Valentine's Day is a memorial to illicit love, a salute to a Saint who married young lovers in defiance of the state.
Yet there's nothing secretive about London's love affair with Irish newcomers Kodaline. Each time the band hit the capital they seem to play a larger venue, with the historic confines of Camden nightspot Dingwalls awaiting them on their latest British sojourn.
It's a transition they make with remarkable ease. Whereas some young bands are almost embarrassed by their own skills – hiding melody within introverted songcraft – Kodaline seem unafraid to look outwards, to set their sights on higher goals.
Each song feels like a potential anthem, something which could be guzzled up by entire nations. Still raw, the band match the assurance of their delivery with a self-effacing manner which seems to make the crowd (which is, by the way, at least 70% female) swoon at their every word.
It's a consumate show – one which seems to underline both their potential and how far they've come in such a short time.
Words by Robin Murray
Photos by Brendan Docherty