I saw this guy supporting Lucinda Williams at The Barrowlands in Glasgow last year.
I thought he sucked.
Acoustic Guitar, no band, huge venue, privileged son of Richard and Linda Thomson.
No chance mate.
Then he brought out this.
A middlebrow, tuneful box of magic. It’s fun, it’s bleak at points (but only if you consider suicide bleak). It rock and rolls, but it’s pop.
Get off ya ass and buy it.
It’s hard to write about phenomena that are gestating in your back yard.
Glasvegas are Scotland’s latest phenomenon and with with some merit.
My mate Iain, who should have no real connection with this band (he said ageistly), has been quietly raving about them for a year or so.
He was right.
Much has been written about the Spectorish ‘wall of sound’ they create and the similarity to Jesus and Mary Chain. Well, for a start I can reveal that they are as far removed from Phil Spector as I am.
What is intriguing about the production of this record though is the sheer intensity of it – that’s the ‘wall of sound’ I think reviewers are referring to.
But it’s not the volume or the depth of the music that creates that, so-called, wall, it’s the relentlessness of it (for instance there are actually no start and stops between tracks – it’s just a fuzz.)
This is a big and important aspect of this record because it makes it epic.
The vernacular in the vocals are well catalogued but this is one of those rare records (I suppose like White Stripes and Foo Fighters) where actually the drumming is the essence. And the wall.
It is tribal, incessant, preternatural. It is what drives the record forward.
Plenty folk have had their say.
I approve. It is, for me, a much more interesting breakthrough than the flim flam of Franz Ferdinand which has most certainly not stood the test of time.