Glasvegas, “Glasvegas” (Columbia, released 8/9/2008)
Why must we incessantly proclaim to have found “it”? What need drives us to proclaim the discovery of THE best new band, THE most important act since the creation of time, THE piece of noise which allows us to call off the search and say that this thing called music has finally been cracked? Papers and PR, probably, but the internet has contributed massively as well. I already suspected that the 21st century’s defining characteristic is paranoia, but the restless need to avoid missing THE Next Big Thing might be the clearest evidence yet.
The truth is we now live in a world where The Mars Volta and The Kooks must learn to live together peacefully. There’s no future in ghettos and we must ensure that they learn to speak each other’s languages, able to sit down and break dance together, otherwise the very fabric of society will crumble, we won’t know where we are and we’ll all start thinking that Kid Rock is acceptable.
Glasvegas arrive in a flurry of such proclamation, so let’s say straight off the bat that this album is 60% good, 40% brilliant – which is about as good a ratio as you would hope for from a debut album, especially when you add in how distinctive that good/brilliant sound is. I’m sure you’ve heard about the fifties doo-wop and Phil Spector-esque wall of sound references, but forget gun fetishes and weird hair. Instead think big guitar noise, able atmospheric flourishes and James Allan’s impassioned vocal, with a Scottish accent so thick you could spread it on toast. Everything about this band is widescreen. They scream grandeur but not in an over blown, over produced way, instead their core is real and glorious. At their very best, building towards crescendos in songs like, “It’s My Own Cheating Heart That Makes Me Cry” and “Daddy’s Gone”, they are astonishing, reaching for the sky with an emotion that sits half way between tears and laughter. Occasionally they slip the wrong side of the line, ending up slightly overwrought and melodramatic, “Stabbed”’s spoken word story of gang land violence recited over Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata coming across (quite frankly) as a joke, or maybe just a sign of excessive bravado.
Despite the odd blunder, I am damn keen on this album. They’re not as interesting as Late Of The Pier (but then, who is?) or as soulful as Fleet Foxes (ditto), and Glasvegas may well be a one trick pony. But I find their heart-on-sleeve passion for the striking sound they have created irresistible. They probably don’t care how many copies of this album they sell, as they’re having so much fun making music together that it makes no difference to them. Thankfully, that makes all the difference to me.
Words: Martin Cordiner
Posted In Album Reviews, Sep 13 2008.