‘I’d like a five day break in the country,’ says Pet Shop Boy Neil Tennant towards the end of their 1991 US tour, ‘swimming, a roaring fire for those chilly evenings, intelligent conversation, a little light jogging, a fine French chef and the occasional murder for Angela Lansbury to solve . . .’

The Pet Shop Boys are, of course, the most essential of all English pop bands; quintessentially English, ironic, deadpan. Buzz words, reviewer shorthand in the face of a band so relentlessly individual. When they released the Immaculate Behaviour LP in 1990, critics met the record’s emotionalism with sheer disbelief, lifting the rock to peer beneath for the irony. When they launched their lavish, almost operatic first (and almost certainly last) world tour, the press (much reproduced in here) quested for meaning instead of simply luxuriating in the spectacle.

‘Pet Shop Boys’ Versus America follows Pet Shop Boys, Literally, the day-to-day diary by journalist Chris Heath of the band’s first brief, tentative steps on the world’s stages in 1989. In that sense there’s very little difference; Heath trails the band, access all areas, pursued now by celebrated photographer Pennie Smith, who offers her excellent candid, grainy monochrome shots from performance and beyond. Thus, much of the book is transcribed dialogue, conversations, and, more often than not, tantrums on the part of Tennant’s too-often bored, petulant partner, Chris Lowe.

This is no Hammer of the Gods, on the road tale of rock ‘n’ roll excess, however. The sensations here are in the relative sock lengths of the stage costumes, the marked lack of artificial snow during ‘My October Symphony’, or an appearance on the prominent Tonight Show. Before they arrive, Tennant and Lowe are adamant that, despite having additional musicians and dancers, they be depicted very much as a duo. Needless to say, Pet Shop Boys are revealed to be a singer and his backing band and Lowe storms off set in a rage. The subsequent fall-out is all too illuminating about the process of US chat shows.

Even more so than the first book, Neil Tennant’s humour and grasp of language shine through – he passes Steven Spielberg at a Los Angeles party. ‘I’ve been to the Oscars,’ he’s told. ‘Well, of course you have,’ is the Englishman’s unphased response. And the group’s eccentric collective of admirers are all on tap to pledge allegiance – Liza Minnelli insists on staging her new show solely for Tennant’s approval; Guns‘n’Roses vocalist Axl Rose showers them in gifts; Janet Street-Porter and boyfriend, TV presenter Normski, invite Tennant and a band minder to their Malibu beach house; and they go in search of the homes of the nearby rich and famous – De Niro, Nicholson, Madonna. ‘Of course,’ he says, ‘if we see them, we’ll pretend we don’t recognise them . . .’

Very Pet Shop Boys.