It is both thrilling and frustrating to witness a show like this, if witness is the right word for an evening spent with nose pressed into the overexcited moistness of a Glasvegas fan's back.

It sometimes happens that a band signs up to play at a venue whose size matched their popularity at the time, but the intervening months bring rapid fame and demand that far exceeds supply. I have never seen the Scala so uncomfortably rammed than for this Glasgow quartet, whose debut album was just pipped to the No 1 spot by Metallica last week. Their hugely stirring rock songs will soon be bellowed by the same substantial, lad-heavy crowds who currently lob their pints to the sounds of Arctic Monkeys and Oasis.

It is perhaps the Oasis comparisons that have got them into this position. Alan McGee, the man who discovered Oasis in Glasgow, has been talking himself into a hyperbolic froth over their genius (though he's backed plenty of lame ducks in his time too). Plus frontman James Allan has a Gallagher-esque ear for simple, rousing choruses that are pure terrace anthems, perhaps inspired by his former career as a footballer with Queen's Park and Falkirk. You don't even need to alter the lyrics of Go Square Go's "Here we, here we, here we f***ing go" climax for it to make it as a football chant. Musically they were more complex, taking Phil Spector's wall of sound and knocking it down with a wrecking ball of crackling feedback.

The sweet melodies/squalling guitars thing has been done before by My Bloody Valentine and most obvious reference point The Jesus And Mary Chain, but rather than obscuring the strength of the songs, with Glasvegas the noise seems to add essential ballast to Allan's impassioned, thickly accented vocals.

With monochrome outfits and visuals and in Caroline McKay, a drummer as rudimentary as they get, here they were the Black-and-White Stripes. If Allan had a personality he hid it behind sunglasses, but when he sang, he soared. Geraldine was an upbeat ode to an angelic social worker who now, incidentally, runs the band's T-shirt stand. Flowers & Football Tops was an emotional response to the story of murdered Glasgow teenager Kriss Donald.

If that sounds too gritty, it was tempered by melodies that were effortlessly uplifting. These are dark, often angry songs, but more and more people are singing along.

1 December, Shepherd's Bush Empire (0844 477 2000).