Kanal, 38, have retained their gift for shining skank onto even the straight-est rock beats, as well as for razzing one another.

“Hey, Adrian, how much did you pay Spike to make your drums so loud?” asks Kanal, looking up from the sofa in the dimly lit studio.

“I didn’t pay him anything,” says Young, his head clean shaven except for a long mohawk that’s slicked straight back and dyed bright red. “I just gave him a pee-pee rub.”

“That reminds me,” says the tall, faux-hawked Dumont, “I gotta stop at an ATM later.”

The conversation devolves into Kanal threatening to roofie his drummer before Stefani speaks up. “This is so weird,” she says, beaming. “I can’t believe we’re all here doing this again.”

BUT JUST WHAT exactly are No Doubt doing? The band never broke up, which means this isn’t quite a reunion. And they don’t have new music to sell, so the trek––kicking off May 2 in Atlantic City, New Jersey, with a stop the next day headlining the Bamboozle Festival––isn’t part of the usual album-tour cycle. Instead, No Doubt’s resurfacing is best understood as a kind of referendum on the band’s musical and cultural relevance—a road test, if you will.

“I have no idea what we mean to people anymore,” says Stefani, her legs pulled up beside her on a large L-shaped couch in the studio’s lounge. “I was on tour by myself not that long ago and selling out all over the world. But now,” she shrugs, “do people even go out anymore? The world’s gone crazy.”

The fast-approaching tour has Stefani feeling certain about two things: “We’ll have a blast and get some great ideas for an album.” Well, maybe

not certain. “Writing songs is a torturous process. I never know how I do it. The fear is always there that I won’t be able to do it again. So, yeah, if the tour doesn’t sell and we don’t come up with anything, maybe this will be the end of No Doubt. But I highly doubt it.”

To encourage writing, Kanal’s tour bus will be equipped with a mobile recording studio. “We’ve never written on tour before,” says Stefani. “I just need to figure out at what point I’ll be able to get some sleep.”

In person, it takes a moment to adjust to the glamorous luster of Stefani’s candy-apple-red lips and near-geisha complexion. Her famously flat belly is hidden under her shirt. “I’m nowhere near in shape for the tour yet,” she frets, then laughs her short, sharp laugh. “I’m only just now starting to fit into my old clothes!”

Her constantly smiling and wide-eyed son Zuma was born last August. He’s with his nanny down the hall. His older brother, Kingston, 3, is at home with Dad, British rocker Gavin Rossdale. Mom has released two platinum albums, 2004’s Love. Angel. Music. Baby. and 2006’s The Sweet Escape, since No Doubt were last a functioning unit. “Before, when I was with the guys, I didn’t even have any kids,” says Stefani, an almond-size diamond sparkling on her wedding ring. “That’s, like, whoa—a huge deal. The dynamic of the band is different. It has to be.” She notes, ruefully, that for the first time since they formed 23 years ago, the foursome will be traveling in separate buses.

“When you’ve still got the endorphins going from the show, it’s so much fun to all be on the same bus, hanging out and drinking champagne. There’s no way that can happen anymore. I’ve got two babies, and their nanny, and an assistant, and my security, and a hairdresser. It’s not as much of a party, but that’s what I need in order to perform every night.”

ROCK S TEAD Y ABS
Clockwise from top left:
Performing at T in the Park,
Scotland, July 2002; testing for
echo, 1996; Gwen, pretty in
pink, 1989; Mr. and Mrs.
Rossdale, 1996; Stefani and
Kanal at the Oakland
Coliseum, November 2001

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56 MAY 2009 / BecoMe Better looking, visit sPin.coM