When it was time for the band to regroup Cable suggested they do so at his house in Albernant, a mile and a half from Cwmaman. Kelly still owns the house in Cwmaman that he once shared with his ex-girlfriend � partially built with stone from a demolished local working men�s club � and Richard, who is currently renovating a house in the village, slept at his mum�s in a room decorated with Stereophonics gold discs. The band set up their gear in a room above Cable�s garage, fitted out with a bar and pool table. They worked on the new songs by day and drank in local pubs each night. A simple process by which Stereophonics got their groove back.
�That time was important for us,� Cable says.
�I couldn�t remember the last time we were in a room just the three of us.�
�It was pretty much the same as when we were 19,� Kelly smiles. �You sort all of your own gear out and you go to the pub when you fancy a pint.�
Squeezing into a borrowed British Telecom van to get up to London for gigs at the Bull & Gate pub in Kentish Town. Sleeping on the floors before racing home in time for their day jobs on market stalls and building sites.
�We were the only ones in that town trying to do something,� Kelly says. �People laughed at us: What are you doing writing songs about tramp�s vests? It was something to do. I know boys back home who have got nothing going on, they�re depressed, 30 and lost, and topping themselves. It�s frightening. We got lucky.�
In a village with a population of 1500, everybody knows who Kelly Jones is, but he can recall only one incident when an uninvited visitor came knocking at his door.
�It was Sunday morning in June. Richard�s uncle, a bloke called Bomper with a teddy-boy haircut, turned up drunk on my doorstep, telling me he�s written a Number 1 single for us. I was half cut from the night before and I don�t really know him. He walked in, took his shoes off and started singing, Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas! I thought he was taking the piss.�
As he shakes his head and laughs at this story, it�s clear that Kelly retains a great affection for his birthplace. Out of necessity, he, Richard and Stuart all live in London but, between tours, they each try to get back to Wales at least once a month; Stuart goes more often, for visits to his estranged wife and their two-and-half-year-old son. �I didn�t come to London to escape where I came from,� Kelly insists.
This much apparent from the cover of the band�s new album. The music might take its cues from American artists like The Black Crowes and the Isley Brothes (whom Jones cites ass the inspiration of the new single Maybe Tomorrow), but the cover is pure working class Wales. It features a photograph of Jones�s father, Oscar, sitting with his eldest boy Kevin in the Ivy Bush pub in Cwmaman. The picture dates from the early �70s, before Kelly was born.
Jones tried to keep the album cover a secret from his dad so that he would get the surprise of his life when he walked into Woolworths in Cwmaman to buy the CD. For clarity, Kelly confirms, �I do send him one, but he likes to support his boy.\"
The boy needs all the support he can get on the morning after Stuart Cable�s birthday. In a quite corner of his local, Kelly sips black coffee and picks at a plate of chicken and rice, his breakfast. His eyelids are heavy, his voice croaking. He wears flared jeans, pale blue vintage T-shirt and dark brown leather jacket. If the bar staff recognise their celebrity patron, they do not let on.
