Gary Lightbody's arms may be spindly, but his T-shirt's tight enough to bunch around them anyway. Purple cotton corrugates along his small biceps as he raises his arms - a move mirrored by the crowd, who will soon be enraptured by Snow Patrol's relentlessly dull Topshop rock.
The T-shirt rides up with Gary's soft falsetto - exposing a pale stretch of beer-bellied midriff as his little face contorts around the lyrics to the band's 2004 hit 'Chocolate'. Come the predictable 'big'n'stirring' chorus, a bank of lights flare directly into our eyes. He stares at us with undisguised delight. You can almost see him thinking: "You may not like us, churlish hack. But check out the hundreds of paying punters who do."
And they do. They really do. There's coach-loads of people here (literally - we saw them pulling up outside the venue) screaming along to every "What have I done?", "I'll be right beside you" and "Would you lie with me?"
Critical analysis of Snow Patrol's performance and emotions-by-numbers songwriting isn't going to cut it tonight. Similarly, any gripes we have about the sound (muddy, with the backing vocals falling to their death within five feet of the stage) or the suitability of the volume for this venue (it's an intimate space, so why are they hammering away at stadium levels?) will be blocked out by the memory of several hundred people stamping along to songs they cherish.
The thumping peters out and Gary coaxes the crowd through a singalong of 'Shut Your Eyes'. Looking around, ours are the only open ones in the house. And that's what music is about, really: a group of people coming together through a shared love of song - forgetting daily life's distractions, shutting their eyes and singing along. On nights like this it almost doesn't matter if it's "good" music or not. That's just taste and fashion.
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