The Front Bottoms are not eager to demonstrate maturity. Their songs of plaintive heartbreak and wide-eyed escapism read with the hormonal rhythm of a teenage diary.
A group of 20-something musicians singing about high school romance and soft drugs might seem laboured, even cynical given their years.
The squeals and fist thumps of their underage audience though suggested they were at least speaking to someone else’s honest experiences.
Arriving on stage to the cinematic bravado of “Time to Say Goodbye”, their Peter Pan persona was their most charming virtue.
They act comfortably with the crowd, telling the sort of anecdotes and cheesy jokes you could share with close friends.
Lead singer Brian Sella recalled their last Nottingham visit, characterised by a fan throwing punches and puking on those unlucky enough to be nearby. It is these small touches of intimacy that kept the evening ticking along.
And that was something to be thankful for, because the set peaked early.
The Front Bottoms’ deliberate lack of sophistication plays a part in their writing. Across an eight year career they have rarely ventured beyond pop-punk-folk.
If you wanted nothing else you would have been well-fed. With crowd-surfers making venue security work for their wages, it was a royal-feast for some.
But it was plate after plate of the same, sweet meal. Occasionally, there was enough wit to pull you along. Who could not love a lyric like “I was taking steroids, because you like a man with muscles”?
However, these moments flashed by too quickly.
As closing time creaked around, their largely repetitious performance was enough to have induced what felt like the exhaustion of a diabetic coma.