The Hives transform Alexandra Palace into a chaotic playground of lights, riffs and pure rock ’n’ roll energy, delivering a night that feels bigger than the venue itself.

Words by Felix Bartlett, photos by Aaron Heather (@aaronheather_photo) | Dec 01, 2025

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Back up the hill we go again, marching toward another night of beautiful mayhem inside the cavernous halls of Alexandra Palace. There’s something about this place, a kind of proving ground for bands who’ve clawed their way up the ladder and suddenly realise they’re playing somewhere that really means something. And tonight, The Hives walk onstage like a band who know exactly what that moment feels like.

When frontman Pelle Almqvist burst on stage, the crowd surged forward like he’d just dropped a live wire. The band kicked off, and from the first chords it felt like the whole venue was about to shake loose. The Hives looked every bit like seasoned rock messengers, sharp in signature monochrome suits, moving with the ease of people who know exactly when to strike and when to step back.

It’s wild to think how much has changed since I first saw them at Download 2013, that Saturday night crowd, my dad next to me, the roar of “Walk Idiot Walk.” Twelve years on, here I stand in Alexandra Palace, seeing them hit that same chaos with far more weight behind it. The swagger’s still there, but now it’s edged with a kind of confidence that only comes with decades on stage.

Before any of that chaos takes hold, though, San Francisco’s Spiritual Cramp light the fuse. They arrive with zero polish and maximum attitude, all cracked knuckles, bouncing limbs and ragged hooks. Michael Bingham paces like someone trying to out-run his own heartbeat, while the band churn out a frantic, sweat-soaked cocktail of punk grit and rock ’n’ roll swing. Short, sharp, loud, brilliant. With a fresh album in hand and a guerrilla-style street gig already teased for the following day at Dark Arts Coffee. Watch this space, these guys are about to blow up!

Yard Act followed, shifting the room’s energy with their clever hooks, spoken-word grit and unpredictable rhythm. Their set felt like a controlled explosion, edgy but measured, a perfect bridge into the chaos to come.

And then the lights dimmed, the stage breathed, and The Hives hit the throttle. Striding out in matching light-up attire, they launched into their set with relentless precision. As exhilarating as Tick Tick Boom sounded ricocheting across the room, you couldn’t help but believe The Hives really could power the entire venue. Twenty-five years on from their first UK tour, the Swedish punk’n’rollers are still full of piss and vinegar, reinvigorated after ending a decade-long recording hiatus with two well-received albums in three years.

Hate to Say I Told You So remained the ultimate crowd-pleaser, unsurprising given it still sounds completely fresh. But with so many hits now in rotation, The Hives are becoming an even more vital live proposition with age.

It helped that the openers had already set the bar sky-high, another sharply attired, razor-tight garage-rock act, but the headliners met them on every level, emerging bloodied but unbowed.

Venue size be damned. The Hives commanded Alexandra Palace like they were born to play it. On this night, they were unstoppable, an impeccably tailored cyclone of chaos, charisma and pure rock ’n’ roll theatre. A masterclass. A riot. A reminder of why they remain one of the most thrilling live bands on the planet.