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Glasvegas: s/t

11th September 2008 | by Aidan Williamson

For all the comparisons to Jesus & Mary Chain, there's another band which Glasvegas are kindred spirits unto. Both were proclaimed to be the greatest band in decades, both were revered as artists with the capacity to bring about social change and restore order to the universe.

So what if one of them happens to be a fictitious group fronted by Bill S. Preston Esq. and Ted 'Theodore' Logan, the point still remains, our future as a people rests squarely upon the shoulders of these Glaswegians.

Perhaps hype can get out of control then, for at the height of their powers Glasvegas are a capable, endearing and emotionally fragile band, clothing their songs in wrap-around reverb and singing about genuinely relevant topics such as the tragedy of violence, hooliganism and the perpetual classic of paternal-abandonment. We are fairly sure though, that their music cannot get you 6,000 miles to the gallon in your car.

Front-man James Allan has an undeniable edge in the vocalist stakes, his thick Scottish accent envelopes every single word with a aura of charming despondency. It also has the side-effect of rendering 30% of vocals unintelligible to anyone south of the border. Which is a shame, because as we touched on before, the band have reams of interesting things to say, narrating the struggles of modern Scottish life. It will come as a shock to everybody that Glasgow is home to spurts of random violence and gang culture. Glasvegas, however, cannot resurrect the dead, even if it involves cutesy puppies.

There are many throwbacks to the influences of the band, in fact, the entire album seems steeped in a world of time gone by. "Flowers and Football Tops" concludes its run with a reprisal of The Rice Brothers Gang's "You Are My Sunshine". Whereas "Geraldine" pulls a lyrical trick right out of The Kink's play book (the chapter entitled “Lola”) with their last act turnaround. There are also vocal shout-outs to Oasis ("What's the Story Morning Glory") and even the co-opting of children's rhymes as Allan proclaims "Liar liar, pants on fire." All of these paint the album as occupying a universe similar to Life On Mars (the psychological TV drama, not the David Bowie song) wherein the 21st century perspective is pushed backwards through the filter of another time. Despite all of this, Glasvegas are unlikely to be able to reverse global warming.

Marking the start of their misfortunes, Glasvegas seem to have squandered much of their debut album. For every potential classic, there is a song fulfilling the role of the equal and opposite. While "Daddy's Gone" manages to tackle the subject of domestic division with enormous emotional heft, and without stepping into the quagmire of sentimentality; even rivalling Bikini Kill for the most agonised way of repeating the sentiments of "He's gone", on the opposite end of the spectrum "Stabbed" manages to come off like a Channel 5 'disease of the week' movie prologue. Also Glasvegas cannot green-light a third season of Jericho.

Elsewhere, as "Flowers and Football Tops", "Geraldine", "It's My Own Cheating Heart" and "Go Square Go" manage to set the bar to an impressive level, "Polmont On My Mind", "Ice Cream Van" and "Lonesome Swan" manage to go crashing headlong into it. It's an injury which can result in some dizzy spells, uncertainty and an unhealthy amount of confusion. We should also add that Glasvegas cannot overthrow corrupt governments armed with only a swinging cod.

Why this Scottish band should receive so much attention whilst Frightened Rabbit are criminally overlooked may be a question which is never answered. But for all the things Glasvegas cannot do, they do excel at giving us a debut richly doused in promise, instilling a tremendous amount of thought and intelligence into an otherwise vapid genre and soaking it all in a refreshing timelessness. Sadly though, they cannot stop Windows Vista from crashing on you.

Rating:  7 / 10

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