Abra Cadaver. The Hives. Epitaph. 2004.

 In 2004, fin de siecle irony revealed itself the engine within punk conventionalism when a quintet of blisteringly talented Swedish boys donned matching outfits to record this comically vivid dispatch from the teen apocalypse, warning of the horrors of conformity. The Hives had a minor mainstream success combining their votary’s grasp of retro, mid-sixties garage rock intensity with high gloss, high dollar production values. But, at the turn of the century, their intended demographic, stoned on video games and drug regimens from both the white and black markets, largely ignored the band of Northern European dandies, preferring instead the radio dedicated Green Day and Foo Fighters. Of the three acts, with either direct or indirect ties to punk, only the Hives effectively managed to avoid appealing to mass audience sentimentality by their deft use of tempo, brevity, and shock. Never in a hurry to rid themselves of their influences’ long shadows, the band sped through their best material like they were attempting to outrun rock and roll’s dwindling energy spiral. Along with everyone else, however, they only quickened it. From the 2004 Epitaph release Veni Vidi Vicious.

April 14 021

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