Pancakes, yes. Pop, no.

I was going to write some boring, cliched drivel about how god awful Scottish pop music has been and place an apology here stating that I knew it had been done before but I'm going to do it anyway. This would all finish with 'Teenage Fanclub are brilliant' and a recommendation to boot.
Actually I've decided I can't be bothered and that music does not represent a nation in exactly the same way that music cannot betray an emotion. Unless you choose to let it. If you want to think of Scotland as a land that music forgot (I mean Texas, really, why? They weren't any good the first time and the second time they were merely poor but for some reason all of you were buying anything homegrown and recommended by Chris Evans - see also Ocean Colour Scene although at least they aren't Scottish) then feel free.
If, however, like me you choose to belief that your nationality is initially an accident of birth (before sadly becoming an accident of politics or war for some) then you can avoid all helpless, hapless, hopeless national stereotypes. Dundee has little in common with Dunfirmline, Glasgow with Galashiels. Nationality is a human construct designed to lift and separate like a well fitted bra.
So, my favourite band who coincidentally happen to all come from one particular area through a fortuitous accident of birth and economic necessity is Teenage Fanclub. And amongst their rich back catalogue is, what I currently believe to be, the best song ever written, if only for the next fifteen minutes. I give you: I Need Direction by Teenage Fanclub.