a swaggering glam stomp and Come On! is ferocious.
As for the niggles, they’re mostly out of the band’s control. I mean, it isn’t their fault that the same few people kept barging past on their way to and from the bar. I can’t blame the band for the chap who decided that the best way to move me out of his was when he ran to the pit was an elbow to the head. And it certainly isn’t their fault that the person near me who screamed along to every song - word perfectly - had the singing voice of a tortured cat. For me, some of the breaks in the songs and some of the between song chat did go on a little too long and maybe, just maybe, a touch of variety in the style might not have gone amiss. Not for the first time and not for the last, I suspect that I may be alone in those thoughts.
Howlin' Pelle may personally think that every song is fucking amazing. I wouldn’t go quite that far but, all in all, a damned fine night that shows that guitar rock is still very much alive and well.
