Rumours are floating of record labels and deals, but nothing more has been said. The band have been very tight-lipped about anything and everything, leaving us only to speculate. Tension is high and the hype is real - but have Pretty Vicious got the teeth to match the growl?
Last night, I wandered over to the rather spectacular Red House in Merthyr to see what all the fuss was about. This wasn't your average beginner gig: security teams in long coats stalked the doors and tickets even had tear-off bits on them. It was all very professional, much like the stage and backline. People were curious, anxious even. No-one had a clue what to expect from this as-yet unproven band.
Kicking off proceedings were Merthyr songsters The Dole Age, who were nothing short of on fire. I've always had a soft spot for The Dole Age boys, who sing very much from the heart. Songs about modern life, facing adversity in a land void of opportunity, and the Motherfucking Blues all got the crowd toe-tapping and head-bobbing. A charismatic and energetic band, The Dole Age got everyone in the proper mood for the main event.
Pretty Vicious slid onto the stage to rapturous applause. They picked up their instruments without so much as a nod or a smile and proceeded to beat us with their wall of sound. Guitars laden with more fuzz than Ron Jeremy's moustache met hammering drums and a strained, aged voice that sounded more akin to that of a 40-a-day punk singer than a boy in his mid-to-late teens.
Lead singer Brad has more than a whiff of Pete Doherty about him; he looks like he's got many lifetime's worth of stories to scream about. A cool arrogance enveloped him; a Gibson SG slung low into his hip and a mouth contorting in ways Paolo Nutini would be proud of - he looked utterly right. On the flanks, Tom and Jarvis looked less at home, standing stony-faced and purposeful rather than arrogant and cocksure. Was this inexperience or part of the look? At this point in their career I'm unsure I can make a solid judgement, but I'm certain their showmanship will develop with age and experience. Drummer Elliot was also a name on everyone's lips; recently sixteen, he battered the skins like they owed him money, and did it all with his braces proudly displayed in the smile on his face.
As objective as I try to make this review, their age cannot be ignored. It dominates their hype. Is this playing in their favour at the minute? Yes, but age is temporary. What isn't temporary, however, is the sheer quality of their sound. Pretty Vicious sound massive. They carry the edgy, punk-infused tone of new Welsh act Catfish and the Bottlemen, but with an almighty, more thundering crash. Think Jake Bugg meets Royal Blood in a back-alley fistfight. It's big, it's proud, and it hammers its way into your skull for hours after you've left.
Between songs, however, there were odd silences - no crowd interaction or even an acknowledgement. Faces were intrigued, beguiled over the lack of any noise other than the humming of amplifiers and the twangs that come with tuning a guitar. This wasn't necessarily a bad thing, just a notable one. Was it part of the arrogant, 'we ain't here for long' persona, or the result of a lack of experience?
Again, I cannot say. That is what makes these boys so intriguing: there are so many questions, so many things that go without definite answer. Will they sign to a major label? Probably. Will they play in Merthyr again? Probably not.
Despite the heroic noise they made, there was also an element of temporality to the performance; this would probably be the smallest stage that Pretty Vicious will ever play. With representatives from every major label across the county sniffing at the stage doors, it's almost unquestionable that these boys will make it, and make it big.
So, Pretty Vicious. Does the bite match the hype?
Yes. With a sound as big their first advance, egos in the early stages, and a mystique that rivals only Prince, they are some seriously big contenders in the indie/punk/rock scene.
I wanted to say that Pretty Vicious were for people who liked their indie with less facial hair, but that's an unfair statement to make. They carry a strained energy - a nod to the pains of growing up - that will carry them far into the horizon and onto the world's stages to many, many screaming fans.
On a side note, I had a quick conversation with two well-dressed lads outside after the gig. They later revealed that they were from Warner Bros. Records, and had come for gander. If people like that are keen, does it really matter what I think?
No. But here it is anyway: Pretty Vicious are pretty damn good, and that's the end of it.
What's their sound?
Think if the Sex Pistols went to finishing school; a raw, ragged sound that has had some fine-tuning and finesse glued onto it. Suck It and See-era Arctic Monkeys eating away at Kasabian-catchy melodies and finished off with spoonful of Royal Blood sledgehammering.
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