Gig review: Randolph’s Leap, Edinburgh Queen’s Hall

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IT FEELS as though enough time has passed since every other band on the Glasgow music scene was staffed by Belle-&-Sebastian obsessives in opaque spectacles and chunky-knit cardigans, as to not be courting cliché by using the word “twee” in describing them.

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The eight-piece (five men and three women, including two brass players and a violinist) Randolph’s Leap seem to have no such problems themselves: one of their songs encourages them to be less so, knowingly referencing “that overrated indie film called Juno” and the fact they have a song called Crisps. Playing their largest show to date, they showed just why they are a band deserving of every shred of love and success which came Belle & Sebastian’s way before them.

Their large number was enough to create a sound which blasted out through the hall, a joyous fanfare of youthful excitement built on walloped guitars and crooning horns on songs like The Nonsense in My Soul and new single News, or just a heartbreakingly bittersweet duet between singer, guitarist and songwriter Adam Ross and drummer Iain Taylor on I Can’t Dance to This Music Anymore. They fit into the same line of delicate but incisive Scots indie-pop acts as BMX Bandits and Ballboy, but Ross’ songwriting is warmly, loveably unique, managing to turn a succession of ropey puns and brave rhymes into hilarious storytelling (one protagonist declares “you sit there in your chinos eating jalapeños”; another, a charlatan psychic, pulls off the bravura juxtaposition of “pakora” and “Derek Acorah”). Their fans demanded dancing, and there was plenty – and deservedly so.