By all accounts, the first chapter in the career of Two Door Cinema Club didn’t exactly end well.

It was decidedly rosy in the garden for a long time, of course; two massive albums, an international reputation beyond the dreams of most young bands, and the world truly at their feet. At which point, the trio of Alex Trimble, Sam Halliday and Kevin Baird raised a collective leg and booted the world as far from TDCC as they possibly could.

So as we catch up with guitarist Sam, Hot Press is sneaking glances for scar tissue or residual damage from the rather abrupt application of the brakes back in the summer of 2014. “There were no punches thrown,” he reports. “Though it probably would have been better if we’d just got it out of the way, climbed into a boxing ring or something! It was easier to be passive aggressive than to have bust-ups, because you knew you were going to have to see that other person for the whole of the next day – or, as the case was, the whole of the next year!”

Until, of course, they didn’t see each other at all.

“Alex had anxiety and stress, and he was suffering from depression as well as any issues we had interpersonally. When that manifested as a physical illness, and Alex had stomach problems, it was a red flag for all of us. We had to take time off, and cancel a few shows, and that’s when we realised it had gone too far. It had all gotten a bit too important, and we needed a break to have a life outside the band.” There were warning signs, of course – though with the illuminating effect of hindsight, they seem a lot more obvious than they did back then. “It was a situation where we didn’t know anything else. For five years we hadn’t done anything other than the band. We lived together, worked together, and went on tour together for far too long. When we drifted apart, we did so quite naturally.”

From some of what the band has said since their glorious comeback began in April with a handful of barely disguised ‘secret’ shows across Ireland – Tudor Cinema Club how are ya? – it doesn’t seem unreasonable to deduce that Sam had an easier time of it than his bandmates. While bassist Kevin has spoken at length on his mental health struggles, and frontman Alex shared the addiction issues that arrived with his own depression, most mentions of Sam’s downtime seem to centre around a new-found passion for cooking and DIY. Are we missing something? “I just tried to keep busy,” he says. “Depression is not something that everyone suffers from, it affects people differently. It might help that I’ve always had a girlfriend through the time with the band, so I feel I have someone I can share the experience with – and sometimes take a step back and get out of it. But then I was affected in another way, having to see my two friends go through something really horrible.”

The recovery took time. The band barely spoke for six months, and fully two years had elapsed before their reappearance on the live stage. But it was time well spent – for reasons other than Sam’s culinary progression – as some important truths began to reveal themselves.

“The thing we all realised was that this band isn’t the most important thing in the world,” he reasons. “The thing is, though, for a while it really was, because it was the only thing that we had in our lives at the time. We didn’t realise that nobody wanted to tour as much as we were doing, but we each went along with it because you didn’t want to upset anybody else. Once we had the distance from it we realised that all the silly things that we got worked up about before aren’t actually that important after all.”

What changes, then – apart from Alex’s accent, which continues its Transatlantic drift – are noticeable as the story of Two Door v2.0 begins?

“I think the approach has changed this time – though it’s kind of hard to explain. It’s trying to take a step back and look at things through a bit of a window. It’s making time for other stuff. It’s about being ourselves too. Part of the problem before was having to pretend to be something you’re not, or doing things that aren’t natural to you – and you don’t want to do – because you’re ‘meant to do it’ to better your career. We’re taking everything with more of a pinch of salt, trying to have fun with it.”

Proof positive arrives this month in the shape of Gameshow, the band’s third LP. Tempting as it must have been to go for a hat-trick of high-octane, don’t-bore-us-get-to-the-chorus efforts, the new album has far more in common with ‘80s funk and synth-pop than their own patented brand of pedal-to-the-metal indie disco.

“We’ve always wanted to make dancefloor music, but the way we’ve done that before is by going 100mph from start to finish. This time we tried to branch out a bit, and explore more grooves and rhythms.” Sam grins: “I think it’s good for us, getting a little older, to have a few tunes in the set where we can slow down for a bit!”

It’s not merely an impressive record on its own merits, but also a strong riposte to the those who may have written the band off as one-hit-wonders, adjudging sophomore effort Beacon to be an overly-safe follow-up to stunning opening salvo Tourist History.

“Beacon was a bit safe, yeah,” Sam nods. “You get put in a box as a band, and I think we felt we didn’t want to stray too far from that. You don’t want to annoy anyone, or risk your fans not liking it. But time away gave us some distance from being TDCC, in a way. When it came time to make this album, it was just the three of us.”

Not, mind, that influences – both direct and otherwise – don’t show on this record.

“In studio we listened to a lot of Prince and Motown records,” explains Sam. “We were getting ideas from there. Working with Jackknife Lee helped in that respect too. He loved the fact that it was three lads in Ireland who were making this music. Getting Alex to sing in that falsetto, y’know, he’d say, ‘You’ve no right to do that. If you were the same band in Whelan’s doing this, it would be weird!’”

The Prince influence is certainly evident. ‘Invincible’, for instance, sounds like their love song a la The Purple One. But there’s also hints of everything from Nile Rodgers-esque disco to brooding Krautrock. Reasons for the reversion to styles of yesteryear might be hinted at within the lyrics, which make no secret of a disdain for social media, the internet age, and the general pace of modern life.

“From Alex’s point of view,” notes Sam, “the lyrics come from having a chance to observe from outside of his own world a bit more, and consider how he doesn’t quite fit in.”

Of course, among the legion of bands whose excitement to tour can scarcely be contained, the trio don’t quite fit in either. Other groups can’t wait to hit the road; are the new, sensible TDCC just looking forward to coming off it again?

“I don’t know if we’re at that point quite yet,” Sam laughs. “We’ve just been through the summer festival run, so we’re already feeling the effects. I think it’s about keeping ourselves anchored this time. We’re definitely not drinking or partying as much! But we’ve been trying to figure out an Australian tour, and it’s tough, because we’ve had to say no to a couple of things. It quickly gets to where a two week South American tour goes straight into three weeks in Australia, and that’s the sort of thing we want to avoid.

“It’s hard to say no to these things, because they all sound like so much fun on paper. That’s the thing – we’re living the dream in many ways, so you feel like you can’t really complain about it. It’s the little things, though, that we’re more aware of this time – to look after your body, look after your mind, and look after each other.”

Gameshow is out now on Parlophone.