Snow Patrol

If rock critics teach nothing else, let it be to never turn up to a free bar, drunk. No matter how you look at it, you’re constantly fighting a losing battle. Falling over and talking nonsense does not make you cool. Not that free bars exist very often outside of the sordid world of the music business.

So, the New Kings of Rock’n’Roll, what a novel concept for a Channel 4 series. But why are Snow Patrol here? Their plodding indie, apart from having guitars, is not rock’n’roll. But then, what is rock’n’roll nowadays? Is it haircuts and catchy riffs? Or is it about acting like a retard yet remaining sexy-as-fuck, living a depraved lifestyle rammed full of leeches and beautiful women, set in swimming pools and dirty venues, with buffets like corner shops and nights that never stop? Has it come to this: polite boys, gently strumming guitars and singing about their broken hearts and miserable lives?

Meanwhile, as I mumble nonsense into my fourteenth beer, Snow Patrol hook some pastey album tracks around the big single and pro-smoking anthem ’Run’. Their eyes look tired and their cheeky Irish wit only gets them so far – tho the ladies love that_ accent with all those drunk associations and terrorist undertones. The set passes and nothing really happens. They’re still the same old Snow Patrol who bored us and fell off stage, back in the days when Travis were having hits. They’re still the same Snow Patrol, yet they don’t play ’Starfighter Pilot’ and none of it matches up to Gary Lightbody’s side-project offerings under the Reindeer Section guise.