Snow Patrol

The career of Snow Patrol is an example of pragmatism paying off. They began life as a winsome indie band with a passing resemblance to Belle and Sebastian, performing songs called things like Get Balsamic Vinegar ... Quick You Fool, apparently by mistake: their 2001 album Final Straw suggested what they'd really wanted to do all along was make commercial, post-Coldplay stadium rock of the sort that gets played in the background while children expire on Grey's Anatomy. In fairness, you too might consider a musical volte-face if performing songs like Get Balsamic Vinegar ... had resulted in your playing to 18 people in a strip club in High Wycombe.

But now, umpteen million sales later, something odd appears to have happened to Snow Patrol. "I hope you realised before you bought the fucking tickets that we're going to do something different," offers frontman Gary Lightbody, before launching into what seems like a concerted effort to turn Snow Patrol back into the band they once were. They play a plethora of tracks from their first two flop albums – alas, Get Balsamic Vinegar Quick ... is noticeable by its absence – and that of Lightbody's obscure solo project Reindeer Section. Abetted by an army of backing musicians, they perform the big hits in, and there's no getting around this, a style reminiscent of Belle and Sebastian: muted French horns and strings, delicate electric piano, splashes of banjo and pedal-steel guitar.

A sceptical voice would suggest that, having made millions courting the mainstream, they're now doing what they actually want to again. Lightbody presents it as a charitable treat for the fans: "The idea is to give you something different from the last time we played." You get the feeling some of the audience wish he'd curbed his munificence, given that the show lasts nearly three hours. They receive the old stuff politely, rather than with the enthusiasm of people experiencing a Damascene conversion, and they have a point – whatever you make of the chart-chasing sound of Run or Chasing Cars, they're better songs than, say, their debut single Starfighter Pilot, although the real problem may be one of a cultural clash. When Lightbody mentions Belle and Sebastian, the audience react as if he's started speaking in Urdu. There's a baffled silence, as if no one has any idea what he's on about.

Eventually, they come round, won over by Lightbody's cajoling and a fantastic version of If There's a Rocket Tie Me to It. By the end, they're on their feet, demanding an encore. If you were feeling cynical, you'd say they're doing that in the hope of hearing some songs they know, but cynicism is hard to maintain when the show, for its flaws, displays more in the way of risk-taking and bravery than you might normally associate with the band behind it.