Glasvegas (Columbia)

Rather like Glasvegas’ self-titled debut, a vague Phil Spector influence is evident throughout this six-track, 22-minute Christmas album.

Even the title nods to a record Spector produced for the Crystals in 1962.

But the over-arching inspiration for this hastily released set, available in its own right and as an add-on disc packaged with the group’s debut, seems to have been fellow Glaswegians The Jesus 
& Mary Chain: essentially, ringing pop melodies married to swirly guitars and tinny drumming.

Unlike the Reids, though, James Allan hasn’t quite got the hang of it yet.

All the reverb in the world can’t disguise the fact that there really isn’t much of a song on Please Come Back Home, while Fuck You, It’s Over doesn’t offer much more than an unusually expressive bit of swearing in the chorus, and the title track is rather spoiled by Allan’s own constipated vocals.

It’s all a bit Black Rebel Motorcycle Club.

The highlight is the very end of the record, when a Romanian choir sing Silent Night (in Romanian) over a vast, echoey, ambient backdrop.

In the context of what’s gone before, it sounds like an acknowledgment that sometimes, the old ones really are still the best. WILL FULFORD-JONES

Glasvegas (Columbia)

Rather like Glasvegas’ self-titled debut, a vague Phil Spector influence is evident throughout this six-track, 22-minute Christmas album.

Even the title nods to a record Spector produced for the Crystals in 1962.

But the over-arching inspiration for this hastily released set, available in its own right and as an add-on disc packaged with the group’s debut, seems to have been fellow Glaswegians The Jesus 
& Mary Chain: essentially, ringing pop melodies married to swirly guitars and tinny drumming.

Unlike the Reids, though, James Allan hasn’t quite got the hang of it yet.

All the reverb in the world can’t disguise the fact that there really isn’t much of a song on Please Come Back Home, while Fuck You, It’s Over doesn’t offer much more than an unusually expressive bit of swearing in the chorus, and the title track is rather spoiled by Allan’s own constipated vocals.

It’s all a bit Black Rebel Motorcycle Club.

The highlight is the very end of the record, when a Romanian choir sing Silent Night (in Romanian) over a vast, echoey, ambient backdrop.

In the context of what’s gone before, it sounds like an acknowledgment that sometimes, the old ones really are still the best. WILL FULFORD-JONES