Kasabian

Possessed of an old school pomp that harks back to the days of rock royalty, Kasabian make no apologies for their unchecked egos and diamond swagger.

Tom Meighan can't sit still. The willowy singer for the Leicester four piece Kasabian is a bundle of raw, super charged energy despite the tranquil surrounds of the Buckinghamshire countryside where the band are currently rehearsing for their upcoming tour. Arriving at the country farm estate where the band have been ensconced for the past couple of weeks conjures disparate images of rock excess (the fully stocked bar inside the front door of the main house and black Porsche parked out front) with pastoral tranquility (leafy vines creeping up the antiquated brickwork, the sky stretched with vapour trails of overhead jets). When Tom parks himself down opposite me and fixes me with an intense stare, lank hair still plastered down from his recent shower, he is instantly so engaging and animated there is no in my mind that he was born to be a rock 'n' roll front man. It's obvious that the man is excited. Apart from the verbal tidal wave that washes over me about the new album and his enthusiasm for it there is the fact to consider that until recently Tom was temporarily between jobs. Not to say that there has been any inter-band bickering but after they ended their four year run of touring off the back off Empire the singer had nothing to do but wait around while guitarist and chief song writer Sergio Pizzorno wrote the new material for what would become West Rider Pauper Lunatic Asylum.

“I'm like a caged dog innit,” says the vocalist of his time waiting for new words to sing. “Serge is in the wild, he's in the trees, he's free and I'm like a caged animal.”

The waiting process for all was lengthened by Pizzorno second guessing his own production and handing over the album to Dan The Automator for a second opinion, who polished up the songs and put the finishing touches on the album.

“I mean we had the time,” relates Serge when he joins us later. “We could have brought it out but we thought no, fuck it let's take more time. You're always in a rush to do things and you're made to feel like that as well but we just used that sense of building anticipation and the extra 15% or so that we did was massive.”

Into their third album the band seems to have a firm grip on their sound, the lyrics a mixed bag of verbal braggadocio, lament for the state of Britain, the importance of good mates and the undeniable essence of love pervading all. On “Fast Fuse”, a song inspired by Jimi Hendrix, Meighan gushes “come get me/all you fuckers can't touch me/because I'm the reason you came/what a shame/stroke my mane/see my fist chopping off your reign. It's getting hotter/now I'm spitting out lava,” which Tom and Serge both agree is “proper Wu-Tang”.

This sort of egocentric lambaste is one that song writer Serge feels is now sadly absent from rock music.

“It's that whole fuck you attitude that's missing now,” he laments. “You don't have to actually say it; I mean David Bowie was saying fuck you, you don't have to be aggressive or a lad. It's that feeling of being with your gang, us against the world where anything is possible. I think English bands now are frightened to be rock stars. I liked it when there were bands taking the piss out of other bands, it's funny. Fuck reality man, I don't like it, it's boring. I really want a band to completely blow my mind. I miss the stars, the sort of person who walks into a room and you go 'fucking hell'.”