A Brief History of Scottish Music: 1978 - 2008

A Brief History of Scottish Music: 1978 - 2008
feature for the skinny student guide

(aimed at young'uns moving to this country to study)

In Scotland we like to boast about how brilliant we are at just about everything. We invented pretty much the whole modern world, including television, the telephone, antibiotics, the steam engine, and probably sliced bread and dogs and football and sex and the wheel and all that stuff too. So it’ll come as no surprise to anyone who’s been listening that we’ve also got a fandabidozy (that’s a word invented by an old Scottish woman dressed as a young boy to mean “excellent”) history when it comes to modern music: we just about invented that too. And we’re not even going to mention people like David Byrne, Talking Heads frontman, who was born in Dumbarton; or Bon Scott and the Young brothers, of AC/DC, who were all born here; or Donovan, who was born in Glasgow; or Bert Jansch or John Martyn, or Mike Scott or Alex Harvey. We certainly won’t be mentioning the Bay City Rollers either, for different and obvious reasons. We don’t have to. Instead The Skinny Student Handbook presents a brief look back at the last 30 years of Scottish alternative music, from the 70s heyday of punk, to the beginning of last week.

Scotland has never been as culturally mixed as cities down south or in the States; you don’t get much in the way of good hip-hop or dub coming from these shores. We do a few things well, but we do them very well. Punk’s mid-70s explosion changed the game for anyone wielding a guitar, and Scottish bands were quick to adjust. Glaswegian label Postcard crammed a frankly silly amount of great music into their short lifespan, but it was in the 80s when Scotland’s first truly great bands arrived. The Jesus & Mary Chain and the Cocteau Twins made an impact with alternative music lovers worldwide, and Primal Scream’s seminal 1991 acid house voyage Screamadelica is rightly considered a timeless classic. They’ve had their ups-and-downs since, but that’s allowed other great bands to come to the fore. Belle and Sebastian annoy twee-haters, but their fans know they offer far more depth than that casual dismissal accounts for. They’ve since been voted Scotland’s greatest ever group, and who are we to argue? Well, another contender would certainly be Mogwai, who emerged thanks to another great Glaswegian label, Chemikal Underground, in the mid-90s. As we arrived in this millenium, Franz Ferdinand became global pop stars, and it remains to be seen whether Glasvegas have the momentum behind them to do similarly.

Any skinflints skimming the timeline will see that several key Scottish bands burned out or faded away very quickly, meaning their recorded legacy is sweet but very short. All three Postcard bands listed here are covered well by one-disc compilations, as are The Skids, Lowlife, the Vaselines, the Rezillos, and arguably the Beta Band. So take our advice and give them a shot if you don’t know them already. Elsewhere, the Cocteaus, Belle and Seb, and Mogwai will require a lot more of your time and money, but they’ll pay dividends.*

Obviously, because we Scots invented this music shit, there’s a lot more out there beyond this handful of picks. I hadn’t even written this yet and my flatmates were complaining: what about Aztec Camera? What about Long Fin Killie? What about Doing The Dishes? (yeah OK, that was about something else). Well, that’s where The Skinny will help you out. We’re always on the lookout for new talent, and reminding our readers about all the great music that’s already out there in this fair nation. We try to be modest, but we’re actually quite brilliant at it.

LATE 70s
The Rezillos
Campy glam-rockers who were swept up with all the excitement of punk. Like the Ramones, yet both smarter and sillier, Can’t Stand The Rezillos was their one and only album.

The Skids
New wave band from Dunfermline which featured Stuart Adamson. More from him later: in the meantime check out Sweet Suburbia, which includes the classic singles Into the Valley and The Saints Are Coming.

POSTCARD
Josef K
Kings of Edinburgh post-punk, with jerky angled rhythms and guitars splashing all over the place like splaying hi-hats. Check out the Paul Morley-compiled Entomology for an overview.

Orange Juice
Edwyn Collins’ genius post-punk group from Glasgow, who got a Top 10 hit with Rip It Up (And Start Again), and were one of the formative groups of all indie-pop. The Glasgow School’s a good starting point.

The Fire Engines
Really undervalued wiry post-punk band from Edinburgh. Another recent compilation Hungry Beat goes over the main points of a band that barely even attracted a cult following, but should’ve done.

EAST KILBRIDE(!)
The Jesus & Mary Chain
Famed for hiding sugar pop melodies under overdriven, feedback-drenched guitars, the Mary Chain’s greatest album Psychocandy was an important forerunner to shoegaze and grunge. Bobby Gillespie was the original drummer, before he went on to found…

Primal Scream
From the Andrew Weatherall-produced acid house classic Screamadelica, to the dub-inflected Vanishing Point, to the naked aggression of XTRMNTR, Primal Scream have looked dapper in lots of different outfits. They don’t always hit the mark, but those three albums alone make them one of Scotland’s greatest ever bands.

DREAM POP
Cocteau Twins
The Cocteaus are to dream pop what Nirvana are to grunge. From Grangemouth, near Edinburgh, check out Treasure and Heaven Or Las Vegas for Liz Fraser’s melismatic mewl and the celestial guitar swathes that surround it.

Lowlife
Cocteaus-offshoot formed by former Twins bassist Will Heggie. Would it be silly to call dream pop that’s a little darker “nightmare pop”? A recent compilation, Eternity Road, is a great summation.

SONGS IN THE KEY OF FIFE
The Beta Band
Fife’s never really recovered from the effortlessly surreal genius of the Beta Band. Their earliest work, compiled on The Three EPs, is marvellously batty and seductively tuneful.

The Fence Collective
Collective of contemporary folk musicians based in Fife, featuring an amorphous cast of ex-Beta Band members, King Creosote, Lone Pigeon, James Yorkston, and just about any decent singer-songwriter in the land.

INDIE-POP
The Vaselines
Kurt Cobain’s favourite band should be one of yours too. Downright silly and completely loveable indie-pop, covered perfectly on The Way of the Vaselines compilation. Reformed this year, so keep an eye out for any gigs.

Teenage Fanclub
The so-called Fabulous Fannies sound a bit like the Byrds, and a bit like the Beach Boys, but they come fae Belshill. With eight solid albums so far, Bandwagonesque or Grand Prix are probably the highlights.

Belle and Sebastian
Belle & Seb shocked everyone when they won a Best Newcomer at the BRIT Awards: it was the first decent band the BRITs had ever seen. If You’re Feeling Sinister, and the EPs collection Push Barman to Open Old Wounds, are both essential.

CHEMIKAL UNDERGROUND
Mogwai
The ultimate post-rock band. Not bothering with normal pop music structures, they start quiet and get very loud and then quieten down again. OK, so there’s more to it than that, but it’s beautifully done.

The Delgados
The Chemikal Underground founders also knew how to make a right racket, but they wrapped more-or-less conventional indie-pop structures around the bluster. Check out Emma Pollock and Alun Woodward’s contrasting vocals on The Great Eastern, or Hate.

Arab Strap
Frontman Aidan Moffat is a thoroughly modern poet with an old-fashioned romantic heart. Assisted by Malcolm Middleton before their split in 2006, Arab Strap are often casually called miserablists, but can also be hilarious and uplifting.

ARE WE TAKING THE PISS?
The Proclaimers
According to the Da Da Da Da (Scotland) Act 1999, citizens of this country are required to have the lyrics of 500 Miles tatooed on their inner eyelids so that we may never miss an opportunity to triumphantly bellow it into the night.

Big Country
Remember Stuart Adamson? His new band became a huge, international success, with rock heavily influenced by traditional Scottish sounds like bagpipes and fiddles. Great band, actually.

Runrig
We’re joking now, right?


WERE THEY TAKING THE PISS?
The KLF
Famously burned a million pounds in cash as a publicity stunt. Yeah yeah, but also – wrote a book, The Manual, about how to have a No.1 hit single and then had one (Doctorin’ the Tardis as The Timelords), dumped a dead sheep at the BRIT Awards, and pioneered ambient house. We’d love to say all that other stuff shouldn’t overshadow the music, but all that other stuff was brilliant.

APHEX WHO?
Boards of Canada
One of the most beloved ambient electronica groups in the world. Music Has The Right To Children and Geogaddi, in particular, are stunningly gorgeous examples of what can be done with a little creative maneouvring of field recordings.

THE SPIRIT OF POSTCARD RETURNS, GETS POPULAR
Franz Ferdinand
Franz presented a challenge to high-minded rock fans to appreciate derivative pop-rock that was unashamedly aimed at the hips. Also, they presented a challenge to history teachers when they became better known than that Archduke fella who fought in the war or somesuch.

THE NEW BREED
The Twilight Sad
2007’s fiery debut album Fourteen Autumns, Fifteen Winters was The Skinny’s Album of the Year. The follow-up album is due out very soon and we can hardly wait.

Frightened Rabbit
Labelmates of the Twilight Sad on Fat Cat, 2007’s Sing The Greys was a solid if largely unremarked upon indie-rock record, but this year’s Midnight Organ Fight blew it away. One of the albums of the year, and definitely one of Scotland’s best new bands.

Glasvegas
The biggest new band in Scotland. The Skinny’s been on their tail since last year, but the debut album just came out this month. Remember those Mary Chain guitars? Just add epic emotional tales in strong local accents, and you’ve got anthems to fill Sauchiehall Street for the next three thousand weekends.

Connect 2008

festival coverage for the skinny

(photos to come)

The entire Skinny coverage is on the link above. Here's just what I did...

The Connect Festival – this year renamed Hydro Connect thanks to a sponsorship hook-up with Scottish Hydro Electric – has got everything going for it, in theory. The location – and the journey to get there – is absolutely gorgeous, being on the banks of Loch Fyne and in the grounds of Inveraray Castle, with steep hills rising behind both main stages. It’s small enough to get to know quickly, and so that traipsing from one end to the other should take no more than five minutes. And the ethos of quality food, and of supporting the environment, is something that everybody can get behind.

Unfortunately, in the two years it’s run so far, it’s been hampered by poor weather and the quagmire conditions that follow. At least this year the rain mostly held off until overnight Saturday, but waking up on Sunday with a hangover, wet clothes and a manky tent, and deep valleys and ponds of sticky mud outside, inevitably prompts the question: I paid how much for this?

But that’s all part of the British festival experience: it’s an endurance test which challenges you to overcome adverse conditions and enjoy yourself anyway because there’s no other choice. For The Skinny, the days after a festival are almost as enjoyable as the festival itself: firstly, getting home to a bath, a clean loo, and a warm, comfy bed; secondly, listening to music again with a fresh energy after seeing so many great performances over the preceding days. We certainly saw plenty of those at Hydro Connect 2008; now all they need to do is fix the weather...

SATURDAY

A painfully thin crowd greets Broken Records on the second stage, first thing Saturday. Is everyone still in their sleeping bags? It’s their loss, because among the sparse attendance couples and groups get dancing, and one song sparks enthusiastic cossack yells: "Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!" It’s another superb set from the rising Edinburgh septet, who make it mighty tempting to miss Bloc Party to see them again this evening on the much smaller Your Sound tent.

Glasgow-based trio Zoey Van Goey are so sweet, it’s almost impossible to be cynical. Birthday girl Kim Moore’s mellifluous vocals are what do it, but there’s no denying the careful craft of these songs too, disguised by gently weird beats. The versatile threesome swap instrumental duties a few times, drummer Matt gets distracted by “the giant frigging castle” behind the crowd, and we all help out with a freestyle handclapping solo at the end. Let’s leave the solos to the musicians next time, eh.

Just in time for the release of their self-titled debut album, Glasvegas go about winning over thousands of doubting Thomases in a crowd obviously more sceptical than the hysterical hoardes at T in the Park. Glasvegas sound brilliant, their feedback reverberating heavier than ever before, and it’s an unusually energetic show too – not from James Allan of course, who remains unmoved throughout – but from the guitarists, who wildly throw themselves across the stage as they squeeze everything they can from their instruments. Glasvegas aren’t just learning how to physically fill a big stage, but also how to use its amps and speaker stacks too.

Andrew Weatherall can do so much better than this, which boils down to the surgical extraction and implantation of a kick drum every 8 bars. And again – on the mark – on the thirty-two – there it is – there it goes – and again – and away – and again… is this some kind of experiment? But I don’t expect most here to notice, being in their own wee internal worlds.

Unfortunately the sound where we’re standing in the Unknown Pleasures tent is terrible: Black Thought could be reading out the Yellow Pages for all we can hear him. It’s like listening to your neighbour play The Roots through a brick wall. Somewhere along the line there’s an extended You Got Me jam with a crazy, virtuosic climax from the guitarist and ?uestlove on drums; which makes it all the more disappointing that we’re unable to hear it properly. Apparently it sounded great at the front.

Bloc Party probably have the sales but not the back catalogue to headline an event like this. The mid-set one-two punch of So Here We Are and Like Eating Glass is near jaw-dropping, but at other times it’s less easy to remember why this band attracts such a following: specifically, Two More Years and the climactic Blue Light, which works far better in its album track context than as a live finale.

SUNDAY

It’s like Scott and Grant Hutchison are playing to a nursery school in the Speakeasy Cafe, with Frightened Rabbit fans sitting cross-legged just inches away from them. The wee marquee is packed and all the lucky kids here see a special show, with Scott on great chatty form in-between a handful of stripped-back picks from Sing The Greys and brilliant latest album Midnight Organ Fight. Despite all the bells and whistles on the bigger stages, two men, two drums and a borrowed guitar provide one of the weekend’s biggest highlights.

When you need to take your mind off the brown puddles slurping around inside your wellies, Camera Obscura know how to help. A couple of breezy new songs set the scene for the very appropriate Let’s Get Out of this Country and Lloyd, I’m Read To Be Heartbroken, a duo which gets everyone singing and swinging and pogoing gently. Squelch squelch squelch. Utterly charming, but I'm not sure about that new squelch section.

On first appearances We Were Promised Jetpacks seem like earnest lads with a keen sense of rhythm, which mostly comprises a uniform kick drum with incessant motorik hi hits. Thankfully they make no attempt at funk whatsoever, which is a good thing because punk-funk is easy to learn but difficult to master, especially for young bucks. If WWPJ ever did try to sell you hair mousse, at least they’d do it with sincerity.

Accompanied by a Meatloaf-alike friend on voice box duty, Kraftwerk man Karl Bartos’ apathetic approach to mixing actually serves him well, because it allows he and his wingman more freedom to play with the pace. They never go for the easy option of a straight Kraftwerk song: only hints and flurries of recognisable hooks, interspersed with similarly influenced electro-retro deutsche-dance beats, is enough to keep everyone on their dancing toes.

Five new songs are premiered by Franz Ferdinand as they close the festival, several of which feature kazoo-toned synths much like Delia Derbyshire’s Dr Who soundtrack. The first stands out thanks to two unexpected but brilliant left-turns it takes, making it sound like a random sample from an indie-dance mix tape. Franz Ferdinand have always done that kind of thing well: it’s what sets Take Me Out and Do You Wanna up for their shakedowns, though tonight the latter is a little heavy-set. They know how to find a groove, and as Alex Kapranos introduces each band member for solos during closer This Fire, they briefly look more like a funk group than a pop group. Average white band? Somewhat better than average, I’d say.

T in the Park 2008

Sorry for the delay. I've contributed a few blurbs to a big article for The Skinny. The full article is here, excerpts and other comments are below.

Before I've seen a single band, the boss has set us up with an interview with Gareth, lead singer of Los Campesinos! I meet him in the artists backstage area, sitting on a bed while a wholly unrecognisable indie band plays pool beside us. He's good chat, actually, a warm and funny guy who goes on one particularly hilarious rant about Loose Women (the TV show, not the... looseness of women) and Jordan's son, Harvey. Not sure if it's printable, or if we'd ruin their career (he needs a PR person to sit beside him and say "we retract that statement"). Later we go and watch his band perform in the King Tuts Tent. It's a huge tent and the crowd seems pretty small (they've a lot of young fans). I've written about their album before on this blog, I think it has lots of lovely moments and You! Me! Dancing!, the build and release, is absolutely brilliant here. Shame the crowd was so small (numerically, not the... physicality).

I’m sure The Music were never this popular before. Fans are literally bounding into the King Tuts Tent to get close to the new look Robert Harvey, shaven headed and bulkier, very different from the lanky long-haired hippy of 2002. And when they find a groove The Music know how to pump it: The People is especially riotous; everyone’s going apeshit. Carling don’t do comebacks, but Tennent’s obviously do. [ab]

From where I’m standing, the Chemical Brothers seem jaded. There’s crossed arms and frowns to the left of me, dancers to the right, but they’re dancing because they think they should, not because the beats are making them. We’ve seen these visuals before too. Star Guitar and Out of Control are well received, but there’s little connection elsewhere, so I leave to catch The Verve. [ab]

There’ll always be a nostalgic appeal to The Verve for fans of a certain age: but before Bittersweet Symphony, Richard Ashcroft does his best to inflate his own ego while simultaneously belittling the entire crowd. "Does anyone here know what it's like to write a classic?" he says. “You don’t have to rub it in”, we say. [ab]

Richard Ashcroft thinks he is JESUS, by the way.

dEUS the next morning at the NME/Radio 1 Stage. The crowd was shamefully small - less than 50 I'm sure - which kinda infringed the whole event.

Will Young doesn’t need to do much to convince his flock of adoring young fans of the worth of a soppy ballad. But even for a pop star, this populism is stunningly manipulative: a highland jig, a Groundskeeper Willie accent, and a 500 Miles singalong, all to much acclaim for Lovely Will. I leave before he brings out the kilt and bagpipes. [ab]

I thought he actually might be greeted with bottles of piss, but the tent was chock-a-block with young girls screaming for Non-Threatening Will. His attempts at ingratiation were actually quite hilarious, though I don't think he meant them to be.


In the hospitality area, we were being treated to a live performance from some rubbish jam band playing on the back of a lorry. But who's that drummer? It's only former Formula 1 boss Eddie Jordan! This band, Eddie & The Robbers, were incredibly due to headline one of the tents on Sunday night, after Hot Chip asked to not go directly up against Primal Scream, REM, Prodigy and Aphex Twin. So, get a bit of money together and you can headline T In The Park then, is that the deal? Anyway, such little attention was paid to Eddie & The Robbers in the hospitality area (as you can see on the left - only photographers were interested) that their headline slot was swapped, at the last minute, for a mid-afternoon slot, giving the Brian Jonestown Massacre a chance to headline. Apparently they were shit, too.

But...

This feels epochal. It’s not that Glasvegas play better than usual or anything like that: rather, the crowd response, in a Futures Tent packed full 20 minutes before kick-off, is unprecedented. This band only have one full single, yet every word of every song is belted out at full volume by a rapturous audience in thrall to James Allan. Not only does Glasvegas’ greatest ever gig confirm their big time arrival, it also demonstrates the awesome viral power of fan-shot YouTube videos. Now this is the gig to search for. [ab]

Yeah so I wasn't really impressed with Glasvegas, but that's kinda beside the point. The crowd reaction was unbelievable - I was there with Billy Hamilton, and the two of us spent most of the gig gawking at the chaos around us. I met them afterwards too, and they were thoroughly lovely people from what I could tell. But I have gone off them, as a band, since hearing the re-recordings of their early songs which are now on their myspace. They new versions are over-produced, the epic quality of their sound used to feel spacious but now it feels flat, and some A&R bozo has obviously told James Allan to emphasise his Scottish accent. It sounds fake now; may as well be Mel Gibson. What I admired Glasvegas for was that they were both very real (they sung in their real accents, using real local slang and lyrical references), and very unreal (the detached rockstar glam even while playing in tiny venues) . That detachedness allowed them to be earnestly emotional about a cause of grief for loads of young men - absent fathers, a topic which is very much under-represented in pop music - without coming across as whiney or wet. Well, that authenticity is quickly evaporating since they've signed to a major label. They still don't sound whiney or wet, but now they sound whipped. They have the Major Label Sound and it's ruining them IMO.

Sunday, and Yeasayer (above) are fucking brilliant. That's all I can say, really. I interviewed the bass player a few months ago, wrote up a feature on them, and have still never heard the album. Wasn't expecting much, but the whole 25-minute set was such a thrill, I've completely forgotten it. But everyone agreed.


That's more than can be said for Battles (above), who split opinion between me (reasoned, calm critic) and everyone else (irrational, emotional fanboys). I used to respond to Battles chat with a reasoned, calm "wank wank wank" analysis, but now I see better. While still obviously very influenced by The Wank - very Wank-esque you might say - "wank, wank, wank" is a little harsh. Battles' technical prowess is obvious, as exemplified by their frankly awesome drummer. But too often that’s used as free reign to fanny about, to randomly slap at the keyboard or squeal an off-key guitar chord in the name of the avant-garde. If only all of their forcefully rhythmic attacks crystallised into palpable songs as well as on the bonkers Atlas, they’d be the greatest band in the world.[ab]

The T-Break tent is half-full, but every soul here is crooning “I’ll get my hole!” like it’s divine truth – even the girls are singing it - and when the chorus kicks in it’s utterly triumphant. Everyone rouses from the spell, rubs their eyes in the sunlight, and wishes they were back under. Tonight Matthew, Frightened Rabbit (below) are simply magic.[ab]


Logistical problems notwithstanding, Amy Winehouse would really suit a late slot in a big tent more than a daytime slot on the Main Stage. At times seeming bored, scared shitless by the crowd, or distracted, Amy’s untuneful warbles do her no justice today. But then, I’m nine miles from the stage, and those closer in are more interested in whether she’ll live to the end of her set than in her singing. She does. [ab]

Justice are a bit flat (or maybe I'm just knackered). But then Holy Fuck are a revelation - even to my tired soul and weary legs. I danced like a lunatic - not drunk/drugged - must've looked like a fanny. Again, like Yeasayer, I was so busy enjoying it I can't remember it much. Only that I loved it, and that it was much better than Battles. Then we got interviewed for the telly, or something, someone shoved a camera in front of us and started asking us about "Tennents' unique qualities". It's the only beer at the festival, that's why I'm drinking it. That's not the unique quality they were looking for.

When he’s not doing Firestarter or Breathe, which both go down fucking mentally, The Prodigy's Keith Flint just parades about, gurning like a lunatic. That’s it. It’s Maxim who’s the star of this show, a show which is flat for spells but rescued by the madness that accompanies the hits. Who wouldn’t freak out to Poison or Out of Space? Psychopathy has never been so appealing. [ab]


(ps. I promise never to write "x has never been so appealing" again)

T in the Park: Glasvegas have arrived

blog for the skinny


Every festival has at least one - a band that blows up just before the weekend arrives so that their stage draw is underestimated - and T in the Park 2008's was Glasvegas. We arrived at the mid-sized Futures Tent for their early evening Saturday show a full 20 minutes before it was due to start, and the stewards were already closing it off; we just managed to sneak in, while desperate others were charging and climbing fences. The atmosphere was just incredible, with thousands of fans heartily singing along to every word of every song - even though this is a band whose discography stretches to just one full single release. They started with Flowers and Football Tops, remaining impressively calm despite the bedlam going on before them - arms flailing, girls on shoulders, hugging, waving, cheering, screaming - so at times it was difficult to even make out the music. Meanwhile, hundreds were standing outside, crushing against barriers and stewards, desperate to hear or catch sight of their new heroes. It doesn't take much to get T revellers to chant "Here we fucking go!" but Go Square Go got thousands belting it out with gusto. Of course, the closer was Daddy's Gone, which already has the feel of a classic festival anthem that will be sung here for years to come; but never will it go down as well as here, tonight. This was a real landmark performance in the career of Scotland's favourite new band.

The Skinny caught up with drummer Caroline and guitarist Rab after the gig. "The best gig and the best crowd that we've ever played to", Rab beamed, still clearly overwhelmed by the experience. "I expected it to be busy but not quite like that. Our tour manager came on-stage halfway through and said to ask the crowd to calm down. People couldn't get in and then they rammed through the barriers, so they were gonna pull the gig". Caroline said "We've gone around the country and had the most amazing response everywhere we've went, and we're so thankful for that. But you cannae beat that. It was absolutely amazing". Rab also confessed that the band had decided not to headline the stage: "We said no because it's quite early still, we've only brought out one single -although we've done the limited editions - and our album's not out until September. As a band we all said it's too soon"

Rab and Caroline also spoke about the Christmas album the band hope to release at the end of this year. "It's definitely happening" Rab said, "It's all written. He [James Allan, singer] wrote it all in New York when we did the album. It's pretty fucking special to be honest. One of the songs is called Cruel Moon and I think it's the best song he's ever wrote. I get hairs on the back of my neck every time I listen to it. We were gonna put it on the album and I was gutted that we didn't, but I understand it's more suited for the Christmas album. So we're gonna go to Romania, Transylvania, and record it in a big church, live, and maybe get some other people to sing on it. The record company is really excited about it, a second album in a year!

But after that quick burst of creativity, that might be it as far as the Glasvegas story goes. "I don't know if we're going to do a second [studio] album," Rab said. "And the record company knows that. They're genuine and they're really into the music. They won't force us to do anything. So if we say we don't want to do a second, they'd be fine with that".

Glasvegas (Live)

Live review for The Skinny

glasvegas @ cabaret voltaire, edinburgh, 7 dec (****)

In a way, it’s ridiculous that Glasvegas should already be receiving such hype on the basis of just five songs. But on the other hand, the way people of all ages are responding to the handful of tracks made available on MySpace is incredible. It’s like an Oasis crowd, with gangs of men and boys hugging and punching the air and singing along from the depths of their throats. They’ve only recorded half an album, but tonight this Cab Vol crowd knows all the words. Glasvegas’ anthemic choruses are wrapped in a dreamy haze, just as the band are obscured by red smoke, but there’s emotional gravitas here too, particularly in their revelatory first single Daddy’s Gone. It’s no surprise when their sixth and final song of the evening is a cover of the Ronettes’ Be My Baby; it clearly inspires everything they do. If Glasvegas can continue to re-contextualise one of the 20th century’s greatest pop songs for the 21st, there’ll be no stopping them.

Glasvegas

Feature for the Skinny - Glasvegas

Everyone knows the story about Oasis’ breakthrough 14 years ago: they were spotted at King Tuts by Creation Records boss Alan McGee, playing a 20 minute set while third on the bill, and offered a deal on the spot. This summer McGee announced that he had done it again – spotted a brilliant new band third on the King Tuts’ bill, that was “the sound of young Scotland today”. McGee told the Guardian “I hadn’t loved anything that much since the Jesus and Mary Chain demo tape in the 80s”. For a band that had been quietly working away on their sound and building buzz from the ground up, such a grand statement in a national newspaper caused a huge hike in hype and expectation. But frontman and songwriter James Allen has adjusted to it now: “through a little time we’ve became friends [with McGee]. His enthusiasm for the songs I write blows me away at times. I see him as the Malcom McLaren or Tony Wilson of this generation.”

There’s no need to question McGee’s claimed 13-years of sobriety based on this assessment: the Mary Chain’s place in the Scottish music hall of fame isn’t yet under threat, but even before they’ve signed a record deal Glasvegas look a likely candidate for future entry. They’ve borrowed from dozens of sources – a look between The Clash and the Velvet Underground, the shoegaze guitars of early Creation bands and related fuzziness from Suicide, a 50s songwriting style and Phil Spector production values – to mould their own sound unlike anything else being hawked at the moment. Lyrically they have the subtlety to write sensitively about the pain caused by absent fathers, as well as uniquely Glaswegian anthems like “Go Square Go” and “I’m Gonna Get Stabbed”. Even the NME has displayed rare good taste by declaring “Daddy’s Gone” the “…single of the year. No question”.

The release of that debut single on MP3 and limited edition 7” at the beginning of November was the culmination of two years hard work, but things have been accelerating for several months now. They’ve supported Dirty Pretty Things, The Charlatans and Ian Brown, and made more fans in high places. “Ian phoned up out of the blue saying he’d got given a demo” James says. “The guys heart, spirit and soul was an eye opener.” At the time of writing the band remain unsigned, but that surely will not remain the case as you read this. James is already thinking ahead to the debut album: “I’ve got a bunch of new songs ready that the band ain’t even heard yet. My ambition for when we make our first album will be to give as much of myself to it as I can give in the hope of making something sugary and soulful”. This year, the Twilight Sad made an indelible mark with a debut album that caught everyone by surprise. Don’t be caught by surprise in 2008: keep a very close watch on Glasvegas, the west coast’s new, new favourite band.