When you release two albums in as many years, you’re probably making trouble for yourself.

The Shoos burst out of the traps in 2011 with Rescue Room; the following year’s Panic Slowly indicated a group with designs on making their rise an altogether quick one.

It’s because of those rapid-fire releases that a few Shoo-less years felt like an eternity. That the duck is broken with the release of their new eponymous LP comes as a relief to those wondering where the affable Dubliners had got to – though for the band themselves, relief isn’t the right word.
“That suggests too much of a struggle,” bassist Steve Maher points out. “The writing process didn’t take three years, it was the recording that took the time – and mostly for good reasons. By the time we had finished each song the way we wanted, and sent it off into the sunset, three years had passed. As we keep saying, it’s not a long time if you want to make it good.”

Frontman Steve Fallon – known to all and sundry as Tex – grins. “We’re not lazy, is basically what we’re trying to say! At times it felt like ages, given the way things change so quickly in this industry. We were itching to get back out there, but we really were really focused on nailing it. We stopped ourselves from rushing the album until it was right.”

While there was little by way of an exact masterplan, the new record marks a more seasoned approach for the group. The addition of guitarist Joe O’Connor – who along with Scott Maher completes the quartet’s lineup – brought a rocky Americana edge to proceedings, “along with a real ‘fuck you’ attitude that we all banded around,” says Tex. Slagging from their mates meant a move away from love songs, while the years played a part in producing a more mature feel too.
But perhaps the biggest factor in informing the record was a grounding in realism — the importance of which the band learned the hard way. After all, it’s not long ago since they were on the books at Universal and Interscope, dreaming of international stardom.

“Looking back, it was a bit of a raw deal,” Tex admits. “It was great when we were there, but when the US economy hit rock bottom it was last in, first out. That was a kick in the teeth, and it took us a long time to get back from that. It was a serious setback, for just about everything. We could easily have gone our separate ways at that point, but we’re too dumb to break up.”
“It was a stepping stone towards America,” Steve says. “That’s how we saw it. We thought we’d pack our bags, sell our belongings, break up with girlfriends and off we'd go. It took a while to get the drive and enthusiasm back at that point.”

The energy is very much back, though, and so is a renewed sense of purpose. Ambitions of pop stardom and radio domination were kicked to the kerb, replaced by a desire to make songs all for themselves.

“You can become obsessed with radio play,” Steve confesses. “Is it hooky enough, does it take too long to hit, even the length of a song becomes a concern – ‘Can we get this closer to 3:30’? This time, we wanted to take a break from that. It was, just go away and write a song. The Shoos of a few years ago wouldn’t have had the confidence to try that. A lot of the best songs are drawn from experience, so we mightn’t have been able to do it if we’d wanted to – but even if we were able, we’d probably have pussied out.”

Instead, the new collection is a decidedly grown-up affair. There are songs about family and growing up, with a measure of social commentary to boot. Musically, the record veers from the bluesy swagger of ‘Hook, Line and Sinker’ to the balladic ‘Underwater’.

“There’s still radio-friendly tunes on there,” Tex proffers. “There’s plenty of poppy rock songs – hell, there’s a full-on, hit-it-and-quit-it, two-and-a-half minute tune called ‘Top Of The World’, complete with cowbell running the whole way through. But going for a radio hit is a bit futile. Maybe that’s what it was all about back in the day, but it’s not the case now.”

It begs the question which plenty of bands have to tackle at one point or another: with fame (of any meaningful form) and fortune (of any form at all) proving increasingly elusive, just what do a band like The Shoos hope to get out of their third album?

“We have to be in it for the love,” Tex reasons. “There sure as hell isn’t money in it!”

Growing serious, he says: “We’d like to get up on stages we haven’t been on before. We’d love the opportunity to play for as many people as possible, and if we fail from there then we’ve only ourselves 
to blame.”

Shane continues on the same theme: “That’s the feeling we had back in 2010, when supporting Maroon 5 or One Republic. We could play these massive, packed-out venues — with everyone there to see them, obviously, not us! – and have a go at blowing them away. We got used to playing to those sorts of crowds fairly quickly.”

Tex laughs: “We decided pretty early on that we were a stadium rock band. But seriously, that’s what got us signed at the time, because they could see we weren’t intimidated by that level, or shying away from 
those stages.”

Having run the gauntlet of highs and lows, and emerged on the other side, there’s a gritty determination about the band, as they share an album that may just define their careers from this point on.

“And even if it doesn’t work,” Steve shrugs, “we’ll just try again. We’re still too dumb to break up.”

Tickets are on sale for The Shoos at The Workman’s Club on 26 May. The new album, ‘The Shoos’, is out now.