Glasvegas Daddys Gone
From the early releases on Alan Horne's Postcard label through to bands
such as Jesus and Mary Chain and Mogwai, Scotland has always had a
tradition of great independent pop music. The country has never had any
shortage of young bands aspiring to make mythical records without
giving a toss to the style, trends and fashions of London-based
hipsters. Some become extremely successful, like Franz Ferdinard.
Others reach for the mythical only to fall into obscurity, like the
Pastels.
Reflecting on every Scottish band that I've personally been involved in
- the Beta Band, Mogwai, Primal Scream, Teenage Fanclub, Jesus and Mary
Chain - I've found elements of their great music within the grooves of
Glasvegas.
I first spotted Glasvegas in 2006, playing third on the bill at the
King's Tut Wah Wah à la Oasis. They immediately caught my attention.
They were rockabilly neds playing a frenetic homage to Elvis, art punk
and noise. I got their myspace that evening and loved it. In fact I
hadn't loved anything that much since the Jesus and Mary Chain demo
tape in the 80s. Glasvegas' demos owed a heavy debt to both Suicide and
the Jesus Mary Chain; the reverberating drum machine, the wall of
feedback and the vocals from James Allen which alternate between
threatening and fragile, all sung in a heavy Glaswegian accent. The
songs are picture snapshots of the underbelly of Glasgow. I'm Going to
Get Stabbed flails around with a frenetic energy of someone who
literally is about to get stabbed while Daddy's Gone is a maudlin
narrative about a lost relationship with a father. Both are underpinned
by the intense drum machine and the Phil Spector-style bedsit DIY
orchestras.
Instead of following the skinny jeans parade, Glasvegas are pure
rockabilly, noise and doo-wop gold. Looking like they're from the 50s
or else in Morrissey's current backing band, they're throwbacks to an
era where wild excitement and rock'n'roll went hand-in-hand.
I became a big fan. And so have others. Tim Burgess, Carl Barât and
Andy Bell to name a few. Whoever checks out the band live immediately
gets the visceral, visual impact and the songs. They released their
vinyl 7" of Daddy's Gone on Waks Records and it immediately sold out.
They have opened up for Dirty Pretty Things and had sold-out gigs in
Glasgow. Could they give a toss about the NME and major labels? No.
Nowadays, its weird. Bands don't have time to develop. They sign to
their single deals and if the single flops that's that. Down the
toilet. Glasvegas have taken that essential time to work their thing
into something greater. If they had released their earlier single on a
major, it would have been promoted and if it didn't do the business in
the charts would have faded away leaving the band to either break up or
soldier on.
James Allen, the singer, always assured me that he had the skills to
pay the bills and the band have started to deliver on the original
early promise of the demos. Sure, songs like I'm Going to Get Stabbed
and Flowers and Football Shirts paint a Scotland that few are willing
to admit exists, to a soundtrack of Moe Tucker-meets-motorik drumming,
fuzz guitars and rockabilly. But their new track, My Own Cheatin' Heart
shows they have developed into something genius. It's a DIY epic of pop
regret, the sound of Scottish Morrissey singing Del Shannon's songs
with Phil Spector arrangements and Jesus and Mary Chain fuzz meeting
Noel Gallagher's anthem addiction. An utterly unique proposition and
totally soulful. For me, Glasvegas are the sound of young Scotland
today. So who are your Franz Ferdinards and who are your Pastels?