FIVE months. That's all it's been since The Old Romantic Killer Band first grabbed punters of Leeds indie-mecca the Brudenell Social Club by the day-glo hoodie and sluiced them around in a whiskey barrel ride of hard Delta blues, rock wig-outs and the frothiest cappuccino pop.

Five brief months since the second incarnation of a band which had an acclaimed single and video-in-waiting and which now finds itself within a maelstrom of attention.

"Too much is happening," laughs disbelieving drummer Greg Holland, before heading on stage at Carpe Diem in Leeds.

"Radio shows in Germany, Switzerland, Italy and France have been contacting us for our singles.

"We've been on tour with the Von Bondies, we've played with the Black Lips, done loads of interviews and we've been on TV."

Greg is The Old Romantic Killer Band's new(ish) boy.
It's not always a big deal when a band swaps sticksmen, but when you make up half the band, it matters who's behind the drums.

With singer Harry Johns teasing riff after sweet
riff from his Telecaster – some dredged from the depths of the Mississippi, others adapted from the Stooges' songbook – and Greg pounding out the groove, The Old Romantic Killer Band make a fearsomely honest, stripped-back racket.

And that's why everyone wants a piece of them. Their set-up minus a bass player isn't new (Black Keys, Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Detroit's White Stripes got there first), neither is their blues-heavy, garage rock and pop sound, but it's been a while since anyone showcased it with such raw, instrumental prowess and head-tilting power.

But let's rewind a year or so. Clothes shop worker and blues-fanatic Harry Johns is heading up the band's first incarnation, with the original drummer, a guy called Bunse. Drowned in Sound calls them "the real deal – a genuinely exciting prospect" and they are about to release You Don't Know How To Love. Then, for reasons no-one
is going into, Bunse is out and Greg's in.

While crucial personnel changes wreck some bands early on, Harry reckons it only made The Old Romantic Killer Band stronger.

"I've never been in a band where I've had such a connection with the other person," he says, beckoning at Greg with his beer bottle.

For Harry and Greg, getting a bass player is a non-starter. "If you get another person that's just going to mess it up. If it's not broke..." he shrugs.

"My favourite music is always stripped down to what you need. You need soul, you need riffs and a wicked drummer. "That's all you need to emote. We're really loud, messy and quite abrasive for a minimalist band," Greg says. "Harry plays his songs and I drum them. Rather than teach them to another musician, saying 'in the third chorus do this' it's just really natural. We play off each other well and jam things." They are lazy comparisons, but try watching The Old Romantic Killer Band without thinking of The White Stripes or Black Keys – it won't happen. "It would be stupid to say I don't listen to the Black Keys,"admits Harry, "but I also listen to (metal band) Pantera and (bluesman) Blind Blake."

The pair reckon they'll ease back until September while the album's recorded, although that's probably going against their nature.

"We work hard, we don't cancel shows and we don't turn down shows and we play for next to nothing and do it all ourselves," says Harry.

"We catch buses everywhere with our equipment," adds Greg. "I work all week and the money goes towards eating and staying on tour because the buzz I get is worth slaving away all week." Harry says the band is still skint, but enjoying "a semi-constant undercurrent of label flirtations". "We haven't got any money, we don't earn enough to sustain this," he says. "But if this was a fly-by-night band we didn't care about, we would have given up three gigs down the line.

"I don't know what's going to happen in six months, but if it continues the way it is, I'll be happy."


The band's top three bluesmen

Muddy Waters (1913-1983): So-called Father of Chicago blues. The Rolling Stones named themselves after his 1948 song Rollin' Stone.

Son House (1902-1988): Delta blues influence on Robert Johnson and Muddy Waters. "Son House has always been completely tormented, which I like," says Harry.

Skip James (1902-1969): Mississippi-born guitarist and singer who recorded in the 1930s before disappearing and being rediscovered in the 1960s.