Just name and location are sufficient to evoke mental horror pictures of finger in the ear Fenland folkies reciting scrumpy-fuelled bawdy ballads concerning lewdness in farrows and the lesser wholesome aspects of the Viking invasion. But think again...

A single with the spectacular moniker of ‘I Don't Want To Live With Monkeys'. A flash brash, funky conglomeration of sound, catapulting the listener into a frenzied two-minute bout of manic gyrations and all round limb blurring. See recent Single Of The Week segment for details (or the Higsons scrapbook, where grubby fingers have already been at work with the paste brush).

Equipped with a week's rations, trusty compass and attired in regulation British explorer's garb of tweed jacket and over-sized plus fours tucked into special ultra-tough wellies, I ventured unfearingly into the man swallowing swamps that divide the settlement of East Anglia from civilisation as we know it.

After meeting the fiery five-piece I’m pleased to be able to report that they bore only faint traces of barbarism and even conversed in a form of English.

We retire to the cosy dwelling place of voice artiste and local boy making good, Switch. Here we initiate the consumption of several bottles of the finest (i.e. filched from last weekend's party) wine, a ritualistic welcoming ceremony for visiting strangers.

The talk turns to things historical and it transpires the four other ragged youths are not Norwich's finest, at all but drawn from all corners of the globe, lured by the reek of academia from that great seat of learning, the University of East Anglia. By pursuing a head down, teeth clenched, investigative journalism technique, I unearth some tales of curious pasts.

Bass person Colin spills some beans: "We all met at University. I'm from Liverpool and was in Wah! in the very early days, playing guitar along with Wylie. This guy called Steve Tempo, who now roadies for the Teardrop Explodes, was selected to play bass but he couldn't play it. So I moved to that but packed it in to come down here to the Uni in September '79.”

Sticksman Simon gulps down more wine, rolls around on the floor and announces with great pride: "I'm from Camden Town, I was in the Homosexuals and also the Alex Harvey Band.”

Our assembly erupts into laughter at this last admission.

Terry, brass blower and one-time twanger has just walked in carrying several bags of well-vinegared, steaming chips. He trips over the cat and knocks over a wine bottle as the French fries fly through the air. The wine soaked carpet is now lapped by eager tongues.

Did he really say Alex Harvey Band?

Simon: " 'The Mafia Stole My Guitar'. I was, on that album and we did a few tours which mainly fitted in with the university holidays."

Mine host, Switch, owns up to having been part of Norwich's first punk band, The Right Hand Lovers (ahem), the aforementioned chip fetcher Terry belonged to Hornchurch's Undead while Stewart, the regular guitar-wielding Higson, survives the intense scrutiny and will admit nothing, other than being from Bristol.

Simon: “We all used to mess around thinking wouldn't it be great to have a band. There aren't exactly a lot of bands in Norwich and the ones at the Uni all take themselves too seriously. We started doing ridiculous entertainments for our friends. This was at the time when everybody was calling themselves the Teardrop Explodes or whatever, we wanted a name that wasn't serious.

His (Switch's) name is Higson so we took it from that. It's not named after him though, it's more like a pisstake of him.”

Stewart: "It's easy for media people to slag off students but if you're a student with a band you're in a much better position than being on the dole with a band. You get more money from the grant and if you're in the position to do it, then why not?"

Despite this last remark Stewart is no longer to be seen strolling intellectually around the campus.

Likewise Switch, who explains: "I left last summer and, apart from being a pop star, haven't had a job. I was studying English and American Literature with a minor in Film Studies. So was he (Stewart) but he was removed."

Stewart: "No, I removed myself. My Mum's going to be reading this."

The first slice of Higson vinyl to roll from the pressing plant and do duty in the racks of your local disc dispenser took the form of two helpings contained on the (Oh no! Not another regional) compilation album, entitled 'Norwich, A Fine Town' issued on the engagingly named Romans In Britain label last Easter.

Colin: “Romans In Britain was three students from the university, who were enterprising young capitalists and wanted a means of income to live on after leaving."

Stewart: “It was supposedly a Norwich compilation but they just drew on Uni bands. A lot of good town bands got left off." Switch : "Our stuff on it is really tinny sounding. We recorded it on an eight track in Terry's bedroom. It was only intended as a demo."

Colin: "A clause in the Romans In Britain contract said if they issued a single within six months we'd be signed to them for a year.”

'I Don't Want To Live With Monkey's' was captured onto tape at Spaceward Studios in June.

Colin: "But everyone had hangovers that day. Major party the night before, you know.”

His facial features form into that contented look of nostalgia, well known to serious hedonists when reminiscing.

Switch: "At gigs 'Monkeys' was the most liked but we prefer the b side 'Insect Love'. It's more like what we do now.”

Simon: "The single is about the second thing we ever did. We never really had our own sound until recently. The Mighty Higsons Sound."

Those who’d sooner drift to the land of nod with the John Peel Show rather than cocoa will have been shaken from their soon come slumbers recently by that very Mighty Higsons Sound being blasted along their aural cavities by the way of a session that has so far been beamed to the countless millions three times in the last five weeks (is this a record?).

Simon: "Peel said there was nothing going on in Norwich so we wrote a letter to him and he came to see us at the Gala Ballroom. He played the album tracks. He's the only person playing good stuff on the radio. But to fill out the two hours he does something play a load of shit."

Terry: "He seems to like the session more and more. He was quite cool about it at first but the other day he went completely mad."

Simon: "My mum bumps into Terry Wogan sometimes in the BBC car park. I told her to give him the single. A Radio Two band we'll be."

The Peel tracks and the 45 flip mentioned above veer from the purely good time knees up jollity of 'Monkeys' into a lyrically, dare I say it, more thought-provoking terrain. Musically they stretch out more and are less ferocious but maintaining a well gelled and exceedingly tootsie-waggable rhythm. Unlike the po faced ersatz funk brigade this is dance music you can dance to.

Anyone for ACR?

Simon: "I'm a great fan, I wouldn't say we're influenced by ACR but there's certain things they do which we've been doing as long. They're too serious though."

Stewart: "I think their album's terrible. On the one hand they say this is music to dance to and on the other they might as well be Joy Division with a good drummer."

Simon: "They've listened to a lot of funk and taken bits out and tried to put them back together but they could never get you to dance.”

Colin: "But our stuff will make you dance.” Switch: "We all have different tastes. We’re not a funk band anyway."

Colin: “Modern funk is just the 4/4 beat. Not a single song of ours has that disco slap. If that's modern funk it's not us at all."

Terry: "I've never heard an ACR album in my life."

Stewart: "It's not a patch on Mozart."

This last statement being a reference to a point earlier in the day when the six of us had undertaken to traverse the city crushed to the bone breaking limit in Terry's tiny vehicle, verily a Dinky toy with an engine clicking our fingers and taping the roof to the jiving tones of Mozart bellowing from the tape player. You see, Terry boy is, apart from being the owner of the most baroque hairstyle in the western world, a music student.

But what of the future? The Higsons do strike me as being a trifle nave and unaware of the, not so much pitfalls as gaping crevasses, that ascending beat combos have to negotiate in their dealings with da biz.

They expected me, the ‘rock journalist' to be dressed in leather trousers and cowboy boots (!) and were astonished to hear that I exited my sleeping chambers at 6.30am simply to be with them. Assuring the startled gazes that only staff writers spend the day in bed, I enquired into views on the old indie-versus-majors chestnut.

Simon: “Having seen 20th Century Box (a TV show) it would seem that indies can give you whatever you want but we're at the beginning and don't know what people can offer that indies can't. All indie labels are doing is making money out of bands anyway. I'm not knocking indies but they're all part of the same process.

Switch: "We play to get people to listen and the more people who listen the better. The ideal thing is to be on an indie label that gets airplay and has the distribution you want.

Simon: "Linx are very commercial but they're in control of everything. That's the ideal for every band. We're not going to sign a deal that says we've got to churn out endless 'Monkeys'.

“We found ourselves number one in a recent futurist chart from a club we didn't know existed, the Cariba Club in Conduit Street (in London). Some of our mates went down there, said they were us and tried to get in for nothing but they were thrown out. Mind you, there were 25 of them."

By now every fast drop of vino has been greedily devoured. just prior to a three hour debate on 'Oi' (fortunately I'd run out of tape). Simon, in a severe state of swaying intoxication, slurs into the microphone:

"I'd just like to say Terry is replaceable. His haircut diminishes his responsibilities and as for Switch's trousers...