There is cause for excitement in Jönköping. Here in provincial southern Sweden it is one of those rare evenings when there are two live shows scheduled at two different venues. But surprisingly, in a town where the music making is dominated by I’m From Barcelona, that band isn’t one of those playing tonight.

“There will be guys from the band out tonight,” explains Emanuel Lundgren, I’m From Barcelona’s leading light. In fact, it’s almost mathematically impossible for there not to be. With 29 members, it’s a tired-but-true gag that Jönköping’s biggest band is Jönköping’s biggest band, a project, collective or experiment (Lundgren variously refers to it as all three), that is set to unleash indie-pop Armageddon with the release of the group’s debut LP Let Me Introduce My Friends, one year on from their curious formation.

I’m From Barcelona are sunny, choral and discreetly affecting. Theirs is the sound of web designers, nursery school teachers and music store assistants picking up ukuleles, banjos and maracas, and singing songs about treehouses, stamp collecting — and coming from a Spanish city that they’re palpably not from.

The promo for their single, We’re From Barcelona, currently at large on YouTube, sees rows of amiable, ordinary-looking guys and girls grinning straight at the camera and singing the chorus of, “We’ll aim for your hearts, we’ll aim for the stars”, while Lundgren deadpans the verse from behind his moustache and mane of ginger hair. Overlook the numbers and the odd name, and you’re face to face with a group wonderfully devoid of gimmickery.

“The name comes from Fawlty Towers,” Lundgren explains. “Because my (first) name sounds like Manuel, the Spanish waiter, we were joking about his catchphrase, ‘I’m from Barcelona!’ We thought it could be a good name for a band, but these days I feel a lot more like Basil . . . always rushing round trying to do three things at once and completely failing at it.” He laughs to himself then stops. “They show a lot of re-runs here.”

Any pressure Lundgren feels at taking the helm of this oil-tanker of a group is, he admits, entirely his fault. After years of being what he describes as a melancholy guy writing melancholy songs a funny thing happened, and he fell in love with a girl called Frida (who now plays maracas in the band). Spurred out of his malaise, an idea quickly crystallised as he found himself writing songs not just for his own benefit, but also for his friends.

“I wanted to involve the people I liked hanging out with, to have my friends as a part of every song. I didn’t care if they were musicians or not. To be honest, I didn’t see it lasting more than four weeks, but we ended up playing a gig at the Bongo Bar,” he recounts, referring to the venue that now doubles as the band’s spiritual home. He works out that it’s been exactly a year since their inaugural performance. “That show was one of the most fun things I’ve done. After every song, there was this roar . . . not from the audience, but from the people behind me. That’s when I knew it would last for more than a few weeks.”

And it has. As evening approaches, all the available band members cram round a table at a restaurant on Jönköping’s lakeside pier. A waitress with a calculator hovers nervously as they celebrate this anniversary with beer, burgers and cries of Skål! (cheers). They talk about the festivals they’ve played, the heroes they’ve met (Yo La Tengo, the Flaming Lips) and their recent live performance on national television.

Many pursue other musical interests, such as Erik Ottosson, the dreadlocked tuba player who is “the youngest by about fifty years” in a local marching band. Rikard Ljung has his own group, but joined I’m From Barcelona as their flautist despite having next to no experience with the instrument. “I know all the notes I need to know, but there are kids from second grade who are better than me,” he admits, before leaning forward to make sure Lundgren is out of earshot. “If we’re playing live and it’s too hard, sometimes I just pretend to play.”

It all adds to a sense of suspended delinquency, like some primary school band reunion 15 years on. This vibe is compounded as it occurs to you how many of Lundgren’s songs are about, or at least refer to, the experience of being a kid — comparing adult heartache to childhood bouts of mumps, measles or chicken pox, or describing a place where we can retreat from the worries of the adult world. “Maybe it’s something to do with nearly being

30,” Lundgren says. “I remember being a kid, and being able to put 100 per cent of your time into your games. I don’t see why you should stop playing games when you get old.” He sips his beer. “This band is like a game for me . . . and I think the playfulness is why people like our music.”

Out in Jönköping one clutch of local bands was playing near the football ground, just outside town; the other was playing the Bongo Bar. Split loyalties were avoided by staggering the shows’ start times to enable music lovers to get to both venues. It’s a sensible, sociable, Swedish solution.

But now it’s late, and everyone has gathered in the Bongo Bar. It’s hard to keep track of who’s in I’m From Barcelona and who isn’t, as friends, then friends of friends, pile in and are greeted with Skål! and more laughter. Who in their right mind wouldn’t want to be in a band like this? Why didn’t you think of this years ago? Maybe it’s a Jön- köping thing.

“When we all hang out here,” Lundgren explains, surveying the room, “it’s not because we’re in a band. We’re in a band because we all hang out here.” He wanders off to speak to his friends. It sounds cryptic for a second, but then makes perfect sense.

Let Me Introduce My Friends is releasedon September 25.
The band's debut UK performance will be a headline show at on Thursday 14th September at Hoxton Bar & Grill, 2 Hoxton Square. Doors at 7pm, entry is £7 and tickets are available from www.ticketweb.co.uk and they will play a show at the End Of The Road Festival (which is on from 15th-17th September, more information at www.endoftheroadfestival.com.