The first time I heard Coldplay was when I was at a party and a sappy love song called “Yellow” oozed through the speakers. I had recently begun my disdain for any music sandwiched between commercials and annoying disk jockeys. Sure enough, after “Yellow” finished that evening, I heard the catastrophic DJ babbling on about nonsense that had nothing to do with the song. Although I didn’t want to, I had to ask who the artist was. “Coldplay,” someone said.
I wanted to hate it. What the hell was this dude talking about? “It was all yellow”? Does that even make sense? And where did he get off stealing Thom Yorke’s falsetto? I wanted to hate it, but I couldn’t. There was something endearing about the song. It was childish, but heartfelt, bitter and sweet. I went out soon after that party and purchased Coldplay’s debut album, Parachutes.
In the years since my first Coldplay experience, my view of the band changed. They gave me plenty of songs to hate (see the whole of 2004's X and Y) and even more so, the band became so big that my inner music snob—as a rule—wanted me to despise anything that sounded like Coldplay that wasn't Radiohead. When the rumors started flowing about a new Coldplay album in 2008, I figured I wouldn’t care.
Enter Brian Eno.
Eno/Coldplay for a music snob is like a glass of expensive French wine in a sea of cheap merlot for a wine connoisseur. Surprisingly, the rumors of Eno’s input proved true. Brian Eno was producing one of the biggest bands in the world. And I, along with half the music world, was forced to be intrigued. On Viva La Vida or Death and All His Friends, thanks to Mr. Eno, there is a new Coldplay.
OK, maybe that is an exaggeration. There is no transformation. Keeping its fanbase of high school- and college-age hopeless romantics would not allow for that. However, it is certainly, and thankfully, no X and Y. The songwriting is stronger and more determined, as if the band has something to prove to us and themselves.
The album flows sweetly as a whole and not just a shitload of singles (though there will most likely be a shitload of singles). The tracks have evidence of Eno. Singer Chris Martin concentrates less on piano-driven ballads and more on Eno’s “sonic landscapes” that fill around the band.
There are numerous highlights. “42” is a prime example of the band’s growth. It begins as a classic Coldplay tune with Martin crooning over a soft piano line, but the song folds in as guitars enter and change the song from a ballad to rocker with quick vocals. Soon, though, the song returns to the piano. This song may be the most apparent of Eno’s touch.
“Yes” is another track that breaks into parts and helps the new Coldplay tiptoe a more progressive sound. The track opens with strings and transforms, with a ticking beat and a Middle Eastern-inspired string line, before a wide-eyed chorus of, “If you’d, if you’d only say yes,” breaks out in typical Coldplay fashion. There are certainly reminders of who the band is.
The biggest reminder is the inevitability that these songs will be stuck between yapping DJs and irritating commercials. Commercial radio sometimes does get lucky. In 2008, Eno/Coldplay will have the radio kids listening to some decent stuff.
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