Scotland, we need to talk. 

The second of June in London held one of the finest Scottish line ups of the year : Fatherson supported by The Xcerts. I mean, how do you get any better than that?

Oh, I know.

You don't.

You can still, though, throw Rob Lynch in the mix. (I know, I know, he's not Scottish) I had been acquainted with his music when I had seen him supporting All Time Low at one of their acoustic Hippodrome gigs last year and I had liked what I had heard. And I have liked what I have heard at the Scala. I have even recognised a couple of songs. I have even been hit by a lyric (in an emo way, I mean) - I probably should have written it down, but it was the one about letting go if it doesn't ignite a fire. That hit home. Hard.

And then you have The Xcerts, Scotland's finest, my life's finest. As soon as they kick in with 2014's Live Like This, the question is in my head : how are this lot not the biggest band in the world right now? How is the general public living with itself and without The Xcerts? They are one of the best live bands there is, always able to produce picture perfect renditions of their songs, always able to get a crowd involved, always able to surprise you - hello He Sinks, He Sleeps and its Brand New-esque accents. They are also one of the best live bands there is because they have one of the most charismatic frontmen there is. I mean, the voice, the stage presence and the dad jokes? Come on. That's frontman of the year material. Come ON, world. Give your attention to The Xcerts, like, now. You won't regret it.

I have seen Fatherson live once and you know that story. I was hungover and sad and angry and upset and I had no make up on and my hair was a mess and I turned up at Brighton's Hope and Ruin in my Sad Songs sweater convinced that the name of the venue was the most accurate representation of my life there will ever be.

Three months later I turned up at the Scala fresh as a daisy, looking tiny and adorable and happy and content and surrounded by friends and at peace with myself and life. And yet Fatherson still feel like the warm hug and the "you'll be okay" they had been in the tiny room with the terrible light. They still feel comforting, still feel like an old friend and a cup of tea. The crowd and atmosphere help that feeling, of course they do - everyone is shouting every word together like one big happy family (I even witness a friendship forming next to me) and the communication between the band and its audience feels like a giant family reunion.

Fatherson are here to support the release of their newest album, Open Book, which is set to be super successful. It has to be, it's stunning. New songs, old songs, everything is welcome with warmth and enthusiasm, with shouts and smiles and drinks held in the air. And the band who produces those tracks is on fire, making every word and every note sound powerful yet comforting. I've never seen a band who feels that much like home considering that my home couldn't be further away from Scotland if I tried. And, believe you me, that is one of the most beautiful feelings there is. 

So, Scotland, you and I, we need to talk. What is it in the water that makes your people that talented? Is it in the air? Is there a secret ingredient in the deep fried Mars bars? I think we need answers now.