Miike Snow at The Music Box 5/31/10

Miike Snow, enjoyed by indie kids, electrophiles and bros, alike. (Photo courtesy of flickr.com/concordiaimages)

“Is it pronounced Mike or Mee-kay? Either way, which one is he?”

“NO WAY—Britney’s ‘Toxic’? Shut…up.”

“Sweden?”

In a matter of seconds, the mass of dubious murmurs were hushed to a silence when suddenly the crowd was engulfed in light and sound. The phantom-masked men of Miike Snow emerged one by one onto the stage of the Music Box, approaching eerily to their respective posts against the silhouette of their infamous insignia—the mythical jackalope. With the first drop of a synth-chord and gleam of blinding light, the Swedish-American trio (with the help of few others) took the audience along for an hour-and-a-half live spectacle somewhere out of this world.

And live was what they got. In an age when DJs scratch through software and singers croon through auto-tune, it was somewhat refreshing, if not entirely impressive that Miike Snow actually played their instruments (and more than one at that). From their modern-day ballad “Burial,” to their pop-tinged anthem “Animal,” Andrew Wyatt, Christian Karlsson and Pontus Winnberg dodged from synth boxes to guitars to pianos and back across the smoke-filled stage. Where they would sometimes lose the crowd in a sea of electronic interludes, Wyatt would lure them back with a falsetto voice so haunting, it made you pray your name was “Silvia.”

Good work, light show man.

The show (their second of three LA dates) sold out to an especially eclectic crowd, proving that the synthpop rock group was a proverbial bridge between music scenes. Indie-rock savants swayed to “Cult Logic” and sang-along to “Black and Blue” with the electro kids in a feel-good unison that streamed through the walls of the vintage theater. And while some of them may not have known much about Miike Snow before the show began (cough, shirtless bros, cough), it would suffice to say that in their world of live music (perhaps once filled with darkness, darkness, darkness), they all had seen the light—quite literally—thanks to a stellar performance from the electric ensemble.

Set List

Cult Logic