Ash: Unforgettable fire

Ash are back with their best album yet. Alexia Loundras hears how relentless touring has sharpened up their sound

It's Friday night, and Ash are huddled around a tiny glass table covered in full and spent pints. The band are in the midst of a string of intimate Irish dates to promote their excellent fourth album, Meltdown, and have spent today doing television interviews and pre-recording their appearance on the prime-time Late Show - Ireland's equivalent of Parkinson. It's a thankless and unglamorous task, which involves playing their current single, "Orpheus", to an empty television studio and playing every riff as though to a full house of crowd-surfing fans.

It's Friday night, and Ash are huddled around a tiny glass table covered in full and spent pints. The band are in the midst of a string of intimate Irish dates to promote their excellent fourth album, Meltdown, and have spent today doing television interviews and pre-recording their appearance on the prime-time Late Show - Ireland's equivalent of Parkinson. It's a thankless and unglamorous task, which involves playing their current single, "Orpheus", to an empty television studio and playing every riff as though to a full house of crowd-surfing fans.

Even with no one there, Ash milk their larger than life personas to the full. The front man, Tim Wheeler, plays the rock god to perfection, guitarist Charlotte Hatherley is the cool ice maiden and the perfect foil to Mark Hamilton's exuberant, shape-throwing bass-player. Holding court at the back is the band joker and drummer Rick McMurray, a man given to self-effacing humour and taking off his top. Despite the numerous takes, the band's enthusiasm never falters. And even now, confined to a posh yet soulless Dublin hotel bar, the band's spirits, and energy levels, remain high.

Indeed, 10 years into their music career, the band - who have an average age of 27 - are showing no signs of weariness. But with two No1 albums, 14 Top 40 singles, an Ivor Novello songwriting award (for the single "Shining Light"), a successful 10th-anniversary singles collection and over a million record sales under their belts, Ash have never been the sorts to slack off. They even count a spot in history among their highs - having performed at the Good Friday Agreement concert along with U2. "The one big thing we ever did that had any real meaning," says McMurray, passionately. But then, this band has never lacked ambition. As 13-year-olds, Wheeler and Hamilton hinted at their determination when they disbanded their Iron Maiden-influenced band, Vietnam, on the grounds of commitment issues concerning the other members. "Whenever you have someone who's cynical of your chances of making it, it's not going to work," explains Wheeler.

Ash were formed in Downpatrick, County Down, in 1992, when Wheeler and Hamilton recruited the equally motivated McMurray to their music-making cause (the West London lass Hatherley joined the founding trio five years later). Early taunts about being the worst band in town only strengthened their resolve, and by 1994 and the release of their head-turning debut single, the bristling lo-fi pop-punk, "Jack Names the Planets", the band's existence had been vindicated.

Ash were about passion over prowess - a trick they picked up from their inspiration, Nirvana. "We realised that we didn't have to concentrate on playing complicated guitar solos, "says Wheeler. "Being a good band was about energy, not just skill." Shambolic, but in a charming way, they powered onto the Britpop-dominated pop radar with explosive, space-dust powered music. Their debut album, 1977, (named after the year that spawned both half the band and their favourite movie, Star Wars), was a sonic blast of fresh air that yielded a handful of hit singles including nostalgic ode "Girl from Mars" and the anthem "Goldfinger", and slammed in at the top of the album charts. As album sales edged towards the half-million mark in the UK alone, Ash opened their A-level results live on Radio 1 and then took off on an 18-month world tour. All that and not yet 20.

"That mad success was such a buzz," laughs Wheeler. "We thought that no matter what, we'd continue to be huge - it seemed like we couldn't put a foot wrong. We were so hooked on the whole Star Wars thing, we believed success was our destiny. We just saw it getting better and better and we were going to write an even bigger, more pop-tastic album than 1977." But, with the release of their second album, 1998's darker, harder Nu-Clear Sounds, Ash plummeted out of favour.

Nu-Clear Sounds was not a bad album, but it wasn't what fans had expected and it had been a difficult record to make. On the one hand, struggling under pressure to match the success of their debut, but on the other desperate to rebel against expectations, the band were at breaking point. They decided upon a tougher, deeper sound, but lacked the musical ability to pull it off.

Ash's fall from grace offered them a valuable lesson in humility: "These days we don't believe in destiny quite so much any more," says Wheeler. Going back to basics, they holed up in Wheeler's parents' garage and got on with doing what they do best - writing sun-kissed songs, bursting with energy. In letting go of their anti-pop prejudice and embracing what they do, they rediscovered their sense of fun. "That time was like Gone with the Wind where they learn life's about being happy," remembers Hatherley.

The resulting album, Free All Angels, was an excellent return to form. It was filled with spirited tunes and vicious hooks that effortlessly hijacked the radio waves, spawning award-winning songs like "Shining Light" and NME's single of the year, "Burn Baby Burn". The album took Ash back to the top of the album charts, beating Janet Jackson to number one. The feat resulted in a momentary lapse in their newfound humility when, on hearing of their chart success, McMurray rang Jackson's record label and left a rendition of Outkast's "Sorry Miss Jackson" lyric on the voicemail.

Ash then turned their gaze toward what they jokingly call "the final frontier", America, doing what very few already successful UK bands ever do: they climbed in a mini-van and toured non-stop for a gruelling nine months. From performing to practically empty arenas in sweltering heat waves to supporting Coldplay, it was, they say, their toughest tour ever. "We had to work really hard to really impress people," says Hatherley. Although the "frontier" is still far from conquered, their back-breaking work is beginning to pay off. Not only did Ash earn themselves their own modest-sized headline tour, but the constant playing practice was priceless.

Harder, sharper and driven by powerful, searing guitars, Meltdown is the sound of a band coming of age. Recorded in California - in the very same studio that gave birth to Nevermind - with the Foo Fighters' producer Nick Raskulinecz, Meltdown is a bold and assured album, on which Ash pair their refined pop sensibility with the heavy-rock edge they've always yearned for. It's the culmination of their long, character-building journey where every blow they took, every humbling test they endured and every blazing success they enjoyed has left its mark. And, like the phoenix rising from the flames on the album's art work (taken from Wheeler's tattoo), Ash are reborn, better and stronger. "With Meltdown," says Hamilton proudly, "we've entered the start of our second era."

"Until now, I'd always felt we'd underachieved," says Hamilton. He leans forward intensely, "What's the word for when a ring is cast in The Lord of the Rings?" he asks. Without missing a beat, McMurray offers the word "forged" with the enthusiasm of a game show contestant. Nodding vigorously, Hamilton continues. "We were forged out of the smouldering remnants of late-Eighties metal and post-grunge," he says. "We always wanted to make an album like Meltdown and get name-checked alongside the bands we love, like Nirvana, Mudhoney, Sonic Youth and the Pixies, but we've never been good enough."

" Meltdown is a natural development for us after touring our arses off in America," adds Hatherley. "Because we had to raise our game on tour, now we're tight. We're not a shambolic punk band anymore. We're like a rock band now on stage - a proper band."

Things have fallen into place for Ash. And, in a denouement worthy of the very best feelgood flick, one of their heroes, The Foo Fighters' frontman and ex- Nirvana drummer, Dave Grohl - who was also recording at the same studio - became a fan of theirs, memorably popping into the band's recording sessions to air-drum along to the pummelling riff of "Orpheus". "I think Dave thought we were complete weirdos," says Wheeler. "He'd come to see us and we'd just sit there starstruck, staring at him." But Grohl is not Ash's only idol to reciprocate appreciation: the Pixies have asked the band to tour with them this summer - and the creator of Star Wars, George Lucas, has invited them to his Skywalker ranch, to talk about a possible collaboration. "Which," says an overwhelmed Wheeler, "is all very cool."

With Meltdown earning Ash some of their best-ever reviews, it seems they're poised to hit another career peak. But the band are not about to rest on their laurels. "We always want to be up there and rated," says Hatherley. "There's no point being lazy or complacent."

McMurray offers another, more pressing reason for their resilience. "In The Shawshank Redemption," he says, another of the band's favourite films, "there's talk of people being in prison so long that when they come out they die. Well, that would probably happen to us if the band split up - I don't think we'd cope with normal life.

"Or maybe," he continues on another movie tip, "the band is like the ring of power in The Lord of the Rings - as long as we've got it we can live forever." Ash dissolve into fits of giggles, but Wheeler has his own theory. "We're just Northern Irish stubborn," he says with a smile. "We just won't go away."

'Meltdown' is out now on Infectious Records; Ash tour the UK from Saturday until 4 June