Now, the Hard Part

Some are born lucky, others make their own luck. In 1998, with little more to show for five years of hard work than a passel of positive reviews, Welsh band Catatonia did what any self-respecting pop band in search of a hit often does: It wrote a shameless novelty song.

The tune--titled “Mulder and Scully”--is a naggingly catchy pop trifle with a clever reference to those metaphysical crime fighters from “The X-Files,” and it went straight into the Top 10 in England. “We were desperate,” says Catatonia’s lead singer, Cerys Matthews, 30. “We were so used to having nobody listen to us.”

But that’s England, where all sorts of oddities are liable to snag a top spot on the charts--at least for a week or two. Now comes the hard part for Catatonia: staking a claim to a hefty chunk of American market turf. The band, which plays tonight at El Rey Theatre, knows it won’t be easy.

In a U.S. pop landscape that is currently being monopolized by underage sex bombs and producer-operated mannequins, Catatonia’s smart, darkly cynical, yet strangely uplifting pop will have to fight hard to jockey for position on radio playlists and MTV.

“I think [teen pop] is fantastic,” says Matthews. “But I don’t think there’s an age limit on seducing people with your voice. Britney Spears looks great, but let’s not forget about Ray Charles and Frank Sinatra, either. I’m not worried about my age. I’ve got a lot more to sing about now than I did when I was younger.”

Matthews’ coy trill is one of the most compelling and alluring voices in pop; she can sound like Eartha Kitt on a bender or a tigress with her claws well sharpened. “Cerys is grounded and yet she’s a star,” says Atlantic Records general manager Ron Shapiro, whose label signed the band. “She can be girlish and womanish, sweet and sort of naughty. She owns her life and her ideas.”

Nary a Ripple, Then a Wave

With Matthews and guitarist (and former boyfriend) Mark Roberts providing the band with some of the most literate pop songs this side of fellow countrymen Pulp, Catatonia has become one of England’s most celebrated bands.

Founded by Matthews and Roberts, Catatonia struggled for five years to be heard.

Their debut album, “Way Beyond Blue,” created nary a ripple. “We had very little success for many years, and yet we had the conviction that we had something good,” says Matthews.

It wasn’t until 1997’s “International Velvet” album, which contained “Mulder and Scully,” that Catatonia found itself on the front lines of U.K. pop’s new guard. The band’s latest release, “Equally Cursed and Blessed,” is a near-flawless pop record, a shimmeringly complex meditation on love and pleasure that has already nabbed the No. 1 spot on the British charts. “I just think it’s a beautiful record,” Matthews says of the collection, which will be released in the U.S. on March 28. “The last record was a lot more live sounding, but after touring for so long, we were kind of like a very sharp, honed tool in the studio.”

In the U.K., Catatonia’s music is frequently overshadowed by the cult of personality that had grown around Matthews, whose very public drinking escapades and brazenly sexual persona have made her a popular subject for the U.K.’s music and “lad” magazines. “I like the attention,” admits Matthews. “I’m a bit of a showoff.”

Matthews admits to a slight mellowing in recent months. “People have various ways of dealing with things, and that was my way,” says Matthews of her hard-charging lifestyle. As for the prospect of Catatonia breaking through in America, Matthews takes the long view.

“I’ve got absolutely no expectations,” she says. “I did two or three years ago. I wanted to come here and mesmerize everybody, but it’s a big country and you’ve got a lot of good acts now. I just want to enjoy it.”

BE THERE

Catatonia, with P.J. Olsson, tonight at El Rey Theatre, 5515 Wilshire Blvd. 8 p.m. $13.50. (323) 936-4790.