A different beat

Let's be honest: The Drums' eponymous debut is not a happy album. Dreary song title check; 'It Will All End In Tears', 'We Tried', 'I Need Fun In My Life', 'Oh Dear Jesus, No!', 'Why Me?'… all right, I may have made those last two up.

Perhaps I'm prejudiced by the record I've been listening to all morning, but I find The Drums in surprisingly cheery form, kicking back in their dressing-room in Dublin's Olympia, prepping for their second night piggybacking on Florence & The Machine's Cosmic Love tour.
Fuck the gloomy tunes, I think, these lads are downright charming! They're keen to know who I reckon is the greatest Irish band of all time (for them, it's a toss up between the Cranberries and Thin Lizzy) and have only great things to say about Dublin, despite having just been shown a picture of Jedward ("Wow… I'm sorry… We have Owl City.")
"Dublin's really cool," raves sticks man Connor Hanwick. "There's a good vibe here, it's kind of like everybody was just having a party last night. It was a really nice feeling having never been here and opening for Florence, someone who has something really big going on. Her fans are crazy – they put their whole selves into it."
"Yeah, we're jealous!" teases guitarist Adam Kessler.
But The Drums have their fair share of admirers too. While not a household name in their hometown of NYC just yet, on this side of the pond they're one of pop's hottest prospects – their po-faced style has been snapped by French Vogue and GQ while Boy George and Debbie Harry have both turned up at shows. Why do the young brooders reckon they're so popular with European music lovers?
Hanwick fields this one; "I think a lot of it has to do with the tradition of music in the UK. The UK since the '60s has been a breeding ground for really great pop music and not pop music with the connotations that it has in America. Pop in the UK could mean some band in a basement putting out 7" or cassettes. A band like The Smiths is the hugest thing over here but in America when you're a young kid and you know The Smiths, it's like a little club or something."
Indeed, frontman Jonathan Pierce's parents didn't help matters by banning non-religious music in the home. How did he deal with that?
"Like any other teenage boy," he shrugs, "I just rebelled. It's like anything in life; when you're not allowed to have something, once you get it, you're really excited about it. So not being able to listen to The Smiths and doing it anyway, it was like 'This is my thing!' You treasure it so much more... But The Smiths are just one band, there were a million bands."
True that, but it's Andy Rourke, Mike Joyce and Morrissey who turned up to The Drums' gigs at London's Deaf Institute and The Old Blue Last three months back.
"Andy and Mike actually hung out with us," Hanwick beams. "It was such a pleasure. We didn't meet… (the curly-haired drummer seems to struggle to utter the great Mozza's name)… him. It's cool that he showed up, but I think the crowd and the press were much more excited than us."
"It is exciting," adds guitarist Jacob Graham, "but it's also great that someone like (Scottish pop legend) Edwyn Collins comes to our shows. To us that's a much bigger deal and no one writes about it or notices! We're working with him on a song on his new album. He's great to work with and we clicked really well."
Only a year ago The Drums had yet to play their first gig and now they're all set for world domination, thanks in no small part to irresistible summer anthem 'Let's Go Surfing' – the one truly happy moment on the record – which was written on the day of Barack Obama's inauguration.
"I think that's the one time anything outside has influenced us," Kesler recalls. "It was so big, it was hard to ignore. He won the election and people ran out their doors screaming in the middle of the night!"
"We have no idea what's going on in the world," Pierce admits, "so for us to even be affected… it was a huge, huge thing for America. It really reminded me of that old photograph of the nurse kissing that soldier in Times Square – it was really that feeling, the whole country feeling united for just a few hours… that you could run up to anyone and kiss them, that's really rare in America. It's probably the most hopeful song – I think the only hopeful song we've written…"
Jacob breaks the tension with a joke, as is his custom when the subject matter veers a little too far down Woe Street; "I guess it really represents how fleeting we think happiness is!"