Snow Patrol live at Ulster Hall, Belfast

“Ten fucking years.”
Arms outstretched, swanky lighting awarding him a most pleasing rock star silhouette, it’s safe to say that right now, in a venue where he witnessed some of his own favourite gigs, Gary Lightbody is having a pretty good day at the office.
And who can blame him?
Few bands have explored the bleakest fringes of Belfast’s gig landscape with the thoroughness of Snow Patrol. Over the years we’ve seen them in empty car parks, art colleges, toilets and old music halls; and we’ve watched their frontman fall from stages, whoop with euphoria and, perhaps more times than was absolutely necessary, plead for patience in the face of apathy and, once or twice, open hostility.
Sometimes it’s been more fun for us than them. Sometimes, the other way around.
This time last year the common take on the band ran thus: good blokes, decent records, rotten luck. Now, however, after a top five single, a million selling album, an appearance on Letterman and a back-row spot on the new Band Aid record, a great deal of new thought is necessary in regard to this crew.
On everyone’s part.
The old fans, for example, need to get used to standing shoulder-to-shoulder with folk whose CD collections are clearly unencumbered by copies of Tigermilk.
Those new to the fold – and let’s be honest, they’re in the vast, vast majority – need to trust that divergences from The Final Straw tracklisting can lead to some interesting places.
And the band themselves? Well, all they have to worry about is keeping everyone happy and go on repeating the trick. Easy.
For the first five songs tonight, this seems more like the climax of a feel-good flick than a rock gig. The obvious (and oft-stated) sense of vindication coming off the stage is matched by the fierce goodwill of the home town crowd.
But Snow Patrol, despite the unforced bonhomie, are at heart a dark bunch. Their material is often bleak stuff hewn from personal unhappiness. You ask yourself if it lends itself to joints as big as this. Well, most of the time the answer is yes – ‘Spitting Games’ and ‘Wow’ proving especially potent.
‘Run’, of course, gets the rousing, sing-a-long treatment – but the pleasure of the moment comes from the communal vibe rather than the song itself. For me, the high-point of the show is tucked away mid-set when Iain Archer –another long-term combatant whose fortunes have taken a turn for the better in 2004 -ambles on to provide backing vocals to ‘Shame’. It’s a remarkable, moving moment.
Who knows what lies ahead for all involved? But it’s difficult to think of how it can possibly top this.