Earlier today I went into Reading to interview Cameron, lead singer and founder of the band Architecture in Helsinki.

Myself and cameraman Chris met Cameron reclined on a knackered old sofa in a dark, dank room upstairs and behind Reading's Fez Club, where they are playing as I type this evening.

He was happily engaged with a bright green and silver laptop, but smiled when we walked in and extended a hand. He came across as a very nice man, and seemed resigned to doing this kind of thing - I dread to think how many local radio journalists have pottered in and out of similar rooms across Australia, Singapore, the UK, France, the UK again and (soon) America in the months, and months, and months that Helsinki have been touring.

The band hail from Australia and it was clear that Cameron wasn't entirely sure whereabouts in the world he was. He'd have been able to get as far as England but Reading's precise location must have remained a mystery, and an understandable one at that. Off mic, at the end of the interview, he politely asked where "Berkshire" was (pronouncing it burk-shire), given it was emblazoned on the microphone. I had to explain that Reading was in Berkshire, and run through the whole burkshire/barkshire thing.

It must be incredibly odd to be over the other side of the world from home, checking your emails in a glorified store cupboard, waiting to play another gig in another faceless town. He's in Kingston-upon-Thames tomorrow, having been in Sheffield last night. His only knowledge of Reading was a bit of shopping in TK Maxx earlier that day. It's not like the band have the time to actually go and explore, or get to know these places.

So it all felt a bit soulless really. The interview happened because I'm standing in on our new music show for a couple of weeks - when I was last writing properly as a music journalist-of-sorts, a couple of years ago, I didn't shed a tear when the BBC job came up and I could give it up. It's one vast manufactured industry, with PR people pulling strings and bored bands giving boring answers to bored journalists. Even sports journalism offers more spontaneity, raw passion and insight.

Cameron was polite, friendly and apparently more than happy to entertain us, but it still felt like tough going simply because it wasn't a natural environment. There was a camera with a bright light pointing at him, my microphone underneath his face, and the somewhat claustrophobic walls of this cupboard leaning in on us. it's tricky to make that feel like a natural conversation, especially with the band's soundcheck thumping through the paper-thin walls and floor.

Still, having seen the band a few months ago, I doubt the cupboard is going to adversely affect Cameron's stage presence tonight. On stage Helsinki are electric, jubilant and vibrant, leaping from instrument to instrument with boyish enthusiasm. I just don't know how you bottle that on camera in a cupboard on a Wednesday afternoon.

I think it speaks volumes that both Chris and I managed to leave our mobile phones in the cupboard by accident. I realised just as we were leaving; Chris only noticed halfway across town and had to run back. We can only surmise that we were both so keen to get out of the cupboard that, when packing the camera into its rucksack, we both lobbed our phones to one side then bolted for the door without a second glance.

You'll be able to listen to an edited version of the interview and make your own mind up on Sunday night from 7pm. There'll be an article on the website as well, I'm sure, although with foot-and-mouth looming (and yes, I've already been asked to create an interactive map of the outbreak), it may be put on the backburner.