Deemed trendy by absolutely nobody, Catfish and the Bottlemen have nonetheless been quietly picking up a fervent following by constantly touring. The young Llandudno guitar quartet’s debut album, The Balcony, even reached No 10 recently, although the band are still an anonymous, heads-down bunch who probably wouldn’t be recognised if they slipped outside their own gig for a cigarette.

Inside, however, it’s an alternative universe where the merchandise table sells £30 hoodies, and fans sing every word so thumpingly that frontman Van McCann (named by his Van Morrison-loving father) stops in the middle of songs to let them take over. And the songs themselves are itchily familiar, even on first hearing: the band are descended from the same line of chorus-heavy arena-rousers as Arctic Monkeys and Stereophonics, though the Bottlemen’s sound is mostly so basic that it’s hard to imagine it evolving to the point where they might consider adding, say, keyboards. Like the early Monkeys, too, the Bottlemen use the minutiae of their social lives as song material, though more peevishly (“I wanna love you, but I’ve no time for your friends / They can fucking do one,” is the opening line of Business; it sounds less obnoxious delivered live in McCann’s classic adenoidal yip).

They play the entire album, perspiring out the garage-metal of Pacifier - bassist Benji Blakeway must be drenched inside his leather jacket – and psyching out on the extended, and very good, closer, Tyrants. It’s sweaty, swaggering stuff, and the acoustic interlude – McCann alone on stage, looking like an abashed teenage Alex Turner as he strums Hourglass – is welcome. The Bottlemen represent some vintage golden age where EDM and technology never got a foothold, and 2015 is likely to be huge for them. They’d certainly benefit from a wider worldview, though.

• At Rescue Rooms, Nottingham, on 12 December. Box office: 0115-828 3173. Then touring.