Music

Glasvegas, Old Fruitmarket, Glasgow

Jonathan Geddes

Three stars

Given the time of year, perhaps it's fitting that this gig featured a dash of pantomime villainy by Glasvegas singer James Allan. His refusal to wear a glittery pink cowboy hat lobbed onstage prompted some lusty booing early on, one of the louder moments in a surprisingly tepid first half.

Aside from the hat antics and a robust Flowers & Football Tops, there was little crowd reaction to any of the group's outpourings of cathartic rock. Perhaps spirits for this one off hometown show had been dampened by the foul weather outside, but given that the band attempt to create big, emotional moments the tunes felt lessened when greeted so nonchalantly, no matter the level of noise generated by the band.

Musically, they sounded fine, powered along by hyperactive drummer Jonna Lofgren, but there was also a sense of the familiar. Only the ramped-up fuzz of I Feel Wrong (Homosexuality Part 1) and the keyboard led Whatever Hurts You Through The Night really stood out, even if the remainder solidly weaved together those Mary Chain and Spector influences, with a touch of U2 on the more overblown guitar moments from Allan and his cousin Rab.

They did dip into their old Christmas record for a few numbers, with A Snowflake Fell (and It Felt Like A Kiss) managing to be both haunting and near hymnal in the Fruitmarket's setting, offering a refreshing change of pace.

It was followed by a closing run of chunky crowd-pleasers from their first album, that satisfyingly tapped into football terrace emotion, with pints flying to the swaggering guitar pop of Geraldine, Ice Cream Van's steady escalation and a terrific, primal version of Go Square Go.

A shame, then, that those tunes also served as notice for the crowd to thin out. They were presumably sated by the ghost of albums past, but the encore's stark, keyboard-centric new song, My Body Is A Glasshouse, offered an intriguing look to the future for a band who still pack a punch, albeit a recognisable one.