Seeing Hater in a nearly empty pub gave the evening a strangely unreal quality. Their soft-focus indie pop drifted pleasantly enough through the room, but with barely anyone there to respond, the gig often felt less like a performance and more like an extended rehearsal. Even so, a few songs hinted at why the band have built such a loyal following.

The Swedish band follow in a proud tradition of clean, melancholic Scandinavian indie pop, recalling the dreamy restraint of acts that prioritise atmosphere over spectacle. Their music moves slowly and deliberately, carried by shimmering guitars, understated rhythms and a sense of emotional distance that somehow still feels intimate. At times, the sparse crowd almost amplified that feeling, making the set feel oddly personal and detached all at once.

Much of the evening centred on tracks from Mosquito, their latest album, a record that explores longing, uncertainty and romance through a soft, almost mythical lens. Live, those songs retained their hazy beauty, though the subdued atmosphere in the room occasionally drained them of momentum.

Caroline Landahl remained the focal point throughout. Her vocals were controlled, warm and quietly powerful, grounding even the more fragile moments of the set. There is a sincerity to Hater that makes them easy to admire; nothing about the performance felt forced or overly polished. If anything, the evening suggested a band more interested in emotional texture than crowd-pleasing theatrics.

The night may have lacked energy, but not potential. In a different venue, or before a more attentive audience, these songs might have landed with far greater force. As it stood, the performance felt fleeting and strangely intimate — less a triumphant live show than a glimpse into the delicate world Hater have spent years carefully building.

Article: Mona Montella