It's rare for a band to have the ability to pen mature, potentially massive, songs yet still retain a sense of locality and modesty in their music. The thick Scottish accent rolling unimpeded out of Glasvegas frontman, James Allan, is proudly grounded in the pubs and bars of his native Glasgow. This quality slices through the reverb-laden, atmospheric background of their songs, lending an irresistible intimacy that tempers the enormity of the sound.

Allan's raw lyrics will likely draw comparisons with the Arctic Monkeys' scribe, Alex Turner. Although perhaps not mirroring Turner's genius knack for mass-appeal, there is something about Glasvegas that—like the Arctic Monkeys—makes them sound as though the songs were written just for you.

Thankfully, however, they don't pander to the trendy London-based hipsters they may be categorized alongside. The music is dark, honest and thoroughly developed, fusing styles as diverse as rockabilly and punk.

Visually, they stand on the thin line between Jonny Cash and Joe Strummer: decades apart but joined at the hip by dark glasses, leather jackets and slick black hair. This unabashed coolness wouldn't work if it didn't have the substance to back it up. Luckily, for us and them, Glasvegas have it.