PVA - Toner (EP)

PVA’s debut EP Toner landed in November 2020 on Ninja Tune and still feels like walking into a warehouse at 2am, all strobe glare and nervous energy. The London trio of Ella Harris, Josh Baxter and Louis Satchell sit in that spot where post-punk jitters meet the pull of the club. It’s a blend that can come off as a concept on paper, but on Toner it’s sweaty and physical, the kind of record you feel in your ribs before you’ve clocked the detail.

“Talks” is the obvious entry point. It’s a proper single, taut and coiled, with Harris’ clipped delivery cutting against synths that flicker like fluorescent lights. The beat struts, the bass jogs, and then the whole track tightens again. It earned remixes and a lot of word of mouth for a reason. You can trace a line back to their first calling card “Divine Intervention”, recorded with Dan Carey for Speedy Wunderground in 2019, but “Talks” is sleeker, more assured, and a stronger clue to where PVA were heading. The hooks are there, but they sit inside the rhythm rather than on top of it, so every repeat listen pulls you into some small moving part you missed the first time.

What really sells Toner is the balance between control and abandon. PVA aren’t content to just decorate indie songs with a drum machine. They let the drums breathe, give the synths space, and build tension like dance producers. There’s a point on the EP where the kick locks into a patient pulse and you can almost see the fog creeping out over the floor, yet the vocals keep a human edge, almost conversational. Harris and Baxter trade lines with a cool detachment that never tips into parody. It sounds lived in, like they’ve spent as much time at rehearsals as they have in clubs, taking notes on what works when a room is actually moving.

Critics clocked that instinct early. UK press were quick to tag PVA as part of a broader wave pushing the post-punk envelope, but Toner stands on its own. The sequencing is tight. The harsher textures arrive in measured doses, and there’s a sly sense of melody that sneaks up on you. You get industrial clang one moment, then a synth line that glows like a late train pulling into the platform. Satchell’s drumming is a big part of that feeling. Even when the electronics are doing most of the heavy lifting, the cymbals and toms add grain and air, so the tracks never feel boxed in.

Spin it on a decent setup and the production choices jump out. The low end is chewy, the percussion crisp, and there’s headroom for those synth swells to rise without smearing the mix. If you’re a sucker for clubby post-punk on wax, Toner vinyl is a treat. It’s the kind of EP that makes sense to own, because you’ll keep coming back to different moments depending on mood. One night it’s the stern march of the rhythm section, the next it’s a small vocal inflection or a synth tail that lingers a fraction longer than you expect. PVA vinyl has that replay value, and it sits neatly next to contemporaries you might already shelve nearby.

Part of the thrill here is hearing a young band take big swings. There are long passages where they commit to the build, trusting repetition to do the heavy lifting. Then they’ll tilt the pattern by a few degrees and the whole room seems to shift. It’s a trick that rewards patience and suggests they were already thinking in terms of the live set, where small changes feel seismic. If you saw them in those early London gigs, you’ll recognise the shape of these songs and how they breathe.

If you’re browsing a Melbourne record store, keep an eye out for Toner sitting in the left-field dance or post-punk bins. It’s a smart add to a collection that values both the body and the brain. And if you’re hunting online, it’s easy enough to buy PVA records online these days, with plenty of shops shipping vinyl records Australia wide. PVA albums on vinyl tend to disappear fast, and this EP in particular captures a moment that feels worth preserving.

Toner doesn’t sprawl. It says what it needs to say, then leaves a faint ring in your ears. That restraint is part of its charm. It gave PVA a firm step into the conversation and hinted at the directions they would follow later. Put it on when the evening needs a nudge into something a bit stranger, and let those drums and synths do their unholy dance.