The drive from Leeds to Glasgow takes about four hours, three of which are spent traversing the divine British countryside that connects England and Scotland. Green hills roll away on either side, decorated with lush forestry and crumbling ruins. Today it is raining heavily (not very surprising for this part of the world), but it seems to only add to the beauty. Mogwai are on the stereo.

I first saw Mogwai play at the most absurd venue--a miniscule pub in Brighton with about enough room to swing half a cat. Maybe a large-ish rodent. About 30 people stood in a space about the size of my lounge and watched a bunch of short, sparkle-eyed kids do everything from coaxing the gentlest of sounds from their guitars to thrashing a snare drum to hold our attention. Harsh, drone-driven grooves mixed with soft, discordant melodies. Sometimes the noise filled every inch of the pub, and then it would empty right out. It was incredible.

Stuart Braithwaite, the closest Mogwai have to a frontman, is a perky young chap. We meet at the offices of Mogwai’s record label in Glasgow where he is distracted by a yo-yo. You get the impression there are precious few events that would hold his attention entirely.

For a band making mostly instrumental music, a lot of people seem to be interested. Are you surprised at what you’ve managed to achieve?

"We’ve achieved more than we ever thought we would anyway," admits Braithwaite. "I don’t know what that is, but we’ve definitely achieved something. It was probably when we suddenly realized we didn’t have to go and get more shit jobs, that we could do this and never work in McDonalds. To do something special that meant something to people-that was an achievement in itself. It’s all we ever wanted to do."

Was there a point when you realized things were moving up a level for you?

"We were in somewhere mad like New York or Paris and we were just saying ‘What the fuck are we doing here? Who let us into this country?’ I’d only ever been to England about two or three times. I’ve come to realize that a lot of people never get to see anywhere or leave the town they’re from. It would have been me too probably."

Mogwai have now seen the world. They’ve gone from playing tiny venues in provincial British towns to touring the States and supporting The Manic Street Preachers in the U.K. An unusual choice, but at least "a whole bunch of people got to hear some music they’d never otherwise hear," says Braithwaite. "I’ve got a lot of respect for The Manics for at least wanting to do that with support bands."

So can you not think of any words to go with the songs, then?

"I can, but they’re all shite," giggles Braithwaite. "Really cheesy. Either far too obvious and see-through which makes me cringe, or over-symbolic and getting towards pretentious. I’m getting better, but it’ll take a while. Although I don’t think we’re as good as the bands we look up to, we aspire to be comparable to them one day. Writing crap lyrics would be like letting the side down, I guess."

The band’s new album, Come On Die Young (Matador), proves that this bunch are gaining ground on the artists they adore. Sweeping melodies, twisted effects and mournful moments create a sound that demands attention, while most stuff you get in the U.K. right now demands no more attention than an average passing of wind.

"I think there’s a problem with the system British music has to live under," says Braithwaite. "There’s a problem with the amount of power certain radio shows and magazines have. I don’t really know if it’ll change. But then monumental things happen. You don’t always realize it at the time, but in retrospect you can see what things meant and how important they really were. Meantime, some bands are happy to admit that they’ll always be average. I think that’s a shame to do your job, commit stuff to vinyl in the name of art and know no one’s going to give a fuck about it in 10 years."

On the way home, it is still raining. It’s still not reason for concern. While the traditional notion of beauty is one of Dolce & Gabanna models in the sunshine, it’s easy to forget that there is beauty to be found in the darker, rainier moments of life. Dennis Leary once said something about life being shit, but every now and again you have a really great cheeseburger that picks you up for about five minutes, and it’s those moments that make life worth living.

It’s cold, it’s raining, Mogwai are on the stereo, the scenery is still breathtaking. It’s cheeseburger time.