This month, the band finishes a second round of European dates. And then, hopefully, comes some rest and time to write new songs. "When we finish touring, we need to forget everything that's happened and go back to the way we were before," says Nick, staring plaintively out the front window of the band's double-decker tour bus as it cruises through Northern England. "Back when it was just the five of us in our rehearsal space working on songs we thought would sound better than the previous ones. that's all we ever wanted to do."
In the downstairs lounge of the bus, Julian is listening to music and smoking a cigarette. "What did you want to be," he asks me, "when you were a kid?"
"This?" I shrug. "What about you?"
"I just wanted to write music that could touch people," he says. "A songwriter - you play a few chords and sing a melody that's been done a thousand times, and now you're a singer-songwriter. I think it takes a little more than that to do something that matters. And I wish I could write a song where all the parts work. When you hear a song like that, it's like finding a new friend. Maybe you've been fucking alone and looking for someone, and when you find them, it's like everything seems better. I feel like sometimes great artists - it won't politically affect anything, but it can make a crack in the ceiling and you can see a bit of light. You don't know what's gonna come, but you try. I think eighty-five per cent of the fun is just going for it. And not going for it for your own gratification, but making personal sacrifices to do it right." Suddenly self-conscious about having waxed philosophical, he looks me in the eyes and laughs. "Or not."