The Hives

Of all the "The" bands swearing devotion to the Sonics/Stones/Stooges holy trinity of garage rock, the Hives have always seemed to have the most fun. Unhindered by the Strokes' penchant for rock-star cliche or the White Stripes' Machiavellian creepiness, the Hives (due at the Ogden Theatre on Wednesday, July 28) reveled in the simple pleasures of three chords, a bare bones snare and frontman Howlin' Pelle Almqvist's caterwauling on 2000's Veni Vidi Vicious. True, that formula wasn't particularly innovative to begin with, nor does Tyrannosaurus Hives' quick, rat-a-tat detonations of sound (twelve tracks in just under thirty minutes) add anything all that new to either the Hives' repertoire or the garage-rock canon. But who cares? When they rip through "Abra Cadaver" with little more than a single chord like some kind of rowdy, Saab-driving gang of hellions, or when "Love in the Plaster" shifts from a throbbing, neo-garage heartbeat into surf guitar overdrive at Almqvist's bellowed cue, I defy you not to nod your freaking head.


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