The Hives at Ambassador, Dublin

Boom, Crash, Pow, Kaboom!
The Hives are back, and here’s what it boils down to: following the success of Franz Ferdinand, etc.,does The Hives’ rickety garage racket seem like artless posing in comparison? Would the jokers of the ‘not very new rock revolution’ pack turn out to be nothing more than a gimmick?
Well, not a whole lot has changed since the Your New Favourite Band compilation first brought them to the world’s attention. They still dress in the regulation suits (although the new models actually look somewhat shabbier than the last ones), and the manic energy and cocksure confidence is still there. And yes, Tyrannosaurus Hives is pretty much a xerox of the back-catalogue.
But this is a complaint that pales into insignificance when confronted with the thrills, spills and between-song banter of a Hives live show. Frontman Howlin’ Pelle Almqvist is his usual mike-throwing, high-kicking, shamelessly entertaining self, a man who will not rest until he has convinced you that his band are the only one you need to listen to.
“We know you’ve been listening to other bands behind closed doors”, he says in faux-ominous tones. “We forgive you for now, but do it again and we will destroy you”, before blasting into the opening chords of ‘Hate To Say I Told You So’, turning the pit into an even sweatier mass of pogoing bodies.
But despite the sculpted onstage antics they manage not to completely overshadow the actual songs. Their tunes remain gloriously ragged, rough diamond attacks on boredom and mediocrity. The irresistible rumble of ‘Walk Idiot Walk’ could be their best moment yet, while there’s also the ringtones-friendly bop of ‘Two-Timing Touch’ and opener ‘Abra Cadaver’, which sees Pelle howling defiantly “They wanted to stick an office worker inside of me!”
After a packed hour it’s over, with a shirtless Howlin’ Pelle trying to drag himself out of the front rows and drummer Chris Dangerous staring the crowd out of it like a man who knows his work here is done.