Miike Snow are a music industry paradox. Andrew Wyatt, all beard and studied indifference, squints into his mic-stand looking every inch the reluctant rock star. And yet, a rudimentary Google search will reveal that of the trio, Christian Karlsson and Pontus Winnberg moonlight as pop producers extraordinaire Bloodshy and Avant, concocting saccharine guff for the likes of Kylie Minogue and Britney Spears. The paradox, simply, is that Miike Snow are actually pretty good.
The band amble onstage sporting white masks that add a faint touch of drama to proceedings, and they largely swerve the stilted banter that nascent acts tend to fudge. Cabaret Voltaire is, to quote a nearby onlooker, "burstin"—to observe such regular bouts of frenzy must be an amusing sight for a band more accustomed to turning the knobs for a variety of vacuous dolly birds. Miike Snow, following an already rich lineage of shimmery Swedish pop, rifle through a series of ebullient 3-minute standards that invite steady swells of cheer from the audience. More interestingly, they revel in the rare opportunity to delineate the clean edges of their self-titled album in favour of extended prog-rock jams and a mesmeric Balearic rave that serves as this evening’s full stop.
Some perspective is required, though—tonight’s prolonged hysteria seems like an artifice when taking into consideration the free entry and dirt-cheap vodka swilling in everyone’s hands. The Scandinavians are gathering a sizeable cult following on merit, for sure, though Wyatt's hirsute countenance shouldn't mean that the Swedes deserve an appraisal of messianic proportions. As it is, Miike Snow are a polished outfit that would do well to add a bit more of the muck and spittle that they threaten to show tonight. Now that really would be something to get excited about.
3/5
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