The Hives at Way Out West: Electric Energy and Theatrical Chaos in the Service of Rock

It's absolutely bananas from the very first second.

The Hives need approximately zero seconds to warm up Way Out West. The band steps out in suits with glowing LED strips, a guitar is handed over by a black-clad ninja, and more ninjas move across the stage, filming. It feels as if someone has poured energy drink into both the band and the audience.

With Enough Is Enough, Main Offender, and Hooray Hooray Hooray early in the set, there's no reason to slow down the tempo.

Pelle Almqvist hardly needs to ask for attention, but he does anyway.

— Hands in the air!

And there's barely a person in front of the stage who doesn't raise them.

Pelle climbs up onto a speaker, gets down into the photo pit, and stands right in front of the crash barrier. But one of the most impactful moments of the gig comes when the ramped-up tempo suddenly disappears entirely.

During Paint a Picture, the entire band freezes.

Pelle stands on the speaker with his arms outstretched while the rest of The Hives also stand completely still. As if someone pressed pause, the stage transforms into a living picture—a fitting detail considering the song's title. They hold their positions for what feels like at least a minute while the audience watches, waits, and screams. When everything else is running at 180, the contrast is even more effective.

Rigor Mortis Radio and Bogus Operandi keep the momentum going before Hate to Say I Told You So elicits a strong response. As soon as the band pauses between songs, the audience starts singing. A small mosh pit forms and someone tries to crowd-surf forward, but never quite makes it all the way.

Meanwhile, the ninjas have more tasks than filming. Pelle’s microphone cable gets tangled several times, and they’re ninja-quick at straightening it out. Spontaneous ninja kicks also make appearances from both Pelle and the guitarist.

Pelle explains that The Hives are here to offer uncomplicated feelings. It's a pretty accurate description of what's happening. There's no reason here to stand with your arms crossed and analyze. The band wants a reaction—immediately, and preferably as loud as possible.

Countdown to Shutdown is another outburst before Pelle takes a moment to enjoy the applause and announces that he’s starting to get used to them.

— For those of you who are new to The Hives, my name is Pelle. And I’ve sung so well and so much that now it’s the audience’s turn.

Now the audience gets to work and sing for both the band and each other.

When Come On! and Tick Tick Boom come up, hardly any further instructions are needed.

Pelle asks how many have seen The Hives before, how many are seeing them right now, and how many plan to see them in the future. Then he gets down among the audience again.

— It’s fun to be here. Are you having fun?

The answer is clear.

— We love you, Way Out West!

And the feeling seems mutual.

Legalize Living is followed by Walk Idiot Walk, and the show is approaching its end. But Pelle of course isn’t quite ready to leave the stage without one last negotiation with the audience.

— Okay, if you keep asking, we'll do another!

Two more.

Three more.

Four more.

Somewhere in there, Pelle thinks it sounds like the audience is voting for three.

The Hives Forever Forever The Hives feels almost tailor-made for the moment before Nobody Does It Better brings things to a close.

The Hives deliver a sweaty, theatrical, and totally cranked-up rock show where Pelle Almqvist seems able to be just about anywhere and where the black-clad ninjas have become an equally integral part of the performance.

Absolutely bananas—at ninja speed.

This is just how The Hives should be.