The Kings Of Convenience are Norwegian, they're mates with fellow acoustic-ites Alfie and Badly Drawn Boy and bespectacled Erlend Øye has a unique, and some would say impressive, ability to draw a map of the world in a very short space of time. This much we know. But how did they come to make one of the most engaging and utterly lovely debuts so far this year? How have they made an album, which, whilst drawing from the folky classicism of Nick Drake and Simon And Garfunkel, has managed to sound completely fresh and different, compared to much of the melancholia-by-numbers that appears to be currently around? Out on a mission to ask these quietly sung troubadours these questions and more, we went to chat to the Norwegian duo, and to see if they could illuminate the matter for us.

Gracefully apologising for their lateness (10am did seem a little early, even for a band as seemingly unrock 'n' roll as The Kings), Erlend and fellow King Eirik Glambek Bøe settle down to talk to us at the relaxed offices of record label Source's new London-based office. The first thing that strikes you is how tall Erlend is - at well over 6ft but with an affable demeanour, Erlend resembles a gentle giant. Erlend is clearly the more confident of the two and happy to talk at length about anything asked, whilst Eirik sits down with an expression suggesting he's not at all sure if his presence is needed at all. Much of what Eirik says is barely audible when played back later, yet his shyness never seems awkward; he exudes a quiet confidence and a transfixing sense of calm, and combined with his lovely good looks, is utterly charming. The New Acoustic Movement (NAM), if indeed one exists at all, may have found its first pin-up.

Erlend's map-drawing ability became known to Eirik when the two met at an inter-schools' geography competition in their hometown of Bergen, Norway when they were 11-years old. Erlend won due to the aforementioned map-drawing ability, and the two were not to meet again until they were 16. Following a stint as a four-piece called Skog (it means forest in Norwegian), they ultimately settled on their creative relationship as a duo. Both have spent various periods of time in Britain (Erlend in Manchester where he met Badly Drawn Boy and Alfie), although both are currently settled back in Norway. Erlend talks about the nature of Norway's music scene, and why they felt the need to leave and try and get their music released elsewhere. "In Norway, there's so much Norwegian music that just gets stuck on Norway and never gets out," Erlend explains, "there's just no channel for it." Eirik continues, "You have all the major record labels in Norway and they're just there to make money. The only music they want to make money from is totally mainstream - all the interesting and alternative music doesn't get signed by major labels." He continues, "You have small indie labels in Norway but they're very small - you have the same in England, but you can distribute it to the whole country - in Norway you can't do this, because the labels are so small."

This sense of labels being too small to release records to more than a small bunch of people, or too large so that anything more interesting or outside of the mainstream was lost, led Erlend and Eirik to set their sights on Britain to secure a record label. Both spent some time living in Britain - Erlend in London and Manchester, favouring Manchester as people seemed more willing to try something different musically and weren't so concerned with what was going to be successful. In the end they plumped for a deal with the French label Source, which was just opening a new office in London and looking to find some new acts. The appeal of Source was obvious to both of them, "The idea of signing to a French label with a London office appealed," says Eirik, "being Norwegians looking to release records in England, this seemed right."

Indeed, it is the accepted position with a lot of Norwegian bands that releasing records in England makes them more popular in their own country. Being Norwegian, and not singing in their own language clearly is important to The Kings' music. Much of 'Quiet Is The New Loud' deals with heartbreak and wears its heart on its sleeve, but singing these lyrics in a second language means that to the band, the songs' meanings changes somewhat. Eirik explains, "The lyrics are quite personal but as we're singing in a language that's not our native language, it's different. If I were English, I'd think the lyrics were revealing too much about myself, but as it's not my own language, I don't think I am."

What the band will reveal about themselves, however, is that they share all the songwriting duties and interpret each other's lyrics differently, perhaps, to the way they were intended when written. Whilst Erlend says that his love of English music prompted his extended sojourn to Britain, the duo both say that the only band they unequivocally love is those masters of melancholy The Red House Painters. Certainly both bands' music shares a pervasive air of downtempo sadness. In answer to whether he ever finds The Painters' music depressing, Erland replies, "I never get depressed by depressing music. It just makes me feel good - it's part of everybody - nobody feels happy all the time. It just feels good to be reminded of sadness in such a beautiful way. It's so beautiful and sad - you wonder if you actually want to be depressed when you hear it!"

The King's music certainly isn't depressing - their songs are timeless, stripped-down odes to melancholy and love, and they have their feet rooted firmly in the present whilst certainly containing echoes of classic folky staples - Nick Drake and Simon And Garfunkel. They're both keen to stress that they're not mere folky revivalists, and were flattered when someone compared them to Air at the previous day's Oxford cinema gig (they're just nearing the end of a mini-tour of some of the UK's cinemas). They feel that they both share a "warm and fresh" feel. Eirik says that he feels it unnecessary to try and emulate great music as there's really no need to try and better it, "I find the music I listen to has very little to do with the music I write. When I hear Red House Painters or Bach, I think what's the point or writing more music when it's so great?"

Aware that there's been a considerable favourable word-of-mouth buzz about them over the past couple of months, they say that this is positive, but it's really the first time that this has happened. Mostly they appear to have just been writing in isolation, without ever really knowing where it would take them, "when we started the band, we didn't really get that much feedback," says Erlend, "so we just worked really hard on it. If you're just floating in limbo, you don't really know what the band's about and the only real critic you have is each other."

Luckily, more and more people are beginning to discover just what the band are really about. With their debut for Source released on Monday (29 January) and favourable reviews springing up right, left and centre, it seems highly likely the duo will soon been no strangers to positive reactions form people. One of their concerns, which is a consideration for many quieter bands is playing live in rock venues which are generally not that congenial to more acoustic music. Eirik says that when they go on stage, they often announce that they're a quiet band, which seems to do the trick. They'll be playing one of the NME gigs in a few weeks, coming on first and sharing the stage with Elbow, headliners Doves and Ed Harcourt. "We're on first", says Eirik, "so hopefully people won't be too drunk or too loud then."

And so what have we learnt today, children? Well, The Kings make gorgeous, lovelorn, quietly- sung music with a big, big heart. They're looking forward to playing their music live, and hope that you'll want to listen. So how would they describe themselves then? Eirik neatly surmises, "We're not a '60s folk revivalist band - we're children of our time." We anticipate hearing much more from this lovely band - the kids are alright.

   Suzannah Brown