Brand New, Glasgow Barrowlands

The crowd at tonight’s gig are surprisingly composed - mature, even. Some cradle pints and chat quietly to their neighbours; others make up groups of rowdier, but ultimately inoffensive, fans. Where are all the awkward emo boys with piercings to be regretted in a year’s time? Where are the the giggling, tipsy 14 year-olds? Come to think of it, where are all the 14 year-olds?

Brand New are a band that have matured steadily since their first pure pop-punk album in 2001, and it’s clear that their fanbase have grown older with them: Glasgow’s Barrowland Ballroom is occupied mostly by 18-22 year-olds. As the lights go down, the real question lies in which era of Brand New we’ll get tonight: the shy, girl-slating band of yore, or the ambitious, storytelling rock band of today?

The band burst straight into ‘The Shower Scene’: the angsty, thrashing revenge song that opened their debut album ‘Your Favourite Weapon’. Within seconds the tone for the evening is set, with frontman Jesse Lacey seething every word with all the passion he can muster.

As the set continues, we see a band confident in their songs and abilities. Hit ‘The Quiet Things That No-one Ever Knows’ fills the venue with its instant riff and call-and-answer chorus, while Lacey’s vocals transition brilliantly from barely-there murmur to yearning shout in ‘Jaws Theme Swimming’. Curiously, it’s the songs from the band’s most recent - and arguably least instant - album that stand out the most. ‘You Won’t Know’ builds tension slowly until an eventual screech of feedback, a sudden change in tempo and a huge, screaming chorus. In contrast, ‘Jesus Christ’ is unrushed, gentle and lyrically beautiful.

The band are focused from start to finish. Lacey alternates between singing, eyes closed, and staring at his guitar - while his bandmates seem just as occupied. Maybe their concentration is to blame for the lack of audience ineraction: there’s a ‘thanks!’ here and there, but there’s a distinct lack of the playful banter we’ve come to expect from most bands nowadays. Not that this audience seem to mind: as Lacey whispers the lovelorn lyrics of ‘The No Seatbelt Song’ halfway through the set, he’s met with a quiet sort of reverence only found between those who respect each other. Understandable, too: this band, and these fans, have known each other for years.