Dubstar are in the ascendant. They’re currently celebrating the news that their album, Disgraceful, has gone gold in the UK by appearing as special guests of Erasure on their extensive “greatest hits” tour. During the summer, the trill-a-minute Tyneside trio headlined the indie tents at T In The Park and Reading Festivals and have yet to release a single that hasn’t gatecrashed the Top 40.

Backstage in the SFX, Steve Hillier (keyboard player, knob-twiddler and sharp-as-you-like-wit), Chris Wilkie (Smithsian guitarist who once sold a Fender Stratocaster to an ex-member of the Daintees), and Sarah Blackwood (quiet-spoken vocalist and art college graduate who once, ahem, surveyed the interiors of Dublin’s best known drinking establishments as part of a design project) are admiring the flashing ring that Erasure’s Andy Bell has earlier given Sarah, who will later make good use of its magic twinkling powers during, as if you couldn’t guess, ‘Stars’.

They must be immensely proud to have, within the space of a year, outshone most of the competition in the British pop firmament.

“When you’re working as hard as we are at the moment,” explains Steve, “you don’t really get the opportunity to sit back and enjoy your own achievements. So whenever anyone comes up to us and says ‘aah, that’s really good’ or ‘I really like the band’ or ‘I’d like to sleep with Sarah’, it’s a surprise.”

The first of Steve’s many masterful deadpan answers draws a communal coy chuckle but this leads to a more serious debate on, deep breath, male sexism – the subject of Sarah’s anti-Loaded diatribe, ‘Just A Girl She Said’. Has Sarah ever been given the “seen and not heard” treatment in the notoriously pony-tail and goatee-saturated music industry?

“Not really,” she replies. “though the music business is male-dominated. Men can get on with it and the women just have to look pretty.”

“It’s a good rule of thumb in the music industry,” continues Steve, “that if a bloke’s talking to you, he definitely wants to sleep with you – and the same applies to both sexes. I’m overstating the case here – I don’t suppose it’s any more misogynist in the music business than in any other industry. It’s just that . . .”

“If you really want to get on, you’ve got to sleep with the boss,” interjects Chris. ‘Nuff said.

Industrious souls that they are, the band have already written the follow-up to Disgraceful and plan to enter the studio around Christmas. “The new stuff sounds less sanitised than the first album,” reveals Chris, “which we sort of made a virtue of then - we wanted to make this great pop record.”

Which is exactly what Disgraceful is: a no-synths-barred, pristine, perfect pop masterpiece – in my book, one of the finest debut albums of the ’90s. Imagine Kirsty MacColl’s niece singing over a Pet Shop Boys soundtrack with Johnny Marr’s cousin on guitar and you’re close. Lyrically, it ranges from earthy, socially aware commentary to sky-struck romantic odes.

“There’s nothing more important in life than love,” declares Steve with aplomb. “Some bands shy away from singing about themselves and their relationships for whatever reason – I really don’t know why – but in this band, we’re all ruled by our hearts, even the drummer! Though you can bore people silly by going on about your boyfriend or girlfriend all the time.”

While sexual politics is the primary focal point of the songs, a track such as the inner city life-chronicling ‘Not So Manic Now’ could conceivably have had Ken Loach or Mike Leigh as its video director.

“I think it’s really difficult not to allude to politics in some way,” observes Steve, “unless you’ve got nothing to say. Everything you do is a political statement of some kind – even us sitting here doing this. Kissing your girlfriend or boyfriend is a political statement. I mean if we can sing a song about someone getting beaten up in a flat, I’m sure we can sing about Tony Blair as well.”

And what of the impending general election in Britain?

“John Major’s the most uncharismatic leader we’ve ever had,” proffers Sarah.

Steve nods in agreement: “There’s some awful things going on - the welfare state’s being tampered with again; people’s rents aren’t being paid properly anymore; they’re talking about putting canes back into schools. . . this is bad news. Maybe Labour will do something about it. But then again, they’re comimg up with the same policies that got the Tories elected in the first place. I don’t think anyone’s kidding themselves that there’ll be a left-wing government.”

Cue Billy Bragg, whose classic tale of doomed meteorological romance, ‘St. Swithin’s Day’, is given a seasoned going-over on Disgraceful.

Steve: “He’s such a great songwriter. It’s a shame that a lot of people are put off by the political aspects of his songs and by the fact that he’s not a million dollar singer – which doesn’t really matter cos you know he’s being sincere with every word he sings.”

Chris: “He says himself that there’s only two keys that he sings in: sharp and flat! He came on and sang ‘St. Swithin’s Day’ with us when we played the Reading Festival.”

Sarah: “The crowd went absolutely bonkers and I was in tears. There were some very highly charged emotions going on.”

Despite Dubstar’s requited affection for the Bard Of Barking, the thoroughbred Geordies have yet to be otherwise wooed by the beautiful south.

“When you live in the north,” Steve avers, “people are much more willing to talk and be frank with you and not watch what they’re saying like they do in London. And the bands that come from London are absolute cack! (communal laughter again) If you name-check the wrong band you might as well say goodbye to your career, whereas in Newcastle there’s still people doing heavy metal, believe it or not. Also, it’s nice and cheap to live there so you can survive as a musician and still drink loads!”

I’ll bet it’s not all Newky Brown Ale. Come on, what nostril-debilitating habits and the like have you all acquired on the road?

Steve: “It’s just beer with me.”

Chris: “It’s difficult enough keeping to this touring schedule. If you were to take speed or whatever as well, you’d fall over at the end of it and not get up again.”

Sarah: “I’m a Jilly Cooper novel addict. They’re so escapist it’s fantastic. When you’re travelling from place to place, you think ‘ooh, let’s get my head stuck into the Cotswolds and horse-riding!’.”

Dubstars may be about as rock’n’roll as the Queen Mum’s slippers, but pop’s crown jewels are perched, for the moment at least, firmly atop their head.