When the time comes for Supergrass to spill the beans in an autobiography, the easiest part will be coming up with the book's title - it has got to be called Growing Pains. What else can you call a rite of passage that involved juggling schoolwork with releasing records, spending your teenage years globetrotting and playing rock festivals, producing three chart-topping albums and being hailed as one of the brightest hopes in rock when you are barely into your 20s? The story of Gaz Coombes, Danny Goffey and Mick Quinn is the stuff of rock'n'roll legend, a dream many adolescents aspire to realise while playing air guitar in their bedrooms. However, as they would confess, their past sometimes weighs like a millstone around their necks - because they burst on to the scene as a bunch of young, carefree kids, they risk being remembered only for their juvenile bravado. They might be three albums and five years into their pop career, but for many punters the name Supergrass only brings memories of Alright, their 1995 crossover hit cherished for its youthful naivete. The way in which they hit the big time, with a single about being nicked for possession of hash (Caught By The Fuzz, a real-life experience for Coombes at 15), and became household names through singles titled Mansize Rooster or Going Out did not help matters. 'It all stems from [debut album] I Should Coco. We were teenagers when we first recorded our first album so it was bound to be haphazard and full of spunk,' said drummer Goffey. When Goffey entered the studio for the I Should Coco sessions, he was 19; now he is 25 and married with children. However, he still cuts a figure of youthful joviality. Indeed, the Oxford trio still look pretty much the same Supergrass that rocked the scene five years ago: there is Goffey, the jokey drummer with a face of a 12-year-old; guitarist and vocalist Coombes, a flurry of untended facial hair; and Quinn, the chubby bassist who forever looks stoned. In fact, their records still bear the band's logo of those years - the caricatures of three young men raising their limbs in the air like they just don't care. The trio in part grew up in the public eye, though they are probably the last to admit it. 'It's not like The Jacksons or The Monkees where you live right out of each others' pockets - I've grown with my girlfriend as well as my family,' said Coombes, 23. 'It's never been an issue; we're not ultra-famous. We're just a school band who's done really well.' Considering the jollity that plagued their first album, critics were looking forward to seeing the trio mature. In It For The Money, their follow-up release in 1997, saw the band progressing with a greater depth and texture, such as in the grinding angst of Richard III. The sales were disappointing, however. So now it is up to their eponymous third album to bear the load. 'Nobody's getting any younger, you just have to get better, I guess,' said Quinn, 29, now happily married with two children and living in rural Oxfordshire. Added Goffey: 'During these five years' time, we all listened to different music. We're just more relaxed than mature. There are still inane lyrics on [the new album].' Indeed, Supergrass has its quirky moments: Pumping On Your Stereo, for example, is a rowdy anthem not unlike Alright, while songs like Jesus Comes From Outta Space and Mary (sample lyric: 'I like to shock her on a daily basis/I Like to point out that her teeth are green') resemble their earlier material. Look beneath the surface, however, and there are melancholic currents. Moving, the album opener that deals with repetition in life (and touring), has a deceptive toe-tapping sound over lyrics full of resignation. Contemplation prevails on many other parts of the album. Shotover Hill and Far Away bear the influence of Pink Floyd, while amid the prog jam of EON the band can be heard mumbling about childhood memories. 'We are just a bit more experienced in the way the world goes round, in the way the music industry is, and how to present ourselves. It's a bit sad, really,' Goffey said. 'In the Caught By The Fuzz days we were just naive and we were up for anything. So we're [now] relatively jaded.' What changed, albeit only slightly if you ask the band, is also the bond among the three. Coombes and Goffey used to be the best of mates; friends since childhood, they have been playing music together since 1992, when the band they were in, The Jennifers got a recording contract from Nude Records. The duo used to share a loft before Goffey moved to London to live with his longtime partner Pearl Lowe, singer with Brit-pop also-rans Powder. Now Coombes and Quinn still live in Oxfordshire, while Goffey calls swinging Camden home and the brotherhood has been strained at times, such as last year when Goffey took too much time off working with Lodger, a project involving Lowe and members of Delicatessen. 'We do argue but we are quite patient with each other. There's nobody holding the reins or cracking the whip - apart from getting people out of bed in the morning,' quipped Quinn. 'But it's never become acrimonious, maybe we've had mornings when somebody's woken in a very bad mood - but we tend to apologise and give each other presents. 'Generally we still like each other, strangely, though we live in different parts of the country. 'We still get on, we still laugh at the same things, and still take the piss out of each other. It still works.' The entertainment pages are edited by Winnie Chung. Tel: 2565 2216. Fax: 2562 2485. BY: Fame and fortune has also meant the loss of innocence, Brit-pop band Supergrass confess to Clarence Tsui