The Graduate
1 star

They appear out of the blood-red stage smoke, pallid Glaswegian complexions ghost-like in the mystic aura. There is an air of the psychedelic about the whole setup. And then a wall of sound hits me. I watch arms pump away at low-slung guitars, thrashing out meaty chords. I can’t even see the drummer, Caroline McKay, whom critics have called “that cool girl who stands at bashes at the back”. The ear-bursting noise continues. I wait, and wait some more, for a tune to come through.
The key to pop music is a catchy riff or memorable lyrics: something that fans can sing along too and think “Fuck yeah!” Glasvegas seem to take the notion of ‘artistic license’ a little far, because none of what I heard has stuck in my head, niggling me as I write this piece.

But then maybe James Allan, lead singer and songwriter for the band, feels no need to subscribe to this generally accepted model for successful music. I ask him about the recent BBC Sound of 2008 Poll, in which 150 journalists and music writers made their choices for the most promising talent of the year: Glasvegas came fourth in the top ten. All I get in response is “What’s thaaat then?” Ah. “No, it’s all fine man. I mean, I feel like I’ve already experienced myself man. Five records or a million. It dinnae matter to me, man. I’ve already won.” This ‘winner’ is a blend of 60s doo-wop with the harshness of heavy punk. Allan is certainly keen to express his deep regard of Elvis, as is his cousin, Rab Allan, who plays rhythm guitar. They both have something masquerading as quiffs, and a permanent pout.

At least Glasvegas have a distinctive sound, even if they are not technically proficient; I noticed the drummer struggling once or twice to maintain a steady pulse. Perhaps the most refreshing thing about the band is their attitude to music. Allan considers that his songs embody the Glaswegian spirit, which he describes as “cool and exotic”. He goes on to say that “people want to hide their natural spirit. There is the East-West divide in Glasgow, with some kids thinking that Snoop Dogg is cool, and others on Amélie. I think we’re searching other people’s worlds too much. I wanna search my own world.” But is philosophy enough to ensure hit success? Surely not. Wherever, then, do the critics get such a rosy image from?

“We’re not trying to tell anything new,” Allan confirms. So if there is no particular message, no catchy riff, no transcendental middle eight and no technical prowess, where might they find success? Allan and the band should read the paper more, maybe find out when they have won things. Otherwise, the Job Centre, which Allan calls “not my best friend”, but which has supported his earning capacity hitherto, might have to become a better companion.

Guy Kiddey