Its three members - singer and guitarist James Drinkwater, drummer Jarrad Long and bassist Dominic Gleeson - once lived another life in a band called Dirty Pink Jeans. During the noughties they were one of the main drawcards of the local scene. They'd pack venues and slot into festivals, even playing the inaugural Groovin the Moo.

Brimming with ambition, the four-piece, which included James' brother Nick on guitar, relocated to Melbourne with their matinee idol looks and arsenal of radio-ready indie-rock anthems.

But life, love and James' burgeoning career in fine art would ultimately draw them in different directions and Dirty Pink Jeans were folded into the bottom drawer.

Gleeson had been the first to leave. After a year he moved back to Newcastle to marry his sweetheart. James would later relocate to Italy.

"I remember when James rang me and said, 'I think we're going to finish the band and I'm going to focus on my art,'" Gleeson recalls. "I was like, 'Do what you've got to do.' It's hard, but I did it and I'm happy.'"

But fate is cunning. Over 10 years later, life reunited Drinkwater, Gleeson and Long.

"We found ourselves back in Newcastle and when we'd have beers together we would talk about how we should have a jam," Drinkwater says. "And we wondered, 'I suppose we should jam Dirty Pink Jeans songs?'"

So the three former bandmates blew out the cobwebs, playing the old tunes for the first time since their last show together at St Kilda's Espy in 2007.

"It was very final for me," says James of his decision to leave Dirty Pink Jeans to focus on fine art, for which he is now internationally recognised, "so to be doing it again is a f _ _ _ ing dream. And you can easily underestimate what you can do. We're still only in our 30s."

During their walk down memory lane the trio fondly recalled a band they formed during an eight-month period in which Dirty Pink Jeans were put on ice while guitarist Nick relocated to Albury with his fiancée, who was locuming there as a doctor.

"We started a little side project called Vicious Assault," Drinkwater chuckles. "It was confrontational surf punk, not that far from The Pitts."

Long adds, "We only played three or four shows."

When they dusted off the little-heard Vicious Assault catalogue, something happened. Ideas flowed, new songs were written and they soon realised they'd actually formed a new group.

"COVID suited The Pitts," Drinkwater says, "because we could just knuckle down and work out what it is to be in a band again. And that muscle memory of playing together, that was quite powerful, how quickly it felt good. For about three months we'd jam at Novotone, then go back to one of our houses and order takeaway, drink red wine and listen to all the music we grew up on, and laugh our guts up. I think we all welcomed it as an extra, wonderful thing in our lives. You get older, and get children and jobs and everyone gets busy, so to have this one day of the week locked in was absolutely magic."

These days the trio look more like the Kelly Gang than The Killers or Kisschasy, and their sound is sandpapery when compared to the smooth pop sensibility of Dirty Pink Jeans. But the punk aesthetic has tapped their creativity and the songs come thick and fast.

"That was the spirit of Vicious Assault and therefore the spirit of [The Pitts], but it also suits time restraints," Drinkwater says. "The creativity can be really impulsive and quick. The Pitts is about simplicity, it's not about overthinking or being complex. It's music for a working town that you can drink beers to and enjoy."

Often bordering on sea shanties, The Pitts' abrasive, hooky and accessible songs are encoded with the history of their friendship, their proximity to the ocean, and their memories of surfing and skating together. As teenagers in the late '90s they'd watch surf videos after school.

"A lot of the music from those videos, the soundtracks, was punk rock and that's been an influence on [The Pitts'] sound," Long says. "And you can't live next to the Pacific Ocean and not feel that energy."

About 12 months after The Pitts formed, Family Hotel publican Dylan Oakes approached the trio to play at Bandaid, the first of his finely curated in-house festivals.

"When Dylan booked us it was such a relief to know we could still do it," Drinkwater laughs.

Gleeson adds, "When we first played I was shitting myself. But it was so much fun. To look around [on stage] and see these guys, to see Jazza behind the drums, it makes you so happy."

The Pitts wasted no time in recording their new material, working out of Newcastle studio and rehearsal space Novotone with Sean Cook of the band Bloody Hell. They will officially launch their first single, The Cowrie Hole, this month.

"When we first started it was just the joy of being able to play again," Gleeson says, "just some mates getting back together to play music, which we hadn't done for well over 10 years. We had no aspirations of playing live at all, but the catalogue [of new songs] got bigger and bigger and the confidence grew."

The Pitts have two songs available on Soundcloud with more to come. The playful aggression of the arrangements belies the inherent nostalgia and weathered sentimentality of the lyrics.

"A great mate of mine, Toddy McMillan, who's a really great video artist and painter, said the best thing about The Pitts is that it's funny without being silly," Drinkwater says. "It's sincere and evocative."

The Cowrie Hole recalls a time when as young men they'd watch more experienced boarders surf the potentially dangerous Newcastle locale at night.

"When there was a full moon they'd paddle out and get tubed and surf the Cowrie Hole," Drinkwater recalls, "and we'd be standing on our car bonnets with throwdowns [beers] in our hands, watching them. It was a real bit of theatre."

Long adds, "The combination of the moon and the lights from the [Newcastle] baths made enough light to see."

As for the future, The Pitts are happy to move at their own pace.

"The difference with this band," Drinkwater says, "is that no one feels the need to control or drive it too hard. It doesn't matter who comes up with an idea, as long as someone does. The bullshit aspirations you have when you're younger and the delusions, all that's out the window. It's so pure. It transcends any idea of being famous or a busy touring band. We have an agreement that whatever we do, whether it's someone's lounge room or a massive show, it's just got to feel right."

More than anything, The Pitts remain an excuse for three mates to get-together once a week.

"I think that's what makes the band what it is," Drinkwater says. "The time, the passage. You cannot have this band without all the history. It really is about three guys that adore each other and really want to commit to that weekly thing and follow through and create together. We've been collaborating since we were teenagers. Some guys catch up and play pool, for us it's always been guitars."

The Pitts launch single The Cowrie Hole at the Ship Inn on March 12. They will also support Holy Holy at the Civic Theatre on June 4. thepitts.net.au, on Instagram @the.pitts.band

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