I recently witnessed Ed Sheeran perform at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, California. He’s quite the entertainer, but this post isn’t about him.
This post concerns his opening act: Snow Patrol.
When I was in high school, Snow Patrol became popular. Their hit song “Chasing Cars” was on everyone’s lips, but their popularity ultimately faded as they failed to produce new music.
They became forgettable.
So when I heard that they would be opening up for Ed, I was annoyed. Snow Patrol was old news. I didn’t care that they had a new album; I didn’t want to hear it. In my mind, opening acts should be for bands who are up and coming, and as far as I was concerned, Snow Patrol’s ship had already sailed.
But on the day of the concert, when they finally started to strum, drum, and sing, I couldn’t help but notice their fervency. Between songs, the lead singer communicated that it had taken them seven years to release a new album. He joked about how incredible their new music had to be since they had made their fans wait so long.
This got me thinking about time. I, too, have my own seven year gaps, secret dreams that drift, hoping to rescued, valued, and tended.
When the band finally performed “Chasing Cars,” it didn’t matter that seven years had passed.
We still knew every word.