INDY'S WEEKLY ALTERNATIVE NEWSPAPER HIGHLIGHTING ARTS, ENTERTAINMENT AND SOCIAL JUSTICE

A day at the track with the Hives

I’m standing behind The Vogue with four members of the Hives, who changed into matching outfits moments before. It’s Saturday afternoon, several hours before their show that night, and we’re waiting for the cab to take us to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Between soundcheck and the show, the Hives have set aside the time to see a little auto racing.

Howlin’ Pelle Almquist takes off his shiny black jacket. One by one, everybody else in the group — guitarists Vigilante Carlstroem and Nicholaus Arson, plus drummer Chris Dangerous — follow his lead. I had to ask. “Does everybody have to be in exact dress code all the time?” I think it was Nicholaus who answered. “No it was just getting hot in these jackets.”

Once at the track, the Hives, in their black and white checkered shirts, black pants and white shoes, really stood out from the surrounding Hoosier madness.

We climb into the bleachers. The Hives sit in a row right next to a sun-burnt obese couple who look like they could be from Mooresville. They look nervous, especially when the strange, identically dressed men in big sunglasses started chattering in Swedish. The utter unworldliness of that scene shall remain with me the rest of my days.

The remainder of the visit went uneventfully. We ran around the garage area looking at cars and drivers, after which we sat and had beers. The banter was light and easy. We talked about American beer (better for summer drinking, as opposed to heavier European beers), Swedish food (meatballs and potatoes) and the lack of edible Mexican food in Sweden. As we were heading back to the gig, our cab driver, a lovely woman named Karis, started quoting my preview from last week’s NUVO, pulled out a copy and handed it back to the band.

I was feeling cocky at this moment, and I said to the Hives, “I hope I don’t have to write a bad review next week because you guys suck tonight.” I looked around, and saw the photographer Melonshe with a horrified look on her face. Four-fifths of the Hives were looking at me as if I’d just suggested one of the stupidest, most hare-brained notions in the history of stupid hare-brained notions. I pretty much had to stay shut up for the rest of the way.

A rock battleground

Back to the Vogue for the night’s show. Forget about comparing Pelle to Mick and Iggy, the Hives’ lead throat is quite possibly the best, and baddest, lead vocalist walking the earth right now. His mile-a-minute stage banter was about as entertaining and cocky as any lead vocalist, ever. He was part carnival barker, part ring leader and all rock star as he showed the audience how to properly clap, and attempted to break the land speed lead vocalist record multiple times. (The goal was 260, but he only made it to 230).

As great as Pelle was, the high performance band behind him was on par. Dangerous is a powerful drummer that never, not once, let up on his brutal whipping of the drum kit. Not once. Dr. Destruction and Vigilante kept the left side of the stage full of kinetic energy as Nick Arson roamed the stage with the poise and chops of a mentally-unstable guitar freak.

Heavy on selections from their latest, The Black and White Album, including awesome readings of “Return The Favour,” “Hey Little World” and “You Dress Up For Armageddon,” the band poured it on fast and thick. For once, I was proud of my city as the packed house of hipsters and punters alike were rocking out to every song old and new. “I have you hypnotized!” Pelle tells the crowd before launching into a scorched earth end-game that included head-exploding renditions of “Diabolic Scheme” and “Tick Tick Boom.”

As the smoke cleared, I filed out amongst battle-scarred concertgoers still grappling with the enormity of what they just witnessed. As I walked by the backstage doors, Howlin’ Pelle came up to me, shook my hand and asked with a devilish smile, “Did we disappoint?”

No, Pelle, not even a little tiny bit.