Curse or coincidence? Farce or fluke? Last time we caught up with Bush, guitarist Nigel Pulsford, through no fault of his own, was nowhere to be seen. Today, the day after their rescheduled Norwich UEA date, he is absent yet again. We won't take it personally and urge the man to take out substantial life insurance, should this here publication dare to approach the band for that potentially fatal hat-trick rendezvous. "We think he might have broken his foot," deplores Gavin Rossdale, singer and aesthetically appealing frontman on the previous night's mishap. "We had a bit of a crowd invasion on stage and Nigel stumbled. He landed on someone's shoe that was on the stage and buggered his ankle," continues drummer Robin Goodridge. "He leapt off the top of his amp, didn't he?" quizzes bassist Dave Parsons, still unaware of the actual misadventure. "Well..." explains Gavin, "It was a dramatic leap but it was well worth it!" Indeed, the most rock'n'roll impairment since old boy Keith Richards toppled off his library ladder... However, new Bush recruit Sacha Puttnam scoots around dynamically.

Bush's recent sellout UK tour has once again dispelled the unenlightened critics' hackneyed assertions that Bush are the biggest British band in the universal macrocosm that no bugger this side of the equator has heard of. Their first two albums, having collectively sold 15 million copies, meant that the pressure to propagate an auspicious successor was a feat in itself. Not least that in their three-year hiatus, dawned an era where the kids now demand hard rock/hip-hop in one marketable package. Try playing to a fastidious flock of urchins with just a bunch of guitars... Don't be daft. That's just soooo last century. "Well, I was in blissful ignorance because I wrote the record in Ireland, in isolation and didn't really know what was going on," begins Gavin. "I wasn't listening to anyone else anyway. It was only when we first went back to America did we check out what was going on." Gavin, a man who not so long ago claimed 'music has become so boring and predictable' had a lot to prove, not least to himself. "Boring and predictable? That depends whether you mean rock music or music in general, because if you look at music of the year at the moment, it's fucking dreadful. It's nothing to do with music as far as I'm concerned," he says trenchantly. "It's all to do with formula and white dance outfits and it's in a pretty grim state. If you're not in a pop group, you've gotta be in a folk band these days to be successful, so it's really weird. I think that we're always trying to do rock music in a sexy, emotional interesting way and I think that the scope is always there to be good." So Billy Corgan was inaccurate with his little 'Rock is Dead' conjecture? "Listen to his new album... The reason rock music will always live, is because it's the best music to hear live. Like Massive Attack who are probably one of my favourite bands of all-time, who I think are seminal and genius and I can't say enough good things about them - live, it's not the best thing to watch, whereas rock music is another story."

Here's the Science...

Some regard third album "The Science of Things" a deviation from the archetypal Bush, as seen on the multi-platinum 'Sixteen Stone' and 'Razorblade Suitcase'. Having proven so triumphant, why weren't they content with making another straightforward rock epic? "Because it would be repeating the process...," Gavin states matter-of-factly. "We've just tried to move on. Stretching ourselves and stretching our interests and becoming more textured..." With that his mobile rings, a polite blush ensues and he temporarily leaves the room, giving the other members a rare opportunity to get an oar in. "Look at The Clash, David Bowie or Elvis Costello. Lots of their albums vary in steam or theme," rationalises Dave, on their new-found experimentalism. "We have a choice of three distinguishable albums to play live, without them all being interchangeable..." But still not running the risk of alienating the die-hard fans with a slightly new direction? "We haven't changed direction," altercates Robin causticly. "The next album's gonna be a lot rockier. Fast and furious..." Dave agrees. "I think people have got a bit carried away if they think we've made a really electronic sounding album, I mean all we've done is incorporated more strings and electronic-oriented ideas but we haven't turned into a rave band or anything! And seeing us live proves that they're still rock songs, just with a different sound..." 'The Science of Things', rimming rock with a cool electronic edge, could ignorantly be regarded as a premeditated effort to escape that odious 'faux grunge' tag that perpetually bedevils them. "We have moved on. People harp on about it because they've got no fucking imagination. If a journalist wants to use the 'g' word..." Er, don't shoot the messenger! "...then they have such a fucking chronic lack of imagination. It's their problem, not ours. I mean the first record wasn't a grunge record... maybe there were a few songs that you could accuse of being the case. It's just guitar rock. Alternative guitar rock... It always has been." Dave explains in a more composed manner: "You don't make records for critics, you make them for yourself, so whatever tag they wanna give you... there's nothing you can do to stop them... Apart from put a fucking parental guidance sticker on the front that says that this is not a fucking grunge album..."

Rumour Mongering

Word has it that after the critical acclaim of '97s 'Deconstructed' remix album, Gavin was intent on taking a radical drum 'n' bass direction. He re-enters the room, giggling profusely, having overheard the revelation. "Well," laughs Robin, "...had that been the case it would have definitely been a solo album!" Hearing such baloney comes with the territory, it would appear. "I read a great 'rumour', well, it wasn't a rumour, it was an almighty fuck-up, in a paper on Sunday which said that Oasis are the most successful English band in the States," despairs Robin. "It said at the end like a footnote that there's this band called Bush who moved to America and therefore are now regarded as Americans. That's the most recent and irksome..." That's just for starters: "I think the one that we've turned into a banging garage band is quite a good one," laughs Gavin, "...and that we're spies for the government..." Allegations that, Dave, former member of '80s trash troopers Transvision Vamp, had scuppered Wendy James' plans of a reunion tour and that she wants his head on a stick and his goolies in a pickle jar, are also unfounded. After the laughing subsides, inquisition to an internet rumour that Gavin's been offered a Hollywood film role are met with contemplative silence. "I have a Hollywood cheese roll," he deadpans derisively. "But just when you bite into it, there's nothing there...," he analogises. "Sure it's not a ham roll?" queries Dave. "Definitely not a ham roll...," confirms Gavin. "No pigs for me..."

Crossing Over

As we speak, Bush shall be embarking on an extensive 'Campus Invasion' tour of America. With Moby... "It was our idea," Gavin explains. "We were asked who we wanted to take out on the road and we chose Moby. He seemed like a great idea. He's a friend of ours. He's talented, interesting... We always like going on tour with cool people," continues Gavin. "We don't see it as an ego divide..." Some may wonder if the blazing rock of Bush and the ambient outlandishness of Moby are the most compatible of combinations. "I think it crosses over, for sure...," Gavin justifies. "...I think we're both particularly emotional outfits, we deal in the human condition and how people feel about things. I'm sure there are divides where we don't share the same audience, but that's part of the fun of doing it. We won't just be preaching to the already converted."

As even your Great Auntie Gertrude will know, America was converted many moons ago. So now it's only the arbitrators, especially on home soil, having ceaselessly belittled them that need convincing. After all, having made the 19th best-selling British album of the 1990s, being the first British band to headline Woodstock as well as breaking airplay records on Stateside radio should count for something. "Now it's much better. All the crap that was around, when we first started seems to have fallen by the wayside...," reflects Robin on whether they've finally acquired the respect they thoroughly deserve. "We're getting it, inch by inch." Gavin, having taken it to heart more than the others, is also positive. "We have to accept that we're in that league where if you're successful, then there are always going to be people who don't like you, just as there are a lot of people who do like you." Being one of the UK's most successful exports, surely some recognition is owed. Take the Brits, for example. The Spice Girls were bestowed with an 'Outstanding Contribution to British Music' accolade whilst Steps scooped a gong for selling out a handful of arenas up and down the Isle. "We don't want to be associated with either one of those!" hollers Robin. "Neither do I, but I get the point..." retorts Gavin. "We like being on the outside. Really, it is the most sickly establishment, bullshit pile of crap ever. Personally I've got nothing against the Spice Girls, because I think they've served a purpose and against all those terrible drossy bands, at least they've got some spunk and the charisma to intimidate everyone they come across. I respect them for that and I think they're quite punky in their popness. We've done a TOTP with them and they just terrified all the men which is wicked in such a male dominated industry, most men in this industry are such sexist twats and full off self importance - so it's great when they're ground to a halt, by like say, Scary Spice..." Robin and Dave look worried. "But outstanding contribution to music?" Gavin says, salvaging his credibility. "That's a fucking joke. I think we're long overdue for some recognition - but not in the company of fucking Steps." Dave speaks for them all: "Wasn't it Groucho Marx who said 'I only want to join the clubs that don't want me as a member'? But in this case..." It is, it transpires, no great loss. "An award is great if you win one, if you don't then you can go and moan about it," Gavin shrugs. "Winning things like fans readers polls is much more important," he says safe in the knowledge that the band have earned a 'Best British Band' honour from the rock sound readers. "Ace!" he says, genuinely delighted. "Thank you to every one who voted!" beams Robin in a rare moment of heartfelt sincerity. "We've always had such great audiences," smiles Gavin. "I don't know if there's another rock band who does better than us. I mean, Oasis are not a rock band - they're a pop band." Visions of Robbie Williams side-stepping in the boxing ring to make room for Gavin in the blue corner are aroused.

Hunky-Dory

Gavin, unvoluntary leader of Hunk Rock and recent press fodder victim, still wishes his music took complete precedence over his sex-God status, but doesn't let it get the better of him. "It's just part of the whole trip," he indiffers modestly. "I think it's the whole weird cult of celebrity in this country. Like a TV chef gets just as much attention as a girl who gets her buttocks out for the cover of FHM. So it's all gone mad. And we fall victim to it because of the private life I have... We just don't court that, so it doesn't really go anywhere. I don't comment on it, I don't talk about it and I don't see it as trophyism - I just see it as a by-product of what we do. Until we get our butts out for the cover of a magazine, which I doubt very much we'll be asked to do..." We ask, in fact, we beg, but he strangely doesn't comply, on the grounds that it "might upset the photographer". "Look at James Major!" pipes Robin. "He's on the cover of Hello! magazine for having a formerly famous father and for knobbing Emma Noble..." They laugh heartily. "Yeah, Debbie McGee," jests Gavin. "What was it that first attracted you to the millionaire Paul Daniels? Hahahahaha!" They can afford to laugh. Bush are, whether it is admitted or not, in a position that every band would like to be. Having 'made it' across the pond themselves, which of their British contemporaries, have the propensity of cracking the U.S. of A? "Travis don't have a snowball's chance in hell," Robin predicts. "If it were the '60s..." he laughs smugly. "Yeah, folk music was really big in the 60s..." concurs Gavin. "They're un-pigeonholeable. We hate journalistic pigeonholes, but in America they have radio pigeonholes and you have to fit," Robin rationalises. "We're in the alternative rock bracket. They say (in comical American brogue) 'hey they're a rock band, they don't sound like fucking Motley Crue, therefore they're an alternative rock band'." Gavin graciously reveals the system that have acquired them Stateside stardom, unparallel to any other British rockband of this generation. "To crack America, it's effort and if people want it bad enough, they can do it," he says simplistically. "In America, the psychology is, you work a day job and you go and play in a band. You play hard and you play well, cos that's the American dream. The English dream is you think you look good in the bedroom mirror, so you practise the guitar, you leave school and go straight on the dole, cos we've all gotta pay taxes to look after you, because you're so important because you're in the best band in the world. Then, because you've get a few songs together, you're definitely the best band in the world and the world is going to come to you. And a few bands do get a few write-ups in the papers and the world does come to them, after seven minutes, in England. Then, they play a few shows up and down the country and a festival, then they go to America play three shows, one in Chicago, one in LA and one in New York and they go home and wonder why they haven't made it. In England, bands think they're owed it because they're so fucking good and in America, people are prepared to work at it..."

Food For Thought

"This food is absolutely disgusting," groans Dave, picking at an accriminating bowl of pasta. "I thought I saw someone cutting up some fuckin' saw dust earlier," adds Robin, spitting out an offending mouthful. So, in conclusion, tell us something that the world doesn't know about Bush. "What the world doesn't know about us, we treasure...!" Gavin laughs. OK, what's the greatest lesson, in all their worldly wisdom, that Bush have learnt. "Look after yourself and take vitamins," quips Robin. "Ah for fucks sake, Rob...," Gavin scorns, as they head off to the photo shoot. In a rush to make it to Manchester, for the final date of their UK tour, Robin suggests having the pictures taken against a blank wall "so you can scan in some wilderbeasts or something, later on." They guffaw at the prospect of "on Safari, with Bush, in the... bush." Well, it's only a matter of time... then the laughing stops. "Don't worry," says Gavin, pouting stoically for the lens, "We're always smiling on the inside..."

And then there were five...
Introducing Bush's new boy - Sacha Puttnam

"As soon as Gavin and I met, we formed Midnight," recalls Sacha, son of Sir David Puttnam on his former band. "Gavin knew exactly what he was doing and wanted to take it in a rock direction, but at that time I was being a bit 'London' and didn't really wanna do that, so I went off and hurt him badly," he recollects remorsefully. "The trouble is, just after I left, it started to sound really good! It's taken him all this time to forgive me." And forgiven him he has, as Sacha can now be regarded as the fifth member of Bush, having penned many of the strings and piano parts on current album 'The Science of Things'. But how did this reunion come about? "Well, I think Gavin was sending me to Coventry during 'Sixteen Stone' and 'Razorblade Suitcase', but just after that, I was back in London, teaching Tony Blair's kids the piano, during that whole nanny saga. I was also teaching film scoring at the National Film School because that was what I had studied for a long time, then out of the blue, Gavin invited me down the studio, which was just in the nick of time because I was getting stiff!" But was Sacha a fan of the last two Bush albums? "Well, sort of," he says diplomatically, "..but since I've spent time in America, I've really got the 'rock' thing, so because of Bush, I'm understanding it now, whereas I didn't before. But from a keyboard perspective, it's quite difficult to add to a rock band, because I really didn't want to do a 'Europe' on them!" Talk about being thrown in at the deep end - Sacha's first journey with Bush was headlining Woodstock! "Because it was the first gig, I didn't want to get anything wrong, so I think I looked up at the beginning and at the end!" Strangely, Sacha was also oblivious to the magnitude of Bush's success. "I thought we'd be playing to about three people at the Dog and Duck! So I was somewhat surprised..." So, is this a long-term arrangement? "I don't think I would want to play with anyone else. Muse asked me if I would play with them, which was great, but my loyalties lie with Gavin. So, unless he wants to get rid of me..." he laughs. "We have a little 'minds together' session before going on stage... Not like Michael Jackson summoning God or anything, but it's lovely. Someone has to come in with a thought for the night and it's the little things like that, that really bring you together..."