Glasvegas - Glasvegas

Channeling the spirit of Alan McGee (quite an achievement, for someone still alive and kicking - Ed), we can confirm that Glasvegas are the best band ever, will sell 500 million albums, set up their own independent state and solve world peace, hunger and Setanta sticking all the footie on pay per view. Reasoned, sensible opinions and this Scottish troupe rarely, so it would seem, go and in hand.

Oddly, it seems few people want to pick at the questionable parts of the Glasvegas machine. A wall of sound and a standing drummer can’t help but raise the question of quite how much is being borrowed from the Jesus And Mary Chain, for a start off.

Still, fair’s fair, nobody is original these days, and when they’re on song there’s little to pull apart. ‘Daddy’s Gone’ may feel a tad mawkish, but it still sits fairly well on daytime playlists without provoking a quick change of stations, while ‘Geraldine’ is possibly one of the better songs ever written about a social worker. The problem is that, for anyone not in love with their particular brand of shimmery almost-pop, too much exposure and it feels like a never ending soggy day.

Take ‘Stabbed’, for example. To some a spoken word monologue over music might be deeply moving, inspired and visionary, but in truth it’s simply a tad uncomfortable. Even the reasonably upbeat ‘Here we fucking go’ of ‘Go Square Go’ is about schoolyard violence. Maybe repeating a swear road an infinitum is supposed to say a lot about the real world, but one can’t help but imagine that will be lost on more than a few potential fans.

Don’t get us wrong, there’s a lot of things going right with Glasvegas, especially when peddling their FM friendly singles, but when claims as high and mighty as those banded around of late are in play there’s a lot to live up to. If this is the future, then the future is most certainly gray.