To say I hate Coldplay would borderline hyperbole. But it wouldn't be THAT far removed from the truth. Somethings about the Brit pop stars rub me the wrong way. Last Friday, Josie emailed me, saying she was offered tickets in a Bell Center lodge, for the Coldplay show. Caught in a conundrum between committing audio suicide and looking extremely childish to my girlfriend, I decided to go. In good Hunter S. Thompson adventurer fashion, I told myself that if I had to crack, it would be amongst twenty-two thousand delirious Coldplay fans. Worst comes to worst, I could get drunk. For free. Here are my collected thoughts.
People in the lodge are normal (we're maybe twelve), but the people outside are fucking weird. There's a man, probably in his fifties, wearing a white turtle neck and swaying his hips like Ricky Martin. Is that what Coldplay fans are like? Is it their demographic?
My hatred of Coldplay is entirely based on the few songs they bombed the radio airwaves with. Audio Luftwaffe. I have to give them something though. They are one of the tightest band I've ever heard. The songs sound, note for note, like those on the record. Some bands butcher their hits live, not these guys. They only butcher music when they write it.
I need a beer.
YELLOW has been written by Satan or by an Ancient Sumerian Deity dark enough for H.P Lovecraft to write about. It was given to mankind in order to make them slow, mediocre and apathetic. It's probably responsible for 50% of my Coldplay hatred comes from this song. Fuck, it's so bad. When Chris Martin asks the crowd to sing the chorus one more time, my ears start bleeding and I see my own death.
You know what, Chris Martin? I'm on to your bullshit. I don't buy your "sophisticated rocker guy" act, with your pink shirt and your watered-down shoe-gazing music. I have culture too, man. You're not above me. I've read James Joyce and I still think The Stooges are a better band. Iggy Pop could bury your ass on stage and in a street fight. The 65 years old, modern day Iggy.
THE SCIENTIST is an interesting song. It fails to give me strong emotions, but there is something about that song that there isn't in the others. Or maybe it's the irritating nature of the other songs that not in this one. It's more lyrics-oriented and it doesn't have all these long, drifting, useless rifts. What I'm trying to say here, is that it's more cost-effective.
I need another beer. Quick.
There is a couple, kissing in the bleachers right below the lodge. The girl wraps her legs around her man's waist and they look ready to do it. I've seen it happen before. At Lollapalooza, at the Iron Maiden show. Never at a Coldplay show. But what the fuck do I know? I've never been to one. Maybe people screw all the time, here.
I am trying hard to love this, but the music goes right through me like a gust of wind. Sometimes, it's like I'm not even there. The pyrotechnics at the beginning kept me hooked in (the confetti shower was beautiful), but now I'm just droning through the songs. I've heard most of them at least once before. They are like a very soft, accessible and life-loving spin on The Cure.
The songs of Coldplay make so much more sense live, with twenty-two thousand people singing along. Every one of their goddamn song is a singalong. Maybe that's why the studio versions suck so bad, with Chris Martin yawning his way through songs. PARADISE sounds like a movie-ending, roll-in-the-credits song. Not so bad live, but the last think I want is to listen to the studio version. Josie's happy, she's enjoying this. I don't care about the rest. This song may or may not make me feel this way.
They're doing it now.
Time for another beer.