PVA and I are standing outside Rowan’s, a bowling alley and amusement arcade in London’s Finsbury Park. Its institutional red and blue neon frontage illuminates their faces as they each take drags of their roll-up cigarettes. If you try, beyond the traffic and chatter of passersby, you can hear the light’s gentle whir. “Have you heard the news?” Ella asks. Her eyes are coated with a giddy sheen. Louis and Josh look on in eager anticipation, each with their own coy grin.
‘The news?’
‘We’ve just been nominated for a Grammy!’
ArrayBeing nominated for a Grammy: it’s the sort of information you’d imagine being hand-delivered in a golden envelope by a chauffeur of inexplicable origins. But Ella, Josh and Louis found out via text, while being underwhelmed by second-rate pan-Asian food at a nearby restaurant that — by request of the band — will remain unnamed. PVA aren’t in the restaurant polemic game, you see. No, no: they’re in the Grammy-nomination game.
In this moment their dynamic is more present than ever. Ella leads the conversation with joy, while Josh chimes in with insightful, giddy remarks. Their points work in harmony, hammering home what the moment means to them.
‘I was losing it,’ recounts Josh, ‘I wanted to tell the people next to us and my eyes were all over the place.’
‘I was losing it,’ recounts Josh, ‘I wanted to tell the people next to us and my eyes were all over the place.’
Two weeks ago, PVA played at Pitchfork’s London festival. The show felt natural. For a while they’ve revelled in confusion, with their straddling of genres inviting fuzzy definitions of their music: is it rock, techno, industrial, spooky? All you need to know is that their set was an evolved, kaleidoscopic explosion of sound and visual vibrance. For thirty minutes the venue was entirely theirs.
And that wasn’t by chance. ‘It really felt like we had the A-team that night,’ Josh says.
‘Everything was in unison. On stage you get that, the crowd gets that,’ adds Ella.
They felt it an undertaking to be playing at such an celebrated location; a welcome responsibility to lean into their dance DNA. ‘We removed the guitars and added some stonking donks,’ Josh says, ‘We’re excited about presenting club music in a band format, in a euphoric way that also has a darkness to it.’
It’s surprising to see them so buzzed about a one-off show. Their summer was spent playing some of the UK’s largest festivals, as well as a handful of European ones. They performed their usual way: an entrancing one-two-three punch to the synapses of rapturous thousands. Live shows are famously their wheelhouse. Go to one and you’ll understand: rarely do you see a band captivate and jolt the inebriated like PVA. It’s an engrossing form of theatre. Eyes fixate on one of the three members at separate times in equal measure; an even-handed fascination. Whether that’s Louis’s walloping and idiosyncratic drumming style, Ella’s ethereal presence, or Josh’s irrepressible headbanging.
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‘It’s sort of like he’s got one more plank to drill into the hull of a sinking ship but he hasn’t got a hammer; he’s only got his head.’ Louis quips when asked of Josh’s on-stage presence. Their shows are unforgettable and only seem to be getting better. It’s easy to forget their debut EP only came out a year ago.
We’re waiting for our bowling alley now. The place is rammed despite it being a Tuesday night. Co-workers jovially compete with one another as a Stormzy record fills the room from carpet to ceiling. People shout with abandon.
It’s funny to see PVA in such a conventional environment. They don’t look out of place, it’s just such a juxtaposition to their music and general ethos. As a band they’re refuseniks. Questioning recordings as the final refuge of a band’s creative project is just one example of their subversive nature.
‘Convention can put you into a certain way of thinking about something,’ Josh tells me, pint in hand. ‘It can stop you from wanting to explore new things. It’s never been convention that has progressed things.’
Ella supplies: ‘Convention is there to be recognised and played with and subverted. Let it control you and it becomes a hindrance.’ She looks back up. ‘These people are so fucking drunk!’
Josh laughs, then continues: ‘People say ‘you can’t do that’. That’s actually exciting, it’s progressive.’
We’re told our lane’s ready and Ollo, the photographer, brings over a pitcher of beer. Myself and PVA cheer. Thanks, Ollo! After a few bowls each it feels obvious who’s going to win: Louis – he’s imperious when it comes to bowling. Or, we just or suck. It’s most likely the latter considering our sub-30 scores.
The writing was on the wall. Louis first, Josh second, Ella third. The winning score was 94 so yes, ok, maybe we’re not that good. After, we head into the arcade area for our It’s-a-hangover-now pints.
Things have become somewhat quieter for the band now. Recording, going to Japanese restaurants. I ask Louis about the future while Josh and Ella, drenched in bewitching neon, compete at Super Bikes 3.
‘We’ve got each other to look out for. There’s a lot of pressure to do things a certain way and on a certain schedule. That’s always there to remember but sometimes we forget we’ve got ourselves to look out for. There’s no point in doing this thing if it’s a debilitating way. If it isn’t fun.’
‘We’re doing this whole thing; we’re not completely sure what it is or where it’s going to end up, but we’re going to do it at our own pace, and our own way.’
Outside Rowans, I notice my words becoming vapour for the first time this year. I say my goodbyes, again congratulate them on the Grammy nod, and drunkenly make my way for the Tube back south.
