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

On the night of the show, Perhacs greeted Redcat smiling. “In the spirit of the ‘70s, we’re going to have a very special night,” she said, smoothing her purple dress. For the first performance ever of her music, her 1970 album Parallelograms was presented in its entirety by Dublab-selected guest bands.

“Parallelograms” went twice. First, a full band—including hippie-dancing older women—accompanied Linda Perhacs’ calm, gentle, angelically pronounced math terms—”quadrahedral, tetrahedral, mono-cyclo-cyber-cilia.” Suddenly a fantastic void leaps open mid-song. Haunting chimes. Vowels. Voices slip through a vortex before the song resumes course. The reprise performed later by Ladies Choir had one guitar and many lady handfuls. The Choir entered holding long dresses above their ankles. They stood arranged by fabric color from high to low vocal range; circles painted on their cheeks. Once again, an eerie sensation when the song breaks elicited great pleasure.

Nikki Randa—the Blank Blue siren—and Mia Doi Todd’s voices warmed the tide during “Sandy Toes.” The girls swayed. A bohemian lady with exposed nipples twirled on a beach behind them.—No Dublab event is complete without videos. Artists contributed video to each song, projected on a large screen. “Toes” had nipples. I failed to notice more than desert dunes about Daft Punk’s video for “If You Were My Man.” My eyes followed the live dancers. Flesh colored fabric stretched across their bodies, curves complimented by Ryan Heffington’s choreography. The dancers came back later to enliven a new Perhacs song called “I Dance For My Brother.” “We dance when there’s a need for greater energy,” she said.

Such energy got dark deep with We Are The World’s interpretative “Moons and Cattails.” A wide blue haze undulated above their heads. Their arms extended into pointy wooden limbs and they had no eyes. They swooned as though they lost themselves and had become only their clothes.

The cup became half full when Tom Brousseau filled a wine glass with his magical song. No band; just Tom, the glass, and a few meaningful hand gestures commanded “Porcelain Baked Cast Iron Wedding.”

Linda said Julia Holter blew her away. This girl weaved a watery tapestry using loops. It was a while before she sang; then she let the words linger. The young Holter yearned bravely, “Oh how delicious. Oh how I want this.” Desirous. “Oh how I want you…now.”—A hot line to declare for several hundred eyes fixed on you, and make them feel it.

Rio En Medio fit right in, accompanied by a cymbal tapping, dreadlocked playmate. She, Holter, Todd, and Randa make us believe they “see silences between leaves in the Chimicun rain,” so to speak. Repping outer space, Hecuba shoots by on a hot, loud time-bending comet. So what was Crystal Antlers doing among the fairies, ghosts and rainbows? Rocking a psychedelic “Paper Mountain Man.” Johnny’s scratchy vocals channelled raw flower power. My thoughts formed flared pants and hippie cloaks on the band.

“Thoughts build like a pendulum,” Perhacs explained. “Put a pen down and spiral out.” Thought creates energy creates colors creates thoughts. Shapes and colors reflect the natural world in a way that music can show us. Just close your eyes and listen to Parallelograms, and you’ll see the light, so to speak. When you open them up again and look for magic in the same way. The experience reminds us that reality is trippy without licking a sheet of acid.

—Daiana Feuer