The NME Awards Tour 2009 came to Oxford on Tuesday. The tour that has helped, in the past, to launch the careers of bands such as Franz Ferdinand and Arctic Monkeys returned to showcase the talents of four more NME-endorsed hopefuls. Glasvegas, Friendly Fires, White Lies, and Florence and the Machine were the chosen ones this time around. Of these acts, the highest hopes are surely held for Glasvegas. The hype surrounding those four Glaswegians and their peculiar brand of epic indie last year was unbelievable; this year they intend to prove that it was warranted.
Speaking to the band, it’s clear that success came as a surprise to a group whose singer James Allan was on the dole in January of last year. ‘It’s great, if bizarre. You wouldn’t have thought it, coming from where we’re from’ says the band’s drummer, Caroline McKay. ‘God knows what we’d be doing if things hadn’t taken off… Life’s bizarre.’
The band’s members grew up in east Glasgow, and are proud of their working-class roots and the city that raised them. ‘We’re proud to represent Glasgow, it’s a great city, and it’s beautiful.’ Their name reflects this pride, along with the broad Glaswegian accent in which James Allan delivers the band’s vocals.
McKay is keen to maintain, however, that the music transcends regional boundaries: ‘the lyrics are bigger than Glasgow, they’re about human emotions and human vulnerability. It’s universal.’ Here McKay underlines part of what’s special about Glasvegas. As a Glaswegian singing emotional songs about crying and absent fathers, Allan embodies a fascinating juxtaposition of sensitivity and unflinching manliness.
Glasvegas are keen for us to know that they are a band with a social conscience; they know where they came from, and they don’t plan to forget. The band undertook a prison tour in 2007, McKay believes it was crucial to the band’s development. ‘It was a great experience but it was incredibly emotional. You’re looking into the eyes of a group of people who are all dressed the same, locked up together for a multitude of reasons. The response we got was unbelievable but it was sad sometimes.’
I’m not a big fan of the O2 Academy, but at least it’s not prison. This crowd could probably escape if it wanted to, though this seems unlikely tonight as all four acts impress.
Florence and the Machine were first on, and are a fascinating prospect. The wailing voice is a little overwhelming at first, filling the room and assaulting your ears in a way that takes some getting used to. When it combines most effectively with the music it is a powerful weapon, however, and at times the effect was stunning. Florence flung herself about the stage in a self-consciously theatrical stupor and a basque that struggled to keep the buoyant singer’s bustling bosom under cover.
White Lies were next to grace the stage to embark on what was the least interesting of the night’s sets. Joy Division are clearly a big influence, though White Lies are yet to record anything which comes near the quality of that band’s legacy, despite showing flashes of what has clearly impressed someone in the past.
Friendly Fires had the Academy dancing within seconds of taking to the stage, thirty minutes later the crowd wondered what had hit them. Their confusing brand of indie/dance-pop is entertaining, though it’s not clear why it exists, or indeed, like some biological accident conceived in one of Oxford’s science labs, whether it should.
Glasvegas stepped forward next, striding flamboyantly about the stage, safe in the knowledge that the audience had paid to be there and were not being held under lock and key. Their set was stunning, exciting and emotionally potent; they owned the stage. The air of confidence around the band is striking. The media furore and hype hasn’t intimidated them in the slightest, and they just want to show now that it was justified.
Asked what level of success they’d settle for, the answer came instantly: ‘world domination; settle for nothing less.’
