Scotland’s Glasvegas seems to know where they’re going. The band’s name itself seems to bracket their trajectory from start to finish in a catchy little portmanteau. And whether you consider the trip from Glasgow to Sin City to be prophetic, or just presumptuous, the quartet has done very well for itself since its inception, winning awards and attention from the likes of NME and Q Magazine.

Though listening to their music, one can’t help but wonder if they’re just a bit too predictable. Even songs with titles like “Stabbed” and “Fuck You, It’s Over” sound utterly un-alienating, bathed in the band’s perpetually swelling instrumentation. The hallmark of Glasvegas’ sound is in the vocals of guitarist and singer James Allan, whose ever-crescendoing whoa-oh-oh-style vocals lose their relevance after a few songs. It’s up to jazz scratchers The Soundmen, then, to do something about it.

And they do. The best mashups and remixes succeed by creating contrast, and Home Demolition thrives on stripping Allan’s lines of lyrical connotations and fashioning them into pure instrumentation. “Legs N’ Show” opens with a We-Will-Rock-You party beat, and uses Allan’s emotive voice in percussive bursts over a jubilant synthesizer. Over the course of seven songs, the elements coalesce into bittersweet club jams, mostly kept together with prominent hip-hop thumps.

That doesn’t mean that The Soundmen don’t have any tricks up their sleeve. “Stabbed” benefits from a lethargic quarter-speed scratch session before the beat amps up again, this time up tempo. Small flourishes are everywhere–from pitch shifted vocals to rapid-fire guitar cut-ups–but, generally, The Soundmen avoid showy manipulation in favor of subtlety. “Whitey” barely gets touched in the mixing process, but gets spit out sounding ironically like a dub classic, thanks to a few well placed drum hits. “The Prettiest Thing On Salcoats Beach” is easily the album’s best. For once, the beat backs off a little, allowing the gorgeous effects to fill in, drenched in echo and reverb, and a warbling steel drum and lazy guitar guide the languid beach jam through The Soundmen’s rhythmic hoops.

Glasvegas’ limited discography (currently holding steady at two studio albums) seems to make the idea of something like Home Demolition unwarranted, or at least unnecessary. But while parts of the album feel rehashed, gems like “Salcoats Beach” demonstrate the chemistry that can exist between the two acts, given the right conditions.

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