Following Liquid Meat and The Nightbirds, The Pricks showcased at underground Sully Street in The Tempest—drawing their largest audience to date while putting this spot on the music map. The seven members—Brophy and T-nut (vocals), Yoch (drums), Dre (rhythm guitar), Nisan (lead guitar), Oz (bass), Chris (keyboards)—live by a motto: It’s not just the music, it’s a lifestyle. A hot, up-and-coming band, although not tied up in record deals yet, The Pricks have sponsorship from Atwater Clothing, Hoven Eyewear, and HotBox Vapors, and thus rock their styles. An entire Pricks-attire fascination has ensued, with the crowd decked out in Pricks hats, shirts, hoodies, ladies’ tank tops, you name it. These particular Pricks are moving beyond music into a cultural phenomenon.
How did a bunch of bad boys with rock instrumentation, who spit hip-hop, get under the spotlight? Pounding with a punk edge, a Pricks’ show gathers booty shakers and moshers alike, uniting to overthrow The Man, while Brophy and T-nut spit their rhymes. Exploding on a recent tour through exposure on KROQ, these guys stay loyal to their self-proclaimed status as 'underground' with the forthcoming "Don't Want to Be Used" set to pop on March 5th, with entirely self-produced tracks. They consider their fans members of the group rather than a source of income.
Despite the vocalists’ insistence that the audience enjoy itself non-violently, the show at Sully Street, after only a few songs, ended in outright bloody chaos. The show was cut short, the bar closed down. Inebriated kids were hurled out. Because the Pricks are far from being dicks, they have now promised their committed fans to return to Sully Street and play the set that was cut short, because “…some pussy thought they were tough in the pit.”
It’s hard to imagine that a certain level of violence wouldn’t arise from the Pricks’ shows, despite their Ghandi-like stance; peeps be gettin’ all riled-up on that shit. It is no wonder they attract a multi-racial, multi-economic following; the boys' deeply personal lyrics are easy to identify with, concentrated on drug use, alcohol, death, and the plight of the working (wo)man. A song titled “Lower Class” expresses frustration with the mundane lifestyle of the working class under the thumb of white-collar overlords—drinking beer out of cans, workin’ five days a week, commuting on skateboards.
Although closely tied with suffering, the Pricks’ attitude is charismatic. Imbued with the spirit of youth, yet having the air of tattooed, weathered philosophers, you might just see them cruisin’ in a 1964 Cadillac contemplating the meaning of strife. I wouldn’t miss The Pricks' upcoming shows at Blue Cafe in Long Beach on March 31st or at The Whisky on April 5th. Hopefully there won't be any "tough pussies in the pit" there.
