Bands like the Sounds, the Hives and I’m From Barcelona are harbingers of a Scandinavian invasion: Swedes have swarmed the “indie-pop-rock” genre in recent years, and for good reason.

Finland might be great for strange death metal and Iceland for ambient trip-hop, but look no further than the other white Northern country for pitch-perfect pop that caters to a wide palette of tastes. Peter, Bjorn and John are no exception, and Saturday night at Club Nokia, the group celebrated their 10 years together by strutting their incredible range.

On November 21, 1999 in Stockholm, Peter Moren, Björn Yttling and John Eriksson had their first rehearsal, apparently after deciding to forgo giving their band an actual name. Their 2006 album Writer’s Block put them on the map (or at least the U.S. map), and this year’s Living Thing followed up on the same catchy-pop roots while adding a harder-edged feel.

The concert’s seemingly endless openers included San Diego band Lights On. They were commendable for doing an almost unsettlingly good Strokes impression, and because the lead singer was comfortable enough with his sexuality to wail on a tambourine for two of the songs. Another was fellow Swede El Perro del Mar, a.k.a. Sarah Assbring, who accented her ‘80s-esque tunes by dancing around in an oversized flowered blazer and hoop earrings like a new-wave nymph. She wasn’t bad, but she was more of a wind-down than a ramp-up.

Peter, Bjorn and John kicked it off with “Lay It Down,” from their newest album. It was somewhat jarring to hear the diminutive, baby-faced Moren, in his starched shirt and suspenders, singing “shut the fuck up boy, you’re starting to piss me off.” It was a far cry from the softhearted lyrics of some of their Writer’s Block tracks, but the audience was into it, bouncing up and down on the balls of our feet, not sure what we were starting to get pissed off about.

Like their past hits, most of the tracks from Living Thing feature scraping, slamming percussion and a consistently upbeat energy level. Between the hollow taps and eerie space noises, you’d think PB&J were alternately welding metal and stomp dancing, but it works somehow.

The special guests were a highlight of the show. For “Young Folks,” Stockholm singer Lykke Li jumped in to sing with Moren about how they “don’t care about the old folks,” because they’re so good at whistling. The LA Ladies’ Choir also joined onstage to lend their voices for the childlike high-pitched chanting in “Nothing To Worry About.”  It had the potential to sound creepy, but it was pleasantly siren-like.

The older material they played was a little less experimental and less interesting for it. Fortunately the group compensated by tearing up the stage, acting more like an ‘80s hair-metal band than three Swedish boys in suits.

Moren worked up a frothy sweat running back and forth across the stage, brandishing his guitar like a gun and faux-shooting the audience in time with the beat, supplied with tireless vigor by Eriksson. Bassist Yttling stole the show, stomping around aggressively and plucking his bass with another guitar or sliding it along the microphone. He was a sound-effect machine, effortlessly making the mouth-maracas “chuh” noise heard prevalently in tracks like “The Chills.” At one point, it seemed like he controlled the strobe light with his clap and the drumbeat with the flick of his pointer finger. The effect was, all together, cooler than the fjörds of Göteborg.

—Olga Khazan