Like a 'Tyrannosaurus:' All muscle, no brain

Among the tripartite of garage-rock "the" bands, Sweden's the Hives were always the closest to the achingly-trendy bands they were compared to -- the Strokes don't sound like Television and the Vines don't sound like T. Rex or Nirvana, but the Hives do in fact sound like the Stooges. That doesn't mean that they expand much upon their early-punk sound, but at least you know what to expect: lead singer Pelle Almqvist will issue something between a howl and a pained moan, and the music behind it will be about as furious as you can get. However, the only word that comes to mind to describe 2002's Veni Vidi Vicious was "inconsistent," and one misstep could have spelled the end of the punky Scandinavian band that could. \nThankfully, Tyrannosaurus Hives doesn't disappoint, though it doesn't mark any more of a progression than the Strokes' or Vines' follow-up records. There are bright moments: "Walk Idiot Walk" (the first single) has a riff that would make Keith Richards slap himself for not having written it. "Diabolic Scheme" combines distorted guitar with the wild-eyed hobo insanity of Tom Waits and "Dead Quote Olympics" could very easily be an oi-punk smash-fest if it wasn't played by five Swedes in suits. "Progression" doesn't mean that they've moved on to making piano ballads and releasing double-albums -- this is still garage rock, where every song is up-tempo and lyrics like, "you got a head/got you a head/you got a head/a see-through head," will fly without much notice. The reason you won't notice, however, is that there is never a lull on this album. That's not to say that it's perfect -- not only is Tyrannosaurus Hives extremely brief and predictable, "No Pun Intended" is basically throwaway, a cardinal sin when making a fatless, bloodthirsty rock record. \nStill, fat content aside, it's one of the more exciting rock records of the year. Maybe it's a result of realizing that they're all pretty ugly, but the Hives have managed to avoid the posing that has plagued their other brothers-in-definite-articles and cut straight to thrashing guitars, biting drums and pure rage on vocals, and it makes for an attention-snapping (if short-lived) result. While garage rock is probably going to wear out its welcome by next year, at least its harbingers are getting better at their instruments and writing catchier songs. Tyrannosaurus Hives, though nothing new, is 30 minutes jam-packed with fun-loving noise.