Rumours of Desert Hearts’ death, it seems, have been greatly exaggerated.

Sitting on the opposite side of the table, squeezed together on a pub sofa – pontificating, elucidating, leaning forward with bright-eyed intent – Charlie Mooney, Roisin Stewart and Chris Heaney are in tip-top, barnstorming form.
“We have a plan,” Charlie informs us. “It starts with an A and ends with a B and that’s it –glory and happiness and power.”
In the inventory of tricks that Northern Irish bands are normally capable of pulling, unalloyed majesty tends to figure just about as prominently as, say, G-funk sexuality or esoteric experimentation. In a scene populated mainly by indie long-ball merchants, it’s a rare thing indeed to find yourself dragged from your seat to applaud a sublime first touch or a pass hit by the outside of the boot. But it does happen – the real, 3-D thinking, deal can turn up – and when it does, it’s a strange, thrilling and even unsettling thing to witness.
Two years ago, when Desert Hearts released their splendid and stately debut album Let’s Get Worse on Rough Trade subsidiary Tugboat, there was an expectation that it was merely the opening salvo in a long and glorious career. A series of uniformly ecstatic reviews (“The shitest one I saw was 3 out of 5 in Q,” smiles Roisin. “ Anyone who did hear it really seemed to like it.”) confirmed what many local fans had known for years – that this curious little unit had a capacity for huge, emotionally-fraught, lyricism that went well beyond the reach of their peers.
However, as the band’s contract with Tugboat held no provision for a follow-up single, and their lack of a manager scuppered any chance of a concerted British Isles gig-offensive, by the middle of 2003 they found themselves moored in a frustrating limbo – equipped with a record that was rapidly gaining a devoted, impassioned, following, but without the resources to exploit the opportunity to the full.
When news came through late last year that band and label had parted company, the temptation was to fear the worst. For everyone, that is, except the trio themselves.
“I got collared in the toilets a few months ago by someone in a local band,” reveals drummer, Chris. “ He was really upset. ‘You’ve an album out, why are you still playing the Pavilion?’ What are you supposed to say to that? It’s not like we’ve any regrets. My memory of that period is just of having a really fantastic time. We really enjoyed ourselves – got to play some brilliant places and meet some really great people. Nothing but positives, really.”
“There’s this thing in Belfast that we’re a washout,” adds vocalist and main songwriter Charlie. “But how many times have Snow Patrol been called washouts? We got to the stage where we realised there’d be a bit of a quiet period but instead of going the road of drink and oblivion we got our heads down and practiced and wrote loads of new songs. That for us was more important than sitting around wondering why the fuck we’re not in Singapore. Now we’re ready for it,” he smirks, “doing what we’ve always done.”
Which, you’ll be delighted to know, means knocking out a whole raft of superb songs. In the next few weeks, anxious fans out there will get a chance to charge into battle with their heroes once more on a number of different fronts; ‘Let’s Get Worse’ producer Andy Miller has chosen the magnificently brooding (“Would it shake your bones/Would it melt your head/If I was to tell you/That by 30 I’d be dead”) Gravitas and Hammer and Frogs as the double a-side that will launch his new label in June, while this month Jimmy Devlin is putting out Ocean (along with Robyn G. Shiels’ 2 Nights In June) as a split single on No Dancing. The latter track – a demented avalanche of a tune –is an instant reminder of why this mob operates under such a haze of high expectations.
“The network of people who were good to us have all been patient,” says Charlie. “The reason we waited so long to put out the single is because we knew this network was still there – in Belfast, in Scotland, in England, in Amsterdam, all over the shop. There are people who are there, who love us and have certain expectations of us. The last thing we’d want to do is put out a half-arsed single and go “worship us”. We wanted to go: here’s the best thing ever, now why don’t we all go for it and be rock stars again.”

‘Ocean’\‘2 Nights In June’ is available now on No Dancing