Sparklehorse @ Oran Mor

Welcome to the world of Sparklehorse, where the glockenspiel never stops and no one dares raise their voice. A quiet gig in Glasgow is a rare thing, but with the exception of a "COME ON!" and a "Cheer the fuck up!" this crowd is virtually silent, gazing at the stage with creepy catatonic stares. Could the geometric patterns flashing across the backdrop be having a hypnotic effect? It certainly can't be down to Sparklehorse, who is far from engaging, and considerably less jazzy than Mark Linkous's alter ego suggests. His songs are undoubtedly perfectly played, but the sleepy, crackly charm wears off after the first few, and with a tempo of roughly five BPM, interest wanes. Songs like the shimmering Saturday may prove perfect for sun-soaked festival fields, but in a darkened venue, they only serve to provoke a battle between the audience and their increasingly heavy eyelids. [Heather Crumley]