After watching them blow up the Space Needle here in Seattle, I spent a quiet New Years Eve at home.
Channel surfing through the various network offerings ringing in the New Year — which included a surprisingly hot Kathy Griffin stripping down to her bra and panties in Times Square, with an aghast Anderson Cooper looking on over on CNN; and the Ryan Seacrest/Dick Clark crapfest on ABC — I finally settled on the Coldplay Austin City Limits concert on PBS.
Now, before you go shrieking in horror at the mention of Coldplay, let’s get something straight.
I like Coldplay.
The fact that this brings me considerable grief — both from my friends, and among some of my cohorts at Blogcritics — is really of little circumstance. The fact is, I think Coldplay are a very decent band, that gets nowhere the respect they deserve. That said, I also completely understand the criticism.
“Chick band?” Check.
Chris Martin’s whiny falsetto alone virtually guarantees this charge. In fact, one of the funniest things I have ever heard in my life, was listening to a three hour Tom Leykis radio show driving home from work one night, that was devoted to the sole subject of why any real man would never be caught dead at a Coldplay concert. Even though I had no choice but to agree with Leykis, I also couldn’t help but admit that I’m one of those ball-less guys who actually likes them.
Of course, on the other hand, I can think of few other bands out there plying their trade today, that draw as many beautiful single women to their concerts since the eighties heyday of Journey.
Food for thought, gentlemen?
But let’s get to the crux of the matter, which of course is the music. Tonight’s New Years Eve Austin City Limits concert on PBS was a perfect example of why Coldplay actually is a pretty great band — especially in a live setting.
First off, they’ve recorded some really great songs.
And in A Rush Of Blood To The Head, they also have one certifiably great album. The gorgeous ballad “The Scientist,” and especially “Clocks,” — which features the single catchiest piano-based riff of the past ten years — solidifies Rush Of Blood’s position as one of the best rock albums of the past decade on it’s own. And yes, rock it does.
Honestly, there isn’t a clunker in the bunch. Track for track, it’s a great album. Viva La Vida was also a damn decent record, especially that album’s standout track, “Lost.”
Of course, Coldplay have also made some less than stellar records. But even their lesser albums like X&Y and the current Mylo Xyloto, contain some great songs. On the former, Coldplay’s stab at the grandiosity of Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” on the song “Fix You” particularly stands out, while on the current, largely underwhelming Mylo Xyloto, I still can’t help but be sucked in by the gorgeousness of “Paradise.”
But then there is Coldplay live, and this is where the band truly stands out. One of the things I most enjoyed about the three Coldplay concerts I’ve seen — and particularly the last one I saw on the tail end of the Viva La Vida tour at the Gorge in Eastern Washington — is the way they engage the audience.
Outside of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, I would be hard pressed to name any single rock and roll band today who captures a similarly communal feeling between audience and performer in concert.
The “whoa-ohs” exchanged between the guys onstage, and the folks in the crowd — and did I mention they draw some of the hottest looking girls you’ll find at a rock show anywhere these days? — just really leave you with this warm and fuzzy effect, once you leave the arena. Girls aside, and for you rocker dudes out there, it should also be noted that Will Champion just pounds the living crap out of his drums in concert.
But the other thing that needs to be mentioned here, is the fact that these seem to be genuinely nice guys. Current crop of “The” bands aside (Cage “The” Elephant, Foster “The” People, etc.), the idea of earnest rock bands, particularly at a time when average working people are really hurting, is a really welcome one right now.
From what I can tell, Coldplay is a band that wears their hearts mostly on their collective sleeve. Sure, they would love nothing more than to be U2 — especially since Brian Eno started producing their records.
Mylo Xyloto is not an album that has me rushing to buy tickets to Coldplay’s concert in Seattle this April (much as I like the one song, “Paradise”) either.
But watching them at home alone tonight on PBS beat the pants out of Gaga, Bieber, and the rest of the “New Years Rockin’ Eve” crap over on that other station.
Given the alternatives, Coldplay deserve a break.