Fratellis: Thieves and rascals

It hardly bodes well for intra-band relationships: a week before the release of their first full single, the Fratellis have travelled to London in different vehicles. Like Mötley Crüe in their separate coaches, the drummer, Mince - "It rhymes with Vince" - and the bassist, Barry, took the foreboding black tour bus, while the singer and guitarist, Jon, drove on his own.

Sitting in a grassy square behind the venue they will play tonight, the laidback trio deny they have already fallen out. "I'm just weird like that. I like my own space," drawls Jon, a proper rock star, dressed in black, from tight jeans to his Marc Bolan-style fuzzy hair.

They have certainly come a long way since they met as the backing band for a wedding singer in their native Glasgow, or so they claim. Jon is an inveterate storyteller, so it is hard to work out where the fact and fiction separate.

"We played all the standards, 'Lady in Red', '500 Miles' and 'The Way You Look Tonight'," the front man explains. "'Road to Hell' was a bit of a rubbish one, apart from for the groom. Weddings are fun, though we never snogged no bridesmaids."

Certainly, the band have emerged as a close-knit bunch, relaxed in each other's company and happy to share many an in-joke. In between nuptial engagements, the group ran a monthly night at a small venue.

They found their true path, though, when they sacked their drummer and then installed Mince, who was a guitarist, behind the kit. "The songs had to get stronger," Jon explains. "We had to have something to offer other than energy and tightness."

It was a move that brought them instant dividends. Bands are getting snapped up ever-more quickly, but the Fratellis, named after the baddie gang that baited the Goonies in the eponymous Eighties children's movie, take the biscuit. They started playing as a trio last May, and in September were snapped up by Island Records. Toward the end of the year, they were in Los Angeles to record their debut album.

"We've just had a week off!" Mince exclaims jokingly. "It would be nice if it was a bit slower," Barry says wistfully. "You sign your life away when you commit to Island. If we'd gone with someone smaller, we could have worked at a more leisurely pace. Everything feels a bit out of our control at the moment."

Not that the band have been overawed by working with the producer Tony Hoffer, who in the past has provided a glossy sheen to Beck and Badly Drawn Boy.

"You wouldn'a be scared of Tony. He's dead wee," Jon smirks. "Recording was the easy bit. When you've been hanging around in Glasgow for so long doing nothing, you look forward to it. It's just everything else that we didn't sign up to do - that wasn't in the job description."

Mince complains about the hectic touring schedule, that this year has already taken them to the US for dates around the SXSW festival. Jon includes the constant round of photo shoots. Unlike today's serious bands with their manifestos and bullet-point plans to change the world, the Fratellis are here to have a good time and ensure their fans do too.

Coming from Glasgow must help in this respect. While England has revelled in a resurgent live scene, it is merely business as usual in Scotland. Much of the gig circuit's recent buoyancy has been put down to the glamour of the Strokes and Franz Ferdinand, to whom the Fratellis admit they owe a small debt.

"We didn't have to travel to London to get anywhere," Jon explains. "A&R men didn't mind coming up to see us."

Otherwise they shake their heads at the art school scene that has been too cool to accept them. "Glasgow is too cliquey," Barry complains. "They wouldn't let us in. I'm sure they're all very nice, though." That might change if they achieve the recognition Island expects, but the band do worry the opposite might be a case.

"It annoys all those people that have been doing it for years," Jon says. "We did a comeback gig once we got signed and people were already saying we were shite live. They know who they are."

Not that the songwriter looks like someone who could hold a grudge for long, judging by his gap-toothed smile and dreamy demeanour. Nor is he someone who in his lyrics wants to put the world to rights.

"There's nothing true to life, they're all a bit ridiculous. It's not tales about chucking-out time in British cities. Don't tell me how rubbish it is, keep it to yourself."

Jon is more of a yarn spinner, the Beat authors providing particular inspiration. "Bukowski has that good one where he says if something is a struggle, just stop and wait."

You can hear Jack Kerouac's influence on the vignettes that form many of the Fratellis' songs, beginning with "Creeping Up The Backstairs" on the limited EP released in April. Then there is the forthcoming single "Henrietta", about a follower of the band who could get them into trouble because her "husband might cut them up".

"She's not a groupie," Jon says firmly. "She's older, a mother figure." Mince cracks opens his second can of Irn Bru. "In our practice rooms, there was a lady that made tea and that. We'd like her back."

There is plenty more in that vein still to come, from exotic dancer "Chelsea Dagger" to the troubled participant of "Knickers In A Handbag". Alongside the motley cast of characters, the trio cast their musical net widely from glam-rock stomp to blues shuffle.

"We've stolen the best bits from the best people. It's the way to do it now," Jon says by way of explanation. "There's nothing new, just variations on a theme."

Judging from the album sampler, every one of the tracks is distinctive - something that the band have striven hard to achieve.

"We're not a style band, so we have to have something more," he says. "When you see pictures of us, you don't think: 'Oh, they look great.' We have to be a bit cleverer."

Of course, playing in a wedding band would be an ideal education for this style of magpie thievery and giving them an open mind. The boys are keen to find out if the Billy Joel musical is still running.

Mince learnt his chops from a blues-musician father, who was one of the top harmonica players in his home city. Barry has been in and out of bands since he was 14, sneaking into venues so that no one noticed how young he was. Jon, too, has had to grow up in public.

"I was stealing from the wrong people for a while. I began writing like Bowie, but then I realised I had to sing in a Bowie-esque way. You just end up sounding ridiculous. I like to think now we sound like Dylan's conversation pieces."

Otherwise, the Fratellis are coy about their primary sources. At least they make clear the band's central mission - they have come to entertain us.

'Henrietta' is out on Monday on Island