‘AVERAGE’ is my friend’s response to a text telling him I’m going to watch Glasvegas.

‘Not in the slightest,’ is my reply.

It has been a long time since a band got me as excited as this Glaswegian four-piece and as they emerge from the smoke and strobes and the sweeping opening chords of the Flower and Football Tops oscillate through the venue, the atmosphere is electric.

As the crowd joins in with the closing refrain of You Are My Sunshine and the feeling transforms from one of being at a gig to shouting from the terraces.

The set is a mixture of yearning indie shoe gazing – Polmont on My Mind and Please Come Back Home – dreary droning - Stabbed and Ice Cream Van – and soaring, anthemic majesty – Geraldine and Daddy’s Gone.

A mixture of 50s cool and Gorballs grit, Glasvegas are compelling to watch and hear – you can feel the sheer wall of sound they produce in the pit of your stomach.

Some of the album tracks just don’t work live, but the majority are brillant and they feel raw, vital, powerful and at points, even dangerous – about as far from average as it’s possible to get.