Why Coldplay are decent and it's dismissive to refer to them as bland

By Matt Rogers
First created 01 November 2008 | Last updated 06 February 2010

I’m a huge Coldplay fan. I think they’re a wicked band who are regrettably an easy target for delinquent music snobs obsessed with the next baying, screeching, raw cacophony they can smugly delude themselves into thinking they’ve found, only to turn against them in apathy when the second album is released to a fanfare of studio polish, broader sounds and they’re sucked into bleating the dismissive opinions of callous music rags. Shower of bastards they are.

My first exposure to Coldplay was Yellow, a tune I thought was okay but nothing special. 2000 was the year I started university and also the year which ended with me ballooning to a monstrous 18 stone in early 2001. No wonder I wasn’t into them, I was too busy eating myself into cholesterol attuned heart attack and premature death by the time I was 20. Next came Trouble, a decent if slightly depressing tune but it still didn’t instil any of the feelings that I get when I listen to their stuff today. I came home from uni one weekend to find I could barely fit through the front door and my mum and dad had purchased Parachutes. This rare excursion into modern music would be for most hellish offspring, the chance to mock their folks for trying to regain what they lost when you told them, “No, despite your protests, Spandau Ballet aren’t cool. They’re shite. So is all eighties music for that matter. Except for Bowie’s forays and A-Ha. A-Ha rule.”

However, I don’t say this because my mum and dad, like me, hate Spandau Ballet and have a truly awe inspiring collection of vinyl. Ogden’s Nut Gone Flake circular album cover; an original edition of Hunky Dory; the Red and Blue Beatles albums on red and blue vinyl. So they’re completely exempt from any holier-than-thou, know-it-all sermonising on cool, especially by someone as totally uncool as me. Plus they raised me on a diet of Mowtown from the age of 3 when all around them were inflicting that terrible decade’s frightening decadence and blandness on their poor, unsuspecting children. Dear parents of mine, you have no idea how grateful I am.

I think at this stage it’s worth mentioning that prior to the summer of 2001, I didn’t like dance music and hated the idea of clubbing. I was a terrible dancer and could no way do it sober, and this was my knee jerk reaction to friends who were frequenting Bugged Out in Liverpool once a month to listen to Dave Clarke and Justin Robertson. Of course, I never went to Bugged Out and that will always be one of the things I’ll look back on and regret, but that summer I discovered dance music. Breakbeat, techno, house and all its varieties (acid, tech, funky etc.) dub, electro, disco. We partied like it was gonna be a big fat gone when the morning came and the comedown started. In the space of 12 weeks I went back to university a different person. Most definitely a better person, not that I was bad before or anything, but now I was just a person who I’d felt the most comfortable being. So in came dance music and out went anything to do with any other kind of music. At least until I heard Rush of Blood to the Head in Pevensey Bay, Brighton, December 2002.

We were shooting our final grad film in this giant holiday home on the beach and the film’s editor had a copy with him. I wasn’t really interested if truth be told but once we wrapped he lent us the CD for the drive home, and that I think is the moment I became a convert. Listening to Politik and the aggressive calm which yo-yo’s backward and forward; the perfect first single In My Place; the exciting drive and weird guitar psychedelia of God Put a Smile on Your Face; that emotive feeling you get every time you listen to The Scientist, a truly beautiful song, followed by the sweeping intensity of Clocks. Then there’s the second part of the album. Usually this is where a lot of bands fail. The one I think is most apt to mention is The Man Who by Travis. Good singles and a respectable closer but the rest is dross. Rush of Blood seemingly avoids these pitfalls. A Warning Sign is sweet, melodic and gets kudos for appearing on an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 6. One of my favourite bands and favourite shows, colliding in a maelstrom of geeky adoration, very nice! Green Eyes is an upbeat meditation on rocks, the sea and denial…or something. The album’s title track which hauntingly points the finger at America’s foreign policy yet thankfully avoids obvious and clichéd preachiness and finally Amsterdam, which is an elegant slow burner and ensures you half close your eyes when you listen to it. I’ve missed a couple of tunes but they’re basically fillers which, despite being above average, in my opinion don’t quite match up to the rest of the album.

And then suddenly, a huge hole turned up. No more new Coldplay music for 3 years. It wasn’t like I’d exhausted Rush of Blood but I’m confident it’s what reignited my passion for men and their instruments. Dance was still prevalent and to an extent still is. After finishing uni we had some awesome nights. There was the Tribal Warehouse Party in Manchester 2003, Laurent Garnier at Circus and the Plump DJ’s, Stanton Warriors and Dave Clarke at Chibuku, both in 2004. But it slowly started to become all about the bands again, as it had been in my formative years. Since finishing uni I’ve seen the Bees, Zero 7 a bunch of times, Embrace, Sia, The Zutons, Stereophonics, Muse, Jose Gonzales, Corrine Bailey Rae, MGMT, Circlesound and loads of other local Chester bands, been to Glastonbury, V Festival, The Big Chill and seen, finally seen the band who are the epicentre of this rambling twaddle. I even grew my hair from February of 2004 to November 2006, just to feel like I belonged to the band scene.

For the Coldplay gig, the Reebok stadium was the venue and X&Y was the tour. I got the album about a week before and confess I didn’t like it that much. I thought there was too much expectation and like any demanding obsession, it was never going to be enough. Then I relaxed a bit, did some housework and it all clicked together like a giant musical jigsaw locking itself together with the fractured intricacy and intimacy of a Picasso in my head. Square One is totally different to anything they have ever done, echoes and stars colliding in a swooshing fusion. What If is mellow and downtrodden yet uplifting at the same time. White Shadows is one of my favourite Coldplay tunes and Fix You is truly anthemic. One only has to hear it live to be swept away by its grandiosity.

The gig was everything I hoped for and more. I’ve been to see people I love before and been indifferent, which is worse than being disappointed. Not this time. Me and my mate, John had a couple of beers and an absolutely epic spliff, and we were both blown away by the experience of being there, in the middle of a swaying, enraptured crowd. I was infected by everything, the atmosphere, the music, the performance. I left feeling contented, really stoned and not even a three hour queue to get home could crush my satisfaction. It was without doubt the most rewarding musical experience of my life. I haven’t heard the new album yet. Bet I probably won’t like it too, at least initially. But I’m certain at some stage I will, such is my love for the band.