"I think journalists are wary of slagging off Rough Trade product because, well, you know, it is hip." Stuart Moxham, eldest of the Young Marble Giants at 25 (and the tallest at more than six foot), mixing modesty with cynicism, offers this as an explanation for the sudden rush of media interest in the Cardiff group.

In the space of a few months the Young Marble Giants have gone from being an unknown (outside Cardiff) and unpopular (inside Cardiff) garage band to one that is known and lauded in trendy London circles, all this on the strength of an album called Colossal Youth and a heap of enthusiastic music press and radio airplay which is also spreading their name nationwide.

A trio, the Giants formed in November 1978: Stuart Moxham (guitar, keyboards), his younger brother Philip (bass), and singer Alison Statton, Philip's girlfriend, who's been described as The Future Of Rock 'n Roll by at least one gushing journalist. They had spent 18 months floundering in Cardiff when, in a final fling for recognition, they contributed three tracks to a local compilation album, Is The War Over?

Rough Trade, who were sent the album for distribution, were immediately impressed by the Giants' tracks and offered a recording deal. "It was like a fairytale," says Stuart. In an unusual and possibly unprecedented move, they recorded and released an album, Colossal Youth, before they had played a gig or cut a single. An EP, "Final Day," followed soon after.

The Giants' music is starkly individual. Guitar, bass, and drum tapes, with occasional keyboards, are deployed to create sounds -- melodic noises rather than melodies as such -- that coexist rather than interrelate.

On top of this floats Alison Statton's crying though strangely emotionless voice, itself an instrument and a vital component of the group's clear and uncluttered sound.

Their intention was to make their music sound like a radio playing quietly late at night, in between channels, so that the songs were indistinct and all that could be heard were stray sounds and noises. "It didn't quite work out like that though, it's certainly not indistinct," says Stuart, revealing the band's seemingly ongoing confusion as to what exactly they are doing.

Stuart outlines a few basic ideas: "Philip is playing one riff and I'm playing one riff, which we think are very good so we want people to hear them, to be able to pick them out and listen to them if they want to, rather than having mass violins and choruses and things obscuring everything.

"And we like to incorporate unusual chord arrangements, changing key a lot, things like that. And we like to stop and start abruptly, although that's partly to do with the drum tape, which is rather tatty and just has to be chopped off at the end of numbers."

Live, however, the Giants are a different proposition. There's no life there, as Stuart readily admits. "Everyone's said that and we know it. We're all quite, er, introverted (though he isn't in interviews) and, er, actually shit scared on stage. But I mean, what can we do? You can't even dance to our music."

So the Giants just, er, stand there, two very tall, lanky, crewcutted guitarists looking like scarecrows in Oxfam clothing, and one small, plain, and pony-tailed girl, all of them looking very, er, bored.

Stuart feels that they have to go out and play. "If I wasn't in this group and I bought our LP and liked it, I'd want to see us. Someone said they wouldn't see us more than once, which is fair enough, but there are plenty of people in the world."

On a more pessimistic note he says the Giants may not be around in three months time. He's obsessed with the idea that they are just a passing trend, but three months time may just prove him wrong.