Album Review: Glasvegas - EUPHORIC /// HEARTBREAK \\\

Despite the fact that its earnestly-stylised title is about as subtle as a nosebleed, EUPHORIC /// HEARTBREAK \\\ does actually get off to quite a promising start: 'Pain Pain Never Again' opens with shimmering synths and a dash of spoken French, before those big Spectorish drums crash in and all of a sudden it feels like Glasvegas were never away. For a few minutes at least, the listener's hopes that the Glaswegians might be about to match the majesty of their lavish 2008 debut remain intact. For three whole minutes, to be precise. Unfortunately, there then follows what can only be described as three-quarters of an hour made up of increasingly banal lyrics, epically lazy production and an overall sense of such horrible self-importance that, by the time the bottom of the barrel arrives in the form of album-closer 'Change' (more about this 'track' later), you'll begin to rue the day when ears became a part of the human body.

Perhaps we ought to have taken the choice of song titles as due warning – seriously, check out some of these beauties: 'Shine Like Stars'; 'Whatever Hurts You Through The Night' (cringe); and – wait for it – 'Stronger than Dirt (Homosexuality, Pt.2)'. Of course, a crime as superficial as overwrought song titles could be overlooked if the music retained even half the vitality displayed on that self-titled debut; alas, where once James Allan and co.'s stock in trade was big pop hooks and singalong choruses, they now seem reliant on limp playing and one-line choruses that are quickly submerged beneath Flood's overly-epic production. The band's dogma here was clearly along the lines of 'bigger is better', and while there's no law against such an approach, it's an awful shame the tunes got left behind (WAY behind!) somewhere along the way.

Special mention must go to the aforementioned 'Change', the album's delusional closing number and a cack-handed study in overblown angst: featuring a shameless, stupendously-uncalled-for spoken-word contribution from Allan's poor mother (sample line: "C'mon, son, let's earn each other's love..."), it's hard to know whether to laugh, cry or throw up upon first hearing it. Play it at full volume first thing in the morning if you fancy a day off work – the nauseous feeling that's brought on is bound to keep you in bed for at least a few hours.