Tom Meighan is talking about the difficulty for British bands in breaking through in North America. I know this because that's explicitly what I asked him about. If I were going only on what's coming out of his mouth, it would be a little trickier to figure out.

"It's really hard, man," Meighan says. "Unless you're f---ing Coldplay or U2 and wanna f---in' have sex with whatever, like Bono does for world peace or whatever, it's just really so difficult."

At least, I think that's what Meighan says. Complicating matters is that he has quite possibly the world's thickest northern English accent, and that he talks extraordinarily quickly, punctuated by sudden bursts of raucous laughter. To make matters worse, he's on a very shaky cell phone - in the rain - in New York City. At one point, I'm pretty sure that he goes on an extensive search for an umbrella ("where's my brolly?"), but I could be wrong.

Even when he's barely intelligible, however, one thing is clear: The lead singer of Kasabian absolutely loves his job.

In the grand tradition of Oasis, with whom they've toured and to whom they're often billed as heirs apparent, Kasabian arrive on North American shores with limitless quantities of bravado - largely manifested in a willingness to slag other acts. Justin Timberlake, Meighan recently pronounced, is "a midget with whiskers who is just trying to be black." And when the Rolling Stones handed Kasabian a coveted opening spot, they were rewarded by Meighan branding them as "granddads" who "should be drinking cups of tea in their armchairs."

There is a difference, though, between Meighan and curmudgeonly Noel Gallagher - or, for that matter, most other British acts that have ventured across the Atlantic. For most, treks across North America playing to crowds a fraction of the ones back at home are one interminable downer - so frustrating that they head home vowing to stay as far from this continent as possible, if the band members are even talking to each other by that point.

Wandering around New York in the rain, though, Meighan - who insists that his volleys at other bands are only "tongue in cheek" - is a kid in a candy shop. "I find it amazing," he enthuses. "I mean, we're starting again from the beginning. You know, Britain, we're doing brilliant. But over here, it's fresh, and you've still got a lot of f---ing work to do. And I don't give a damn about the f---ing Strokes [note for rock feud connoisseurs: He might have actually said "Stripes"], you know what I mean? We want to come here as a British band and conquer the place, you know, being British."

Being British is perhaps what Kasabian do best. Combining the druggy electro-rock of early '90s Madchester with the flair of equally druggy mid '90s Britrock, they produce a high-testosterone (and extremely druggy) hybrid to warm an anglophile's heart.

This, of course, is not entirely unusual; in one form or another, British bands have made handsome careers playing off their musical forefathers. But what's made this work for Kasabian, who celebrate yesterday's release of sophomore album Empire with a sold-out show at Toronto's Phoenix, is not so much music as attitude.

True, they've shown a knack on both their albums for writing killer singles (Club Foot and L.S.F. on their debut and Empire's title track), and their latest disc shows a welcome diversification of their sound - including a stellar ballad in the form of British Legion. But Kasabian's real secret is that, more than most of their contemporaries, they play the role of unabashed rock stars to perfection.

Case in point is the video for Empire - an insanely high-budget spectacle starring Meighan and his bandmates as soldiers in some sort of Napoleonic battle scene. "No band's making videos like that," he assesses. "It was in Romania. It was about 90 degrees - I was sweating like f---. But we had a great time doing it. It was a long day, but in the end it was a little masterpiece. We all look great as well, man."

Lest you think Kasabian are more confident in their looks than their music, Meighan is only too happy to correct you. "We went into the studio as more of a band than we did before, when we were sitting around looping things in a stony, hazy kinda feel," he says. "For this new record, we kind of woke up from that smoking weed kind of thing, and it's the next stage. We've left the psychedelic haze behind - we're more champagne and Rolls Royces now."

That time, I was pretty sure that's what he said. It's quite possible he's practised that line, and well he should. If Kasabian ever turns earnest, Britrock will be a lot less fun.