I feel like I need to start out by giving myself a pat on the back for coming into this review with complete and utter neutrality. Before hearing the first notes of the opening song of Glasvegas, the first full album of a band by the same name, I had absolutely no knowledge of their genre, their popularity or their nationality (other than a vague notion that the band was from Nevada).
Their nationality, in fact, is one of the most fascinating aspects of Glasvegas. The band is Scottish, yet vocalist James Allan certainly is not the watered-down British rock singer whose accent dissipates into instrumentals and melody. To the contrary, his verbal articulation is so determinedly Scottish that lyrics are often unintelligible to the American listener. By the album’s second track, “Geraldine,” I had to refer to an online lyric database to make sure the verses actually were in English.
Allen’s accent manages to complement and hinder the band’s work simultaneously. A grown American man yearning for a “kick-a-bout in the park,” as does the singer in the track “Daddy’s Gone,” would sound absurd. Coming from Allen’s boyish pipes, however, the cry is heart-wrenching. Somehow, a British accent seems to make every lyrical faux pas seem excusable.
On the other hand, if the band’s lyrics are in fact moving, those of us on this side of the Atlantic are to remain (at least without the help of information technology) oblivious. To the untrained ear, the opening lines of “Polmont on My Mind” (which apparently repeats the phrase “fate fatal fate”) sound alarmingly like a shout-out to a man named Phil. Of the lyrics on the album that can be distinguished, a noticeable percentage are of the type that likely would be censored from public radio.
Allan’s vocals, though often charming, are unfortunately the band’s most notable idiosyncrasy. Though their sound is far from punk-rock hackneyed, the album, coupled with its dramatic instrumentals and mournful melodies, reminded me immediately of a less experienced, much more Scottish version of Coldplay’s “Viva la Vida” record.
Calling Glasvegas inexperienced, of course, is hardly unfair — this album is their first full work. Like many other bands at this stage, the Glasvegas songwriters have found what they deemed as their own sound, perfected it and reproduced it until they had enough tracks to fill an album. If you’re not careful to note track changes, the album’s 10 songs could easily be mistaken for one nearly 45-minute track.
That may be an exaggeration. That the tracks hold little variety, however, is not. Aside from several melodies that reappear throughout the album, the 10 tracks also seem to be unified by a common theme: sorrow, regret and a depressing childhood. In some tracks, such as Glasvegas’ single “Daddy’s Gone”, the despair conveyed by the singer and his lyrics are quite potent. On the other hand, at other points in the album it seems as though singer Allan is just looking for something to cry about. Hearing the phrase “I’m gonna get stabbed” in the album’s eighth track “Stabbed” chanted atop a background of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” is little short of disturbing.
Basically, if you need to sob for 45 minutes straight without a concrete reason, then Glasvegas’ album is the one for you. If you’re just looking for a good listen, however, “Geraldine,” “Go Square Go” and “Daddy’s Gone” will more than suffice.
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