Hoisted further up the hype list every week, the burden of expectation must weigh heavy on Glasvegas by now.

They do seem concerned with setting the mood before their shows get under way. Scarcely a review goes by without talk of dry ice, red light and a choice entrance soundtrack.

Just after ten on Thursday night the lights went down, the stage was swathed in red mist, and Moon River began to play quietly.

This is the kind of behaviour Glasvegas can get away with because they've got the stage presence to back up the dramatics.

Quiff set and shades on, frontman James Allan cut right through Johnny Mercer's soft pop classic with a brutal opener of Flowers And Football Tops.

Allan is not a mover, nor much of a talker, but he's got a reverb-heavy wall of sound and painfully honest lyrics that render chit chat and dancing a bit of non-starter anyway.

There really are no extravagances to Glasvegas and it's a double- edged sword. Caroline McKay's drumming, which she does standing, is conspicuous for its unorthodoxy but is also painfully simple. Pounding a floor tom and a snare works well for anthems such as Geraldine, but when repeated for every song, the impact quickly dulls.

On the other hand, complicating things would ruin what Glasvegas do best: writing candid, powerful pop songs and delivering them with unwavering intensity. The real problem is they can't do enough of it.

Their cover of The Ronettes's Be My Baby was dashed by a depressingly unenthusiastic crowd, and closing anthem Daddy's Gone left more than a few bemused faces when it arrived after only half-an-hour of set time.

With a few more numbers and a more receptive audience, I guarantee Glasvegas as a knockout live band.