MENTION Mick Pyro to anyone who knows him, or even just knows of him, and out will spurt a catalogue of stories recounting various extremes of drunkenness they've seen him in. It would be fair to say that - in Dublin at least - amongst people in bands and people who go to see bands, he has a reputation. "I don't want people to think I'm a sexist alco f**kin' pig, " he says over a pint of Guinness in a Temple Bar hotel, concluding a conversation that has completely deconstructed that very description.

Earlier, he had walked in, with his unique gait, hands in pockets and looking around.

Muttering something about using the toilet, he walked away and returned a few minutes later. His face was bloated, mainly his lips.

His nose was reddened, his straggling throat-length hair greasy. During the interview his hair is his main source of distraction - he is constantly pulling at it, scratching, ruffling, flattening, slicking back. His eyes barely peep out of their lids.

Sometimes they stay closed completely for entire paragraphs of sentences. Despite his now trademark slurred voice, he is articulate, serious and honest.

His band, Republic of Loose, came together like most bands come together;

from parties, chance acquaintances, ashes of other projects and a lucky break. The break in the 'Loose's case was winning "some competition or something, some f**king ?battle of the bands', " - as Pyro puts it - and getting 10 days recording time as a result. That period in the studio formed the skeleton of This Is The Tomb Of The Juice, their hilarious, offensive and hard-partying debut. With its stand-out track ?Girl I'm Gonna F**k You Up', the 'Loose secured a following with a thirst for their insanely energetic stage performances.

Then came the follow-up singles from their new record Aaagh! - ?Comeback Girl' and ?You Know It' - and all of a sudden Republic Of Loose were all over daytime radio and touring America with Snow Patrol. "We didn't know they were gonna blow up on the radio or whatever. Then they did." Pyro seems defeated in success.

"When we were making the album we didn't want to be like ?oh, we have these two hits, then go make more songs the same as that.' In a weird way it liberated us just to do whatever the f**k we want to do because we knew there'd be an audience."

The detractors say Republic of Loose are now just making music for radio. They clearly haven't listened to the album. The band have probably erased their album tracks from every playlist nationwide.

Profanities and stories of sex abound over complex and layered music, which at its core is extraordinarily clever. Above all, it's completely different from the fading crop of singer-songwriters and the new school of contemporary indie - the two most notable genres of the past five years in Ireland. The secret is the newness of their sound, and a refusal to draw from the reservoir of the school of rock. "I think what separates us from other Irish bands is the fact that we take from contemporary black music, " Pyro says. "Everyone else seems scared to do it.

We don't mind plundering that f**kin stockpile. That's the music we love. I never really thought about ?oh, we can't sound like this because they're black and we're not black, we're Irish.' I think that's a load of shite. . . We're not just four guys stuck on a rock ideology which is just out of date now."

The importance of being different without constraints is paramount for Pyro. The part he didn't like about school was "f**kin' rules, " and an adherence to rules is what winds him up most about contemporary Irish music. "It just seems so boring to me that everyone has to sound like they have the same influences - basically Nirvana and Radiohead, or Coldplay, y'know? There's a lot more shit going on than that, " he rants.

"There's such a vast array of music out there for people to take in. You do have interesting bands like The Immediate and shit. They're interesting, but they have a hugely diverse musical collection. I just think it would be more exciting if people started something, now that Ireland has become a more cosmopolitan place, and is more culturally diverse.

"You always have to be segregated in Ireland between hip-hop and rock, yaknowwhadimean? There's a big hip-hop scene, but it's very codified and based on these ideologies that are very kind of 1990s and very outdated. Rock bands have to be copying everything they see in England, which I think is pathetic. I don't think that scene has much to offer. It hasn't produced many great bands. It's about fashion and identity. To me, most great Irish acts, like Van Morrison, Rory Gallagher or Thin Lizzy, they all touched on black music, African-American music and contemporary American music. They were all able to dip into that pool. [When] Van Morrison started doing soul music, it wasn't like he was tapping into something that was 30 years old, he was doing the same type of shit his peers were; but over here, everything has to marinate for four years before people f**kin think it's actually cool to draw from that well. So they just do f**kin skinny NME whiteboy rock."

His anger turns to frustration when his own character is discussed. Pyro seems preoccupied with the opinion others have of him. He's convinced it's a false one. But mainly, he's worried about how that impression might rub off on people's opinions of the music. "People just pay attention to ?oh yer man Mick is crazy, he drinks loads, he doesn't wash, he talks about sex in his songs, ' but if people just get that, then I'll be very disappointed. If people see this as a pretty f**kin pungent force of music, look at the ideas, and are influenced that way - that'd be much more exciting than just copying the attitude or whatever the f**k it's meant to be called. . .

The image of me going round is just that I'm a crazy drunk guy who goes mad on stage who talks about ?f**k this, f**k that, ' in songs. But I'm pretty much an introverted person."

To introverted can be added uneasy and uncomfortable. He makes eye contact fleetingly three times in an hour, and looks hungover, knackered or drunk. He always looks this way, in fairness, possibly due to the lifestyle the band has. He's scared about this next tour, which includes a countrywide jaunt taking in the UCD student ball and more gigs that will eventually cease mid-June.

"I'm worried about every tour, " he sighs.

"It's just that, I like a bit of a break, " he looks around, mumbles and scratches his head, "and we didn't have a break. It is tiring. On stage we're all running on energy because we're having such a good time. I think if you're enjoying it, it helps you move.

But you have to be careful as well. I mean, drinking too much and taking too many drugs, you have to be careful." Is the band ?careful'? "Nah!" he scoffs, "that's the problem!" he adds with another chesty laugh. "You act the wag, y'know? I've f**ked up one, ONE, major gig in London. That was a warning sign for me, not to get too drunk before gigs. So I don't really drink that much before gigs now." He pauses. "I take a lot afterwards, but I mean, it's just, you know, it's something I'll have to deal with. I can't keep going like this forever.

"What are you gonna do? Go play scrabble? Especially us, there's no way we could be cool when we walk off [stage]. We give everything. When you give that much of yourself, you know, when you walk off, it's not like you can just. . ." He searches for an explanation. "You just have to wind down.

The only way you can do that is chill with your mates, have a few beers, smoke a few joints, whatever. I think if you stay away slightly from the class-As you can survive long on the road." I wonder what ?slightly' means.

Pyro confesses he spends most of his time reading. His MA in Renaissance Literature is, in the context of everything we've spoken about, a curiosity. "I love the aul Shakespeare shit. . . I read a lot of postmodern poetry recently. I like contemporary American novels. My favourite shit in terms of novels is Dostoevsky, I suppose. I love the Russian shit. Balzac, I like the old European shit."

My recommendation of Michel Houellbecq registers (the depression, the selfobsession, the sex - the dude could be Loose's seventh member). "Hmm, I haven't read any contemporary French stuff, just the old school Balzac. I go through phases of reading loads, but sometimes it's just watching TV and spazzing out. Smallville or some shit!"

Later, out of the blue, he references Nietzsche. "I don't think there's any one healthy great way to live. I think you can find your shit any way. You can find your shit and take it. Take what you have and make the best use of it you f**kin can.

It's like that Nietzschean self-creation thing.

That's what we're kind of doing in this f**kin band, we're creating our own mythology, our own value system, creating our own aesthetic form and structure, and completely ignoring what else is going on around us. Like that self-creation thing. I realised that you can do that once you stop thinking about barriers that are in your way, to stop you expressing something - then you realise you can basically do anything you want.

"That personal freedom is such a valuable thing. It's about the only thing you have as human beings: the freedom to create our own aesthetic. Nobody can take your brain away from you, nobody can take your thoughts away from you, nobody can take your ideas away from you. I think you should allow yourself complete abandon, complete freedom with your ideas and never let anything get in the way of them. I think that's when life becomes poetry. That sounds quite convoluted. . ." his voice wanders.

With a final chat about his proposed tour survival plan, he's off. Lighting a cigarette with shaking hands, he passes a busker singing ?Hallelujah', and enters the Ha'Penny Inn.

Aaagh! is out now.

Republic of Loose play the Heineken Green Energy Festival next Bank Holiday Weekend