The floor plastered in setlists, Sambuca and MIDI pedals, there's barely room for James to melodramatically drop to his knees in an internal organ-wrenching rendition of Polmont On My Mind amidst the Corona and Crabbie's clutter, suggesting that it's not merely the Glasgow troupe's sound that's outgrown this weather-beaten old barge. Yet this intimacy is evidently something that an ebullient frontman, tonight veiled in white, revels in, meandering into the focal point of the throng during a roisterous Go Square Go to be joined on backing bellow by the eternally adoring masses. Shine Like Stars, shrieked from a glitzed-up Gibson Explorer, is vaguely evocative of War-era U2, whilst an anthemic Euphoria, Take My Hand, in which James clutches onto the digits of an unsuspecting and seemingly underage male member of the front row rounds off the sparse scattering of new material in grandiose fashion. But it's those boozed up, bawling paeans of years past, the likes of It's My Own Cheating Heart That Makes Me Cry, Geraldine and cataclysmic closer Daddy's Gone that tug most vigorously on your heartstrings, twanging out to the tune of glorious despair. Orthological nightmarishness of forthcoming LP EUPHORIC /// HEARTBREAK \\\ aside, Glasvegas are, in all likelihood, set to crash back into your heart with a splash and aplomb.
