From the student halls of the University of Dundee via frontman Gary Lightbody’s picturesque hometown of Bangor, to the East of Belfast, Snow Patrol’s journey has been a long and winding one. Before hitting the jackpot with ‘Run’, they released two largely ignored albums, had multiple name changes (meet Shrug, Polarbear, and an EP named for some kind of argument about yoghurt) before they could leave their day jobs. The eventual mega-success, when it came, was fuelled by arguably still their finest moment, 2002’s ‘Final Straw’, and laid down the markers on a serious theme: this band perform from their very heart.
More than two decades later, that theme still stands true. Now reduced to a trio following the departure of long-time members Jonny Quinn and Paul Wilson (though two touring musicians fill their shoes on stage), the band recently released ‘The Forest Is The Path’, a first album in six years. On it, and in the accompanying book released by Lightbody, they continue that sense of affable and soaring emotional vulnerability.
The forest theme, too, runs visually through tonight. While the band are clearly a fan of a laser or two, the rest of the stage set up is modest and restrained: there’s lots of organic-feeling tree décor, a Blair-Witch like backing video in which we explore tiny forest trails at night, and some clever overlaying of band members across various smokey and neon treescapes. In amongst it, the band don’t shy away from what they know their audience want: the hits.
The setlist for the album tour has not varied a great deal, and acts as an exploration of the band’s back catalogue without any particular favour paid to the new stuff. ‘Take Back The City’ is an emphatic opener, as it has been every night, and triggers an immediate sing-along from the first chord as the band appear from under a large lit-up Dublin sign and a city backdrop.
These songs come to life live: what can seem a little middle of the road on record often punches harder from a stage, with several deeply emotional moments. ‘Crack The Shutters’ ode to letting the world in soars, while ‘Set Fire To The Third bar’, featuring a digital version of Martha Wainwright on co-lead, is out of character for the band in its minor-key, vocally-winding explorations, but such a fine, jarring and delicate song that it simply has to be included.
Of course, the smashes are all here, too, and Lightbody comically forgetting a couple of the words to his first classic ‘Run’, which is dropped early, doesn’t take away from that ‘light up’ refrain echoing deafeningly through the arena.
There’s a pause before ‘Talking About Hope’, during which Lightbody points to keyboard player Johnny McDaid and explains that he started the tour on the same day that he had an operation to fix his hand after it became trapped in a train door, and hasn’t missed a thing since. It’s one of the weaker songs in the set, but the sentiment fits with what is becoming a sense of real communion.
The twin offerings of ‘Shut Your Eyes’ and ‘Open Your Eyes’, somewhat comically placed a song apart on the setlist, feature plenty of call and response, with almost meditative qualities to the way they ebb and flow. ‘Chasing Cars’ has become so familiar, but exudes real beauty in that gorgeous chorus, while an emphatic ‘You’re All I Have’ feels directed at the band’s loyal following. There’s a lot of quality here, both in the radio-friendly hits and in the way they’re put across, which is bright, engaging, and feels like it still all means something.
Throughout it all, Lightbody sits somewhere between conductor and a happy celebrant of the love being directed towards him and his memorable Northern lilt. Over twenty years ago, when Snow Patrol closed a set on Glastonbury’s Other Stage with ‘Run’, it felt like the moment the band’s success came home to him, as he stood and wept while the crowd sang in his place. Tonight it’s a more composed acceptance of the adoration thrown his way, but there’s no question that he’s still lapping up the whole experience with a really pure-feeling form of joy.
The choice of ‘Just Say Yes’ as an encore closer might almost feel like it’s there in place of ‘Run’, but it feels weighty, too. It’s another nod to the continuation of Lightbody and co’s tendency to lay their hearts on the line in public through song, and a thank you to those who choose to experience it with them. Theirs is likeable music with soul, and the positivity at their shows reflects that.
Above all, Snow Patrol remain conscious of their power, sometimes near operatic and nearly always upbeat, and feel like a band able to draw smiles from the rawness of their own heartache. They’ve come and gone, taken their time, and returned with a fine album that they don’t feel the need to put front and centre too much. Instead, they’re performing for a fanbase that grew up in the emotional force of their finest corners.
This show is, in short, epically well judged: it’s a celebration, an exploration of a band’s identity after so many years, with a voice of experience ensuring all the right shifts in tone and highs and lows strike home. Snow Patrol have grown and fluttered in and out of our peripheral vision at times over the years, but what they still serve up is a reliably, thoughtfully brilliant show. One that speaks with familiarity to the soul.
