The Hives: A Virgin's Tale

2008-04-17 10:28:16

All hälsa kyrkan av Hive!
    
Hot & heavy, sexy, sweaty Hives beat the breath from your lungs with their heady joy-infused exuberance.
    
Entering Rock City as a Hives virgin I left fearing that no other band may now satisfy me in quite the same way again. Their truly pentecostal enthusiasm demands that you recognise them not merely as a band but as a religion.
    
With an all consuming, voracious baptism to the light of this almost modernist interpretation of the classic stadium rock genre, the Hives invoke a scintillatingly enthralling atmosphere that transcends the frankly impassive venue to transport you into the undeniable rapture bestowed upon the clearly devoted audience of believers.
    
Indulging in a thriving frenzy that I have only ever seen matched by the babbling tongues of those blessed with holy spirit, the crowd begins to breath in life and exhale purest adulation.
    
Pushing through a frenzied celebration of anthems both old and new, the preacher led set list contrives an intricate foreplay that leads ultimately to an orgasmic crescendo come to life in both finale and encore that leaves just the sweetest aftertaste of euphoric satiation.
    
At some point I had begun to recognise a few classics from popular media exposure but in that same instance knew that knowing the music was inconsequential when their drum beat had set the rhythm of my heart.
They were transcendental.
    
Review: Charlotte Seden
    
Images: Phil Swift
    

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