We never wanted to be straight-ahead rock. We always wanted to be oddball.” So says Rory Lewarne, lead singer of Pink Grease, and rarely in the field of rock’n’roll have six men so undeniably walked it like they talked it.

They came, like all the best things do, exactly when you weren't expecting it, and exactly where you weren't looking. Way back in 2002, a psychotic sextet from Sheffield steel city started making guerilla raids on the nation's live venues, stunning unsuspecting audiences (notably when picked to support the likes of Ladytron, The Fall, Liars and Peaches) with the force and surprise factor of a punch across the face.

Packing all the power of the ‘new rock revolution’ (the buzz phrase of the day), but sharing none of its reliance on cliché, Pink Grease - named after a compilation LP of vintage doo-wop - mixed the raw sexual excitement of 50's rockabilly, the in-your-face garishness of 70s glam and punk, and the futurism of 21st century electronics into one delirious cacophony (imagine a drunken fight between New York Dolls, The Cramps and early Roxy, and you’re getting there)

Indifference to the band’s live set was impossible. This, according to Steve, was always the plan. “The goal is to stir some emotion. Ideally just to really move people, blow their minds. We wanna make music that really makes you want to get jiggy… or shout and throw things at us.”

Identifying their formative influences as Bolan, Blondie, Bowie, the Pistols, classic girl groups (“the Shadow Morton ones or Motown ones“), and Michael Jackson, Rick James and Prince (“all those great high-pitched vocalists”), the challenge was to forge something which sounded like “a modern day Eddie Cochran”. With six members pulling in an infinite number of directions, the struggle, says Steve was “making "simple music”.

After a handful of disorderly gigs under the charming name of The Buttfuckers came the first attempts to capture the chaos on tape, initially by blagging some free time in the home-built studio of local producer Supreme Vagabond Craftsmen, and then - when the results fell into the hands of Add (N) To X’s Horseglue Records – in New York, at the studio of Russell ‘Blues Explosion’ Simins, with Jason Buckle manning the faders.

This NYC visit included a one-off show at Don Hill's in front of 75 punters and three pole dancers (which ended with the crowd and the band exchanging places), and a photo shoot which involved Nick walking the streets of the Bowery stark bollock naked.

Somehow, a debut single, 'Manhattan On Fire' / 'Working All Day', emerged from this lunacy in December 2002 on Horseglue, followed in March 2003 by another single, 'Waiting For So Long', and a mini-album, 'All Over You'.

Word began to spread of this berserk Sheffield sextet whose live shows were a chaotic whirl of glam rock guitar, tribal drumming, crazy squalls of sax from the hot pant-wearing John Lynch, rumbling surf-rock bass lines from Stuart Faulkner, unpredictable squeals from computer boffin Nick Collier’s home-made synthesizer (the offspring of Beach Boys’ Theremin and Rolf Harris’ Stylophone), over which singer Rory, a born exhibitionist from the Iggy school, would boom in a daft "basso profondo", while guitarist Steve Santa Cruz shrieked in an even dafter falsetto. The energy and excitement of these early shows is captured perfectly in a self made, low -fi, warts-and-all rockumentary, 'The Nasty Show', which was released on DVD in 2003.

Signing to Mute in the summer of 2003, it was time for the band to get serious - well, relatively speaking - with their first album proper. This time, the setting was Jacob’s Studio in Guildford, and the producer was former Altered Images member (and Clare Grogan’s husband) Steve Lironi, who had worked on everything from “The Reverend Black Grape” to 'Mmm-Bop'.

Heralded in March 2004 by the surf-rock single 'Fever', an instant and enduring dance floor classic, and including signature tune 'The Pink G.R. Ease” and “Peaches” (both released as singles), the album 'This Is For Real' finally saw the recorded Pink Grease matching up to the expectations raised by their live show.

With the exception of the non-album single 'Strip' in January, 2005 was a quiet year for Pink Grease. Deceptively quiet. Something was incubating. That something was 'Mechanical Heart', the band’s second full-length album.

This time, the band’s journey from retro rock’n’roll towards pulsating electro ('All Over You' was 80/20, 'This Is For Real' was 50/50) had moved a step further. They’d been listening to a lot of Depeche Mode, Devo and access to the Mute back catalogue and the influence of Mute supreme Daniel Miller, unquestionably helped.

The presence of a legendary electro producer completed the picture. Arthur Baker - producer of New Order and the man responsible for Planet Rock, among many others - had first come across Pink Grease when they played an “awful” (Steve’s words) gig at London’s Met Bar, then put them on at his Return To New York club night. Impressively and flatteringly, it was he who approached them regarding a collaboration.

He‘s very American,” says Lewarne, “very charismatic, a larger than life figure.” Santacruz describes him as “like a big enthusiastic child. It’s charming, he’s always giggling, getting excited by new toys.”

Over five intensive days either side of Christmas, Baker and Pink Grease went into East London’s famous Toerag Studios, the retro paradise where all the equipment is of pre-1963 vintage. Burns guitars and Selmer amps were used, a Ludwig drum kit (“like Ringo”), and the mixing desk on which The Beatles recorded “Tomorrow Never Knows”, imported from Abbey Road. In comparison, Metropolis Studios, where the job was finished, was “like the flight deck of Star Trek”.

Baker, a believer in “creative accidents”, took a “very hands off” approach, says Lewarne. “He wasn’t precious about grooming us.” With the band, he used the space itself, the “natural reverb of the room”, to recapture the rawness of Pink Grease’s earliest demos

The making of 'Mechanical Heart' resulted in one casualty in terms of Pink Grease’s personnel with the amicable departure Stuart Faulkner. His ready-made replacement is Dan Pencavel, Rory’s old friend and flatmate, who has been part of the PG entourage since Day One. “He started out as a crap roadie,“ Santa Cruz laughs, “then became super-roadie and now he’s a fantastic bassist.”

Meanwhile, new songwriters have emerged within PG. Santacruz still sets the framework, as per previous albums. “Ordinary Girl”, the frenzied lead-off single, was composed by drummer Marc Hoad, and two other tracks, “Decimation” and “Don’t Show Me How”, came from John Lynch.

Perhaps as a result, the subject matters have altered. Whereas almost every past Pink Grease song was about sex in one form or another, this time the lyrics are, says Lewarne, “more about relationships”. Santa Cruz admits that it_s still "50% about sex but the rest about heartbreak and nihilism.” If he_d mentioned zombies and alien abductions too, he_d have covered it.

And the music? The intention was, says Steve, to forge an “indescribable sound”, so they’re struggling to find the adjectives. “I hate the word ‘dark’,” says Rory, “but there’s less of the cabaret rock’n’roll element.” Steve also considers it “darker and more moody” than previous PG releases, and Rory thinks it’s “more textural, more adventurous”. Then, Steve nails it: “You can hate us all individually, but you can’t resist the sound we make together.”

Although tracks like “My Admission”, “Right With You” and “Solid” are propelled by high-voltage synths, Rory promises that the G.R.Ease haven’t entirely abandoned their rock’n’roll element. “’Alien’ has a vocal melody that could be on *Grease*, and ‘Separate Us’ sounds like Slayer meets the Beatles. We never reject our own influences…”

The end result is a monster of a record, which sets Pink Grease as far apart from the pack as ever. “We always thought we were ahead,” says Rory. And that is still where you’ll find them.