Who A quintet of longtime friends from Leeds, England, who arrive in the U.S. with a pair of U.K. hit singles. Are they cocky enough to think they'll make it here? Better believe it, mate: "Every decade for the last forty years has had a great British rock band that defined their era," says twenty-six-year-old singer Ricky Wilson, who was teaching art at the University of Leeds before the band took off. "In the 2000s, with any luck, the Kaiser Chiefs might be able to do it."

Sound British. Very British. Says bassist Simon Rix, "We liked Blur and Supergrass, and older bands: the Kinks, the Clash, the Specials, Madness, XTC." Their debut, Employment, is drinking-and-dancing rock & roll, a mix of quirky hooks with old-school New Wave keyboards, shout-along choruses and Keith Moon-inspired drum-kit abuse.

New York Flops As recently as 2003, Kaiser Chiefs went by the name Parva and recorded an album that aped the then-ascendant sound of the Strokes and the White Stripes. "But five guys from Leeds singing about the same stuff as the Strokes doesn't work," says Wilson. "I mean, I've never met a New York City cop." The group considers itself fortunate that Parva's label shut down, killing the album before its release.

Secret to their success Post-Parva, the band members were deep in debt and desperate. With nothing to lose, they dubbed themselves the Kaiser Chiefs (after a South African soccer team), dropped their garage pose and began writing music in the styles they grew up on, telling stories about the working-class lives they saw around them in Leeds. Says Wilson, "We wrote these songs from our experiences living where we lived, kissing the girls we kissed, just doing what we do."

Riot Act The Kaisers' calling card is "I Predict a Riot," four minutes of catchy guitar menace, pop smarts and retro organ that cuts through anything on the radio. It was inspired by a particularly rowdy night at a club the band runs. Wilson says the working-class Leeds crowds burn their frustrations out with wild weekends: "You probably ring them up to talk to them about your electricity bill during the week, but at the weekend they just turn into complete monsters -- they're fighting police dogs."

Fab endorsement Sir Paul McCartney has proclaimed the Chiefs "really cool," and the Beatles-worshipping band can't quite believe it. "All these things you wanted all your life," says Wilson, "when they come true, it's dead confusing."