This was the wrong show to have forgotten to bring earplugs. Scotland's newest highly hyped export, Glasvegas, are not afraid to be very, very loud. They've got fuzzy shoegaze guitar riffs that would make their countrymen in The Jesus and Mary Chain proud, and the audience-filling charm that would make bands like the amazing but overlooked Twilight Sad jealous. Even those of us with throbbing eardrums found the band magnetic enough to overlook the pain and hearing loss and look forward to the day when they'd return for more.

Singer James Allan came onstage wearing a gray pea coat, which is about as stereotypically Scottish as their understated sense of humor. After wowing the crowd with some surprisingly sweet hooks and completely unforced energy, they responded loud audience requests with deadpan one-liners and sly smiles.

The only bone to pick with Glasvegas is with their percussion. There are bands, The Crystal Stilts, for example, where the minimalistic drum are acceptable and in fact ideal. It hardly makes sense for a band with a minimalistic sensibility to have any more than short, perky beats. But for a band that clearly draws a lot from sonically dense like The Velvet Underground, drummer Caroline McKay's overwhelmingly elementary combinations stick out like a sore thumb.

Luckily for Glasvegas, this shortcoming didn't seem to faze the large crowd of fans. After "Geraldine", one audience member shouted "play that one again," and during set closer "Daddy's Gone", Allan actually turned the singing over to the audience, who responded with surprising clarity. Perhaps it's no surprise then that Allan told the crowd that if they had more to play for us that they would (with only one album out they are admittedly a little short on material for a full live show), and that D.C. was "by far our favorite show in the U.S." You're welcome.