Glasvegas interview

It would be fair to say that the way music hype works is changing. The turnover of hype bands was astonishingly high not long ago, but all of a sudden the landscape has changed and the people in the know are now putting all of their eggs in one basket.

This year, undoubtedly, the basket belonged to Glasvegas. Late last year their signature track Daddy’s Gone crash-landed into NME’s tracks of the year list at number 2, and since then the Glaswegian four piece haven’t looked back, despite the slight hiccup of missing out on a number one album to Metallica.

Not that the band expected it in the slightest. Guitarist Rab Allen says: “We were delighted with number two. Metallica are one of the biggest bands in the world, we knew we weren’t going to beat them.”

Since the album release Glasvegas have played practically every night to increasing levels of devotion from their followers. Indeed, they’ve hardly been off the road for the last few months. Rab explains: “We’ll be touring for about a year. We’ve had two weeks at home since last November.”

The band have developed an almost gimmick of never being seen in any colour than black, with singer James Allan recently taking to wearing sunglasses relentlessly. But Rab says that there’s a less interesting reason for the lack of colour in the band’s wardrobe, “It’s just easier for when we go on tour, for washing! You open the suitcase and it’s all black.”

It lends itself to a startling spectacle in the band’s live show. White light batters your eyes, with the only thing you can see being four near-static figures on the stage, totally lost in the music. It’s a nigh-on religious experience.

Rab adds: “Grown men are singing the songs back at us crying. The music is quite emotional for some people, especially lyrically.”

Glasvegas live is a incredible experience. Rarely is there a second’s respite from the aural blast, emotion pouring from the band into the crowd and back again. When we see the band, in a tiny room in Manchester, it almost, almost brings a tear to our eye. And we’re very, very tough. We ask if the smaller shows are a better way to see the band live.

“We’ve done some massive gigs that have been incredible. We played Brixton [Academy] and the sound was amazing. Anything indoors is good.”

One of the most note-worthy things about the band is that they don’t shy away from dark themes in their output. The album covers, death, divorce, loss, stabbings and desperation, often in the same song.

“James is very good at putting himself in the shoes of other people”, says Rab. “The events in the songs aren’t necessarily things that have happened to us, but things he’s heard about.”

Glasgow is the rough sibling of cultured Edinburgh, more known for council estates and social deprivation, and it is this background that frames the background for the band’s work.

But despite all the critical praise Glasvegas still, to be cliché-tastic, keep it real. The band likes to stay as down-to-earth as possible, employing the now famous Geraldine [the former social worker from the band’s breakthrough hit, er, Geraldine] on the merchandise stall.

But with the world seemingly at their feet, Rab discloses to us that there may not be another Glasvegas album after their upcoming Christmas album, which the band recorded in a Transylvanian church.

“It [the Christmas album] was something James has always wanted to do. But if we don’t feel the material is better than what we’ve already done, we won’t release it,” states Rab plaintively.

DN is gobsmacked. But with James, the band’s chief songwriter, churning out new songs as regularly as clockwork, and the band’s ambition lying somewhere in the stars, the name of Glasvegas is certain to be a familiar one for years to come.

[This feature was written for Degrees North]

Glasvegas album review

Glasvegas – Glasvegas (Columbia – 8^th Sep) 9/10

Occasionally, believe it or not, the NME gets it right. It might not be often, but for every Bravery, there’s a band as special as Glasvegas championed by the once-great magazine. Call it the law of averages.

And this time they were spectacularly on the money. Glasvegas have unleashed a beast of a debut, destined to slay Best Of album lists across the country come the end of the year. Yes, they sound a bit like The Jesus and Mary Chain crossed with My Bloody Valentine, but harking back twenty years does not change how good this album is.

The heart of their appeal is emotion. Critics lambast their simple style, but their often basic drum lines and guitar riffs are not at all the point. The thing that makes Glasvegas stand out is the way they make you feel.

It’s a rare thing to hear an album that makes your spine tingle almost all the way through it, but the black-clad foursome has managed it with ease. And you sense there’s even more to come.

‘Glasvegas’, self-titled as all debuts should be, begins with ‘Flowers and Football Tops’, daringly extended to seven minutes for this recording, but losing none of its grace and power. It tells the story of murdered Glaswegian teen Kriss Donald and is a worthy brother to ‘Daddy’s Gone’. Which we’ll come to later. The refrain of ‘You Are My Sunshine’, set to the band’s trademark Phil Spector Wall of Sound guitars, is almost too much to bear.

Social worker anthem ‘Geraldine’ follows before the band’s best song, ‘It’s My Own Cheating Heart That Makes Me Cry’. Incredibly personal, singer James Allan lays his heart on his sleeve and performs a vocal of such magnitude it gives even Morrissey a lesson in self-abuse. “I feel so guilty about the things I said to my mum when I was ten years old”, he confesses, almost chillingly.

The band’s decision to decamp to New York with Muse producer Rich Costey had left many fans worried that the band’s lo-fi sound would become punctured by ludicrous solos and stupid glitter jackets. But Costey, aided by Allan, keeps it understated throughout, letting the band’s natural potency shine through without layers of clunky production.

The chorus of “Here we fucking go” on debut single ‘Go Square Go’ relates a childhood playground fight. Violence, divorce, stabbings and murder all punctuate the record. It might not appeal to Middle Englanders in the Cotswolds, but for many in so-called Blade Britain, many of the lyrics will hit hard.

So, to the band’s defining track, ‘Daddy’s Gone’, detailing a messy divorce from the child’s perspective. “Be as fucking insincere as you like” barks Allan venomously, amid for once toned down guitars and a gentle ‘tish’ from stood up drummer Caroline McKay. It’s hard to say anything about the song that hasn’t already been said a million times, but Allan’s repeating of the line “He’s gone” is a real hairs-on-the-back-of-the-neck-standing-up moment, among a sea of similar sentiment.

‘Stabbed’, entirely spoken, over the piano of Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata’ treads the fine line of mawkish and melancholic dangerously, and as a result is probably the weakest track on the album. But still, you have to admire the bravery of the band’s inclusion of it.

The album closes with two gentler tracks, winding down successful after the passion of the previous eight numbers. The change of pace is entirely necessary and brings the record to a natural conclusion.

Most debuts have the odd clunker, but this one is solid gold throughout. I don’t often use the word masterpiece when describing an album but this truly is one. It brims with courage and a fuck you attitude, it fills you with joy and sadness at the same time, it makes you want to punch the air while jerking at the heartstrings. It is simply stunning.

With today’s daily news bulletins about the latest knife crime, Glasvegas’ tales of life on Glasgow’s hardest streets feel even more powerful yet delicate than ever. This album will define the year for sure, and perhaps even the decade. Yep, it’s that good. Honest. For once, believe the hype.

[This review was originally published on The Music Magazine]