Glasvegas
Glasvegas
Columbia Records
By Miriam Lamey
If you’re all sitting comfortably, I have a story for you. Once upon a time there was a band. Said band played at the infamous King Tut’s Wah Wah Hut in Glasgow and were third on the bill for the evening. A certain Mr. Alan McGee (head of Creation Records for those who don’t know) discovered and signed this band. Now this band is all over the UK, poised to take on America. Nope, if you guessed Oasis, you’re wrong.
This band is Glasvegas and their breathtaking self-titled debut album brims over with some very impressive stuff.
As far as their immediate contemporaries, Glasvegas sonically resemble The Twilight Sad, with a touch of Idlewild’s brash energy and Frightened Rabbit’s thick Glaswegian trills. Yet singer James Allan has his own impassioned bawl that manages to almost bellow during “Flowers and Football Tops,” ache with the potential of tears during “It’s My Own Cheating Heart,” and frighteningly slither over the orchestral darkness through “Stabbed.” Allen, however, does not carry this band himself. It’s the mystifying combination of influences, the obvious seasoned teamwork and purely sparkling composition that indicate Glasvegas have what their peers lack: genius and brutal honesty.
Glasvegas layer distorted drawn-out guitar riffs on many of their tracks in a style akin to that of the Jesus and Mary Chain. But to this, Glasvegas add their own emotion and more than a touch of 1950’s doo-wop and Buddy Holly stylings. While this sounds potentially horrifying, Glasvegas simply, in the words of Tim Gunn, “make it work,” in a mystifying manner. They understand the peaks and swells of each track, taking the sound, mood and lyrics up and away with soaring notes and wildy evocative guitar riffs. “Polmont on My Mind” is one such example; the rapid power chords in the background are distorted and almost rough. Drums pound and support Allan’s sadly epic vocals as they push up and fall back and a lonely tambourine rattles in the distance. The full package comes across as if this sound and these emotions have been lying dormant and “Polmont on My Mind” was their first chance to explode. It’s realistically beautiful. Glasvegas deliver not the ethereal gorgeousness of Explosions in the Sky, rather their music’s beauty is derived from the band’s ability to channel many harsh emotions through their work and have it be real and listenable, sans transparent angst.
Glasvegas’ debut album isn’t precisely cheerful. Some tracks deal with the grittiest material – an absent father, the racially motivated murder of a 15 year old in 2004 – but there are some more upbeat-sounding pieces in the mix. “Go Square Go” might concern a playground fight, but at least has an exciting quick pace.Light drums and bells with faster lyrics and thus the track has a different, easy energy. Similarly, “Daddy’s Gone” introduces the swingier, Fifties vibe via the pacing and mournful harmonies. A thick, growling bassline sets a steady beat and combined with fairly discernable lyrics (sometimes Allan’s accent gets the better of him) this is probably the best track for a new Glasvegas listener.
This album isn’t the most polished on the planet. Nor is it the easiest to hear. Perhaps its harshness made me homesick and I thus related to the sound. Or the tunes were just that little bit edgy and different. However, this is one of 2008’s best albums so far because the first time I heard some of these tracks, I got goosebumps; to call this music “a bit different” is putting it mildly. Mr. McGee has still got “it” after all these years, thank goodness. I suppose I’ll be paying more attention to his blogs from now on.
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