In the space of the last two years, Glasvegas have managed to attract a hype that would make even the marketers of Hollywood blockbusters jealous, drawing all kinds of comparisons for their audibly greasy and powerfully excellent chip shop rock n roll.
The most frequent and purposefully headline grabbing of these has to be their ‘new Oasis’ tag, a label that seems fairly at odds with a band initially known for the strength of their Scottish accents, but one that does at least have a little weight.
Discovered by Alan McGee? Check. While playing third on the bill at King Tut’s Wah Wah Hut in Glasgow? Check. Fronted by brothers? Check. Purveyors of moody, shouty anthems? Check, check and check again.
Of course, those kind of easy links are a record label’s dream, and the clamour won by Columbia for the signatures of the band has drummed up a fire and safety-busting capacity (and then some) crowd at the comparably small Scala in King’s Cross.
