�Ah, pea soup,� says the Stereophonics� drummer, Stuart Cable, as his starter arrives. �Just like gran used to make.� There follows an animated discussion between Stuart, singer Kelly Jones and bassist Richard Jones about the relative merits of Stuart�s gran�s cooking versus his mother�s. It is not the kind of conversation all bands can have, but then not all bands grow up together as schoolmates in the south Wales village of Cwmaman.
They may have 3m-selling albums of classic guitar rock to their name and Kelly may have a new and somewhat foppish front-man haircut, but Stereophonics go out of their way to play down any rock-star airs and graces. Although they sell shedloads of records, when they talk of meetings with the Rolling Stones or U2, they cast themselves as interlopers in Star Land. Stuart sees himself as �still the bloke who used to drive the school-dinners van � but with more money�. As we are walking through Shepherd�s Bush market to the restaurant where the interview takes place, Kelly reminisces about his time on a market stall, and at the end of the meal he orders a coffee with the awkwardness of someone who would rather be having a mug of Nescaf� back at Pete�s Cafe in Cwmaman: �I�ll have one of those espresso things.�
Indeed, both Stuart and Kelly still have houses within a couple of miles of Cwmaman. Kelly has a flat in London as well, but Stuart lives in Wales full time, and it was in his garage that the band rehearsed the songs for their new album, You Gotta Go There to Come Back. This offers fans plenty of the band�s familiar straight-ahead rock sound, while also dipping a toe into soul and dance rhythms � new directions that will come as a pleasant surprise to those who thought Stereophonics were locked into 1970s-style rock, and bringing back a freshness that recalls their acclaimed debut.
Kelly began writing the album soon after the band finished touring their previous record, Just Enough Education to Perform. �We�d just bought a big rig to record our stuff live,� he says. �I went into the studio with Jim Lowe, who does our live gigs, just so he could show me how to use the equipment. We started demoing a couple of songs I�d been working on. We demoed the first two songs in three days. And then we just got into a pattern of doing a song a day. It seemed better than the old way, where I�d do a demo on an acoustic and bring it in on a shitty cassette and hope everyone understood the idea in my head.�
Having put together the demos with Lowe, Kelly decided that he might as well produce the album. According to Stuart, the result was �probably the most relaxed and enjoyable album we�ve ever made. No pressure to come up with the goods. Previously, we�d first record all the drums, then three weeks of guitars. But this time we�d do a bit of drums, a bit of bass, some vocals�.
�Sometimes, producers have to justify to themselves why they�re there, and they make you do a drum take 15 times while they mess about with mikes,� adds Kelly. �But I know Stuart inside out, I know when he�s going to get bored. Stuart�s head was done in on the last record.�
Indeed, the music press hinted heavily that the band were about to break up after recording Just Enough Education. Stuart, for one, was sick of working with people who wanted to get every sound perfect, rather than capture a performance. �I�m a big fan of spontaneity, and I get bored after 25 takes. You lose all the energy and passion,� he says.
Recording their cover version of Handbags and Gladrags gave the band a glimpse of another way of working. Kelly had been collaborating with Jools Holland, and asked if he could �borrow� Holland�s orchestra and producer, Laurie Latham, to record the track. Latham, a man who cut his producing teeth with punk-era bands such as Squeeze and the Blockheads, doesn�t hang about in the studio. Stuart recalls walking into the control room after his second run- through of the song. �Laurie said, �Brilliant. You�re done.� I thought, two takes? What have I been doing for the past three years?� There was more to the band�s apparent disintegration than weariness with modern studio techniques. There was also conflict springing from Kelly�s workaholic tendencies in contrast with Richard�s more laid-back approach. Within a week of Richard�s marriage, Kelly was pushing for the band to get on the road again. Richard, understandably, preferred to spend time with his wife. Kelly�s solution to this problem � a solo, acoustic tour � hardly helped to dispel the rumours that the band were splitting, but it did provide the break they needed, although Kelly admits: �It took us a year to grow up enough to realise that we both had a point.�
Choosing to rehearse the new album in Stuart�s garage was part of a policy for the three band members to spend more time working alone, as it was in the old days. While the title of the new album, You Gotta Go There to Come Back, sounds like a simple summation of the band�s flirting with disintegration before going back to basics, its origins were actually more of an accident. �I was in the studio one night and I realised that we�d spent three days working on a song and it was a complete waste of time, because we hated everything we�d done,� recalls Kelly. �And Jim just said, �Well, you gotta go there to come back.� It became a bit of a catch phrase. And I realised that it sums up pretty much every lyric on the record � going through a lot of obstacles, but ending up stronger for it. Our manager said it wasn�t snappy enough for an album title. So I said, �What was the last U2 album called?� He was like, er, All That You Can ... All That You Can�t ... All That�s Left ... um. Well, that sold enough, didn�t it?� With the title decided, it was time to introduce some new elements. Not that the band have made any radical departure from their classic (or, as their critics would prefer, old-fashioned) bluesy rock sound, but there are definitely signs of musical development. The band have filled out their sound with brass and strings and ventured into new, rhythmic territory on tracks such as I�m Alright, a slow, brooding song and arguably the best thing on the album.
�It�s probably my favourite song on the album,� says Kelly. �I wrote it in a hotel in Germany. I was listening to a Groove Armada album. And there was a song on there that had exactly the beat and the feeling that I wanted. And I thought, maybe I should contact them and just use a sample. But then I thought, no, that�s not really us. So I played it to Jim and said, maybe we can get the kind of weird, dark thing that we all like on stuff like Massive Attack�s Teardrop. We messed about with the idea and it just happened.�
Those who thought that Stereophonics� listening habits never strayed much beyond the basic heavy rockers Free and AC/DC will have noticed with some interest that casual �listening to a Groove Armada album� comment. �It�s good to have a change now and then,� says Kelly, who, until now, has been presumed to be firmly in the �if you can�t sing it with just an acoustic guitar, it isn�t a proper song� camp. �They find some good sounds, those bands,� he concedes. And Richard, in a rare contribution, reveals a liking for the French electronic band Air.
There must be a few soul records in their collection as well, judging by another of the album�s best moments, Maybe Tomorrow, which is likely to be the next single. �I was trying to do something we�ve never done before: that rhythm on the guitar, a kind of Isley Brothers vibe, and then you have to play everything kind of down and keep it breezy. That was a challenge for us.�