Editor Mary is in Toronto for CMW 2016 this week.
Ongoing coverage of the event will be on our Twitter and on the site this way.
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By this point, if you don’t know what to expect from Coldplay, then you’re just never going to get it. Coldplay are the kind of band who, successful on a gigantic scale they may be, have managed to survive on a mixture of melancholy and melody in its, for a better word, tamest form. Sure, big hitters such as ‘Yellow’ or ‘Fix You’ tug at even the toughest of heart strings but at the end of the day, there’s no offence. Why should there be? It’s Coldplay. The closest we got to any kind of development formed around the era of ‘Viva La Vida…’ and ‘Mylo Xyloto’, where things headed north on the epic scale and introduced electronic components to the current formula.
Now, an album or so after the aforementioned priors, we have ‘A Head Full of Dreams’, the potential finale if we were to begin to take the media speculation around Chris Martin’s comparison between this and the last Harry Potter book seriously. ‘A Head Full of Dreams’ certainly could be seen as a swan song of sorts, almost a celebration, a celebration of everything Coldplay brought to us when they first formed in 1996 and what they still continue to bestow upon the world.
There are certainly even more developments: the first that comes to mind is ‘Hymn for the Weekend’, its content not similar to that of any previous Coldplay song that jumps out. “I’m feeling drunk and high, so high, so high”, it very well may be about love in its deepest layers, but the prominent synonyms certainly are that of the weekend partiers, and, when coupled with enough Beyonce to not take over the song but to be worthy of a feature credit, it’s a surefire hit, yes. But one thing it isn’t is Coldplay.
There are other moments that follow this pattern: for example, ‘Adventure of a Lifetime’, a track that could quite easily be a summer dance anthem, were we not in the midst of winter. It begins with a tumbling guitar introduction that automatically gets firmly lodged in your head, which along with backing vocals by Merry ‘Gimme Shelter’ Clayton and a thumping dance beat, makes it infectious, happy and also definitely not Coldplay.
The winning formula of the early days makes an appearance with ‘Everglow’, a piano-led slow cut that focuses upon what they do best: raw, unbridled emotion. Backed by a slow, pattering drum beat and swirling guitars, it’s Coldplay at their best, and you can’t help but fall a little bit more in love with them, no matter how much you try not to.
It would be unjust to not mention ‘Kaleidoscope’, which is a track that strangely enough doesn’t feature Chris Martin, or any of Coldplay in fact. It does, however, feature poet Coleman Barks reading a Rumi poem and none other than President Obama. As little as his inclusion is, it’s a powerful message in a powerfully charged song. Some may see it as a publicity stunt, but it’s tasteful and minimal.
If this were to be, as previously mentioned, the final Coldplay album, then it’s perfect. Last track ‘Up&Up’ is epic, has a backing chorus featuring both previously mentioned Beyonce and Merry Clayton, as well as help from Noel Gallagher on guitar. The album has everything, including further experimentation, which may not be entirely be a strength, but why would you want to wave the world off with the exact same components? That’s what the greatest hits are for, right?
‘A Head Full of Dreams’ is out now via Parlophone and streaming on Tidal. It’s purported to be coming to other streaming services soon. For past coverage of Coldplay on TGTF, go here.
Ed Sheeran has been named as the most streamed artist worldwide in 2014, with his album ‘X’ being streamed over 430 million times since it was released in June.
Music streaming service Spotify revealed that the singer/songwriter beat the likes of Eminem and Coldplay to the top spot, based on data collected from over 50 million users across the world. Calvin Harris and Katy Perry make up the remainder of the top five. Speaking about his achievement, Sheeran said, “It’s a great thing to be above so many amazing artists who I’d assume would be streamed more than me.”
However, despite his successes in the streaming charts, Ed Sheeran failed to make the top five tracks globally. Singer/songwriter, rapper and producer Pharrell Williams took the top spot with ‘Happy (from Despicable Me 2)’, which beat off competition from Clean Bandit‘s ‘Rather Be (ft. Jess Glynne)’ and Calvin Harris’s ‘Summer’. Katy Perry’s ‘Dark Horse’ and John Legend‘s ‘All of Me’ complete the top five.
Steve Savoca, head of content at Spotify, said: “This has been a phenomenal year for a rich variety of amazing artists on Spotify. Over 50 million dedicated music fans listened to more than 7 billion listening hours in 2014 alone.” He added: “Huge congratulations to Ed Sheeran on achieving most-streamed album on Spotify for the wildly successful ‘X’, and also for earning the overall most streamed artist of 2014 thanks to his dedicated fans on Spotify.”
Ed Sheeran’s success in the streaming chart is largely down to timing. His album X, which is available on Spotify, was released a couple of weeks before he took to the Pyramid stage at Glastonbury 2014. In the same month, it was announced that the Official Charts Company would be counting audio streams within their chart data. Following his performance on “The X Factor” on Sunday, October 26th, 2014, the singer’s third single ‘Thinking Out Loud’ was streamed over 1,638,000 times in a week. Not bad, eh?
However, not all artists have been as supportive of music streaming services. Quite famously, Taylor Swift made the move to withdraw all of her music from Spotify at the start of November 2014, as she believes artists don’t receive enough money from the service. Other famous artists who are missing from such services include AC/DC and The Beatles.
The streaming results, which includes artists we’ve written a lot on TGTF about including Coldplay, Glass Animals and Hozier, in full:
Top five global artists
1. Ed Sheeran
4. Calvin Harris
5. Katy Perry
Top five global males
1. Ed Sheeran
3. Calvin Harris
5. David Guetta
Top five global females
1. Katy Perry
2. Ariana Grande
3. Lana Del Rey
Top five global groups
2. Imagine Dragons
3. Maroon 5
5. One Direction
Top five global tracks
1. Happy (from Despicable Me 2) – Pharrell Williams
2. Rather Be (feat. Jess Glynne) – Clean Bandit
3. Summer – Calvin Harris
4. Dark Horse – Katy Perry
5. All of Me – John Legend
Top five global albums
1. X – Ed Sheeran
2. In the Lonely Hour – Sam Smith
3. The New Classic – Iggy Azalea
4. G I R L – Pharrell Williams
5. My Everything – Ariana Grande
Top five global viral tracks
1. Take Me to Church – Hozier
2. Gooey – Glass Animals
3. Ojos Color Sol – Calle 13
4. Coffee – Sylvan Esso
5. Hey Mami – Sylvan Esso
Most streamed artists in UK
1. Ed Sheeran
2. Arctic Monkeys
4. Sam Smith
Most streamed tracks in UK
1. Rather Be (feat. Jess Glynne) – Clean Bandit
2. Happy – Pharrell Williams
3. Waves (Robin Schulz Radio Edit) – M Probz
4. All of Me – John Legend
5. Stay With Me – Sam Smith
Most streamed albums in UK
1. X – Ed Sheeran
2. In the Lonely Hour – Sam Smith
3. Wanted On Voyage – George Ezra
4. The New Classic – Iggy Azalea
5. G I R L – Pharrell Williams
Top viral tracks in UK
1. Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen) – Baz Luhrmann
2. Gooey – Glass Animals
3. Everyone Is Gay – A Great Big World
4. Take Me To Church – Hozier
5. Far From Any Road – The Handsome Family
By Mary Chang
on Saturday, 30th August 2014 at 10:00 am
For their new single ‘True Love’ off their latest album released in the spring, ‘Ghost Stories’, Coldplay take a new slant on the story of The Ugly Duckling. It also gives the opportunity for Chris Martin (not to mention his female costar) play around with oversized fat suits. (And I can’t be the only one to think this is Martin poking at his consciously uncoupled former partner Gwyneth Paltrow’s film Shallow Hal, right?) I think their hearts were in the right place making this promo, but for some reason, it comes across as disingenuous. Watch the video below.
By Mary Chang
on Wednesday, 25th June 2014 at 6:00 pm
Come now, admit it. You’d be thrilled if your favourite band showed up entirely unannounced to film a music video in your hometown, yeah?
This is exactly what happened to unsuspecting fans when stadium rock behemoths Coldplay made the fateful decision to use the bohemian Sydney, Australia neighbourhood of Newtown as the backdrop for their video ‘A Sky Full of Stars’. Further, even if you don’t rate the band, just watching Chris Martin walking around town like he’s a one-man band busker is pretty funny. But I’m mostly posting this because I’m selfish and I miss my friends in Sydney terribly, and I spent a lovely day visiting friends in Newtown on my trip there 2 years ago. Watch the video below.
All previous posts on TGTF on Coldplay can be accessed here, including a comprehensive band retrospective our Martin wrote last month on the occasion of the release of their latest album ‘Ghost Stories’.
2002: a curious time of innocence, and simultaneous loss of innocence. Momentous events occurred, their true consequences hidden in the folded future. The world was still struggling to accept 9/11. Parts of Europe embarked with blind optimism on their slow journey towards economic self-destruction by adopting the Euro. The country celebrated the Queen’s Golden Jubilee – 3 days later her sister died, and 3 months later, so did her mother. Coldplay released ‘A Rush of Blood to the Head’ – and while touring the album, Chris Martin would meet his future wife Gwyneth Paltrow. Momentous events all, but arguably only one has had a lasting effect on the popular music catalogue. And now that the Martin-Paltrow marriage has come to the end of its natural life, only one that has a break-up soundtrack all of its own.
Coldplay’s 2000 début ‘Parachutes’, is a modest, wimpy emulation of Nineties guitar-band tropes: gently-strummed acoustic guitars, some elementary guitar effects, clichéd and blissed-out lyrics (“We live in a beautiful world”, etc). But that world needed an album like it – inoffensive music that couples can agree they both can tolerate, with an irrepressibly optimistic worldview to boot. The rock ‘n’ roll operating envelope has at one end sweary, noisy, atonal punk – and for there to be a spectrum, something needs to occupy the other end. Step forward Coldplay.
The production on ‘Parachutes’ is shockingly bad, though: thoroughly over-compressed and lacking in the quirky ambition of something like Athlete’s ‘Vehicles And Animals’. The snare sound on their first mega-hit ‘Yellow’ is embarrassingly bad, a cross between a ping-pong ball being shaken in a jar and a side of ham slapped with a slipper. Chris Martin’s voice is either merely inoffensive or deeply irritating, depending on one’s tolerance for fey white boys moping about existential nonsense. Most of the time he could be mistaken for the sound of a goat stuck down a well. However, ‘Parachutes’ is a half-decent stab at a band attempting that most futile but well-worn endeavour: to recreate Radiohead’s ‘The Bends’ for the mainstream. Many would attempt it – Athlete, Starsailor, Snow Patrol – and many would fail.
2002’s ‘A Rush of Blood to The Head’ is a much more mature piece of work. Everything is more grown-up: most of the tracks are over 5 minutes long; the opening track ‘Politik’ hints as to what’s to come: a far more adventurous arrangement than ever before, a tetchily cynical lyric from Martin, but still retaining the copyrighted Coldplay melodicity and optimistic overtures. That pesky snare drum makes an appearance once again in ‘In My Place’, although this time it sounds like someone popping an empty bag of crisps, with a nasty resonant ring for good measure. Despite this disability, the track reached #2 in the UK, and perhaps characterises the band’s approach to the whole album: an attempt to, if not completely rewrite the melodic rock rulebook, then at least dress it up in a fresh suit and introduce it to a new millenium.
‘God Put a Smile Upon Your Face’ has a nice chromatic chord sequence played on a grubby old acoustic guitar, ‘The Scientist’ is the ubiquitous piano ballad, soppy as ever, buy hey – something’s got to get those lighters in the air. ‘Clocks’ is an interesting one: there’s loads of keyboards, a big, uplifting piano crescendo, and almost completely meaningless lyrics. A sign of things to come, perhaps. The album concludes with a pair of tracks that are amongst Coldplay’s finest work. The title track puts their undoubted ability to deliver a decent crescendo into good use: with talk of firearms and arson, this is Coldplay taking on big themes, and mostly succeeding. ‘Amsterdam’ is similarly morose, the sour to the preceding overload of saccharine optimism. Talk of being “tied to the noose” is uncharacteristically downbeat – and it really suits them.
‘X&Y’ is essentially more of the same: ‘A Rush Of Blood…’, mark two. Despite the nods to orchestration and electronica, it’s still essentially the sound of a guitar band with enormous ideas. With hindsight the entirety sounds a little one-note, but there are standouts – ‘White Shadows’, ‘Talk’, ‘Speed Of Sound’, which confirm their ability to write a stadium-sized tune hadn’t been lost. And then came the inevitable – the concept album. ‘Viva La Vida’ was produced by Brian Eno, and he helped immensely to take Coldplay’s lofty ideas and craft them into something reasonably coherent and credible. The topics are ambitious, and, surprisingly enough, the music actually does them justice. Pertinently, the title track uses a four-to-the-floor synthesised bass drum, but doesn’t fall lazily into dance music tropes. Perhaps Coldplay’s most left-field single, the song tells the story of a deposed monarch mourning his own poor judgement that engineered such a fall from grace. A masterclass in concept songwriting that few could match.
Most importantly, despite the baubles, the album sounds like the work of one band playing real instruments – noisy guitars are still frequently front-and-centre, but even when they’re not, the orchestration sounds familiar, all of a piece. ‘42’ deserves a mention as a three-movement work that manages to glue together string-laden balladry, noisy, almost math-rock riffing, and the inevitable uplifting crescendo. A notable highlight in an already strong album. ‘Viva La Vida’ showcases a band merging populism, concept and the avant-garde – and succeeding. Coldplay’s masterpiece.
It’s in ‘Mylo Xyloto’ that the etiolated shoots of today’s folly were first to be heard. ‘Every Teardrop is a Waterfall’ again uses a dance-inspired kick drum, lead synth stabs, and, mystifyingly, an electric guitar which sounds suspiciously like a set of bagpipes. The lyrics are embarrassing and subtly patronising like a leery uncle at a disco, and none of it holds the credibility of their preceding work. Ri-”autotune”-hanna pops up briefly and rather pointlessly. With lukewarm reviews and their worst sales to date, was this the sound of a band losing their way? What the album couldn’t convey, of course, was the power of the Coldplay live show, the potency of which is in no doubt. The combination of audience-participation wristbands, button-pushingly emotive material, and Chris Martin’s enthusiastic gyrations means very few people felt short-changed from 2011-2012’s worldwide jaunt, including that most prestigious of things – the Glastonbury headline slot. Questions of musical direction aside, in 2012 Coldplay were, and possibly still are, the most effective stadium-rock band in the world. There’s even a feature film of the whole affair, if proof were needed.
It is, then, with a heavy heart that we must turn to ‘Ghost Stories’. Be warned – every song is about losing Gwyneth. Every single one. The first line is “I think of you”, repeated ad nauseum in a number of different pitches and melodies, including that increasingly insufferable falsetto that he’s so keen on. Here’s a representative sample of lyrics – see if you can spot a pattern:
“I don’t want anybody else but you”
“All I know is I love you so much it hurts”
“One last time tell me you love me”
Give us a break. At least throw in a topic or two to change the mood, to get the bile going: perhaps something about tetanus, or Nick Clegg. But no, the whole thing is hewn from the most simpering of sentiment. There’s even a song called ‘True Love’, for fuck’s sake. Interestingly, the album’s only moment that isn’t cloyingly saccharine is the guitar solo in said track, when Jonny Buckland, in a rare moment of disobedience, briefly bends a note out of tune – an act of rebellion that hints at some power struggle going on underneath the surface. But, as quickly as it appears, it’s gone, and the usual bland normality is resumed. In a way it reminds the listener that this isn’t just one man’s folly, it’s four men’s. Five, if you count the otherwise credible Paul Epworth at the desk. Any one of them could have reigned in their depressive singer’s whines, it’s just that they didn’t have the guts, the self-perceived status, to do so. Cowards.
Rather than listening to the album straight, it’s much more fun to look up the track names in advance, and predict which moth-eaten lyrical cliché Martin is going to wheel out next. ‘Oceans’ is a good one for this – think distance, water, loneliness, and you’re on the right track. It really is music by numbers. Who, frankly, cares enough about Martin’s state of mind to wade through this tripe even once? There are far more important things on which to spend one’s time. On this evidence, if Martin is this much of a drip, then Gwyneth made the right call.
One is entitled to feel upset when one’s wife leaves. Such sorrow can be expressed in many different ways: some would choose to drown their sorrows in several tumblers of malt whisky, others in ill-advised trips to age-inappropriate nightclubs, yet more by riding a motorcycle at reckless speed. The obvious choice for catharsis if one is a musician is: make some music. But nowhere is it written that that music should be so obvious, so much of a collection of embarrassing pleas for things to back to the way they were, for the woman to overlook all the flaws and irritants that made her leave in the first place, and to come back just because you wrote a nice little tune about her.
And then we get to the utter dross, the audible sewage, the musical runt that is ‘Sky Full of Stars’. If anyone was wondering if there was any way to really take a Coldplay album into the next league of terrifying banality, the answer has arrived: call in Avicii. The DJ equivalent of Matalan works his ‘magic’ by bringing in some recycled big disco beats and house synth stabs, converting what was already some pungent fromage into a whole over-ripe brie that’s been left in the sun for a week. Someone please take it away and dispose of it carefully. Every single crap house cliché is in there – predictable build-ups, tappy little percussion bits, filters, echoing vocal lines – you can almost hear the lasers. ‘Sky Full of Stars’ is the sound of Coldplay eating themselves, diving headlong into inadvertent self-parody, declaring, as has long been suspected but is at last confirmed, that they have completely abandoned any notion of musical integrity, and are in it for the cheap dollar. Why else would they prostitute themselves, prone on the altar of excruciating Euro-house, essentially simply pretending to be a band, as some young chap from Stockholm does all the hard work for them?
It all could have been so different. The Gwyneth break-up should have been a time of pause and contemplation for Martin, including a period of calm re-evaluation of his past work, of identifying where he’s gone right and where he’s gone wrong in his musical career to date. Perhaps going back to first principles with his band, working as a simple four-piece with basic instrumentation and respect for the song as their guiding ethos. People may have been pleased – impressed, even, to see a revived Coldplay shorn of theatricality, doing what they do best: catchy, mainstream rock tunes. Instead, we have this overblown load of old cobblers – the audible equivalent of a tear-stained handkerchief. An album that makes you cry – for all the wrong reasons.
‘Ghost Stories’, Coldplay’s sixth album, is out now on Parlophone.
An overused analogy to describe Coldplay is that they are akin to marmite: you either love or you hate them. I think this analogy has merit, but doesn’t go far enough. People either adore Chris Martin’s showmanship and Coldplay’s music, or are utterly revolted by his wannabe-Bonoisms and the music that Martin, Guy Berryman, Jonny Buckland and Will Champion produce. So if you’re one of those people who at the uttering of the word ‘Yellow’ come out into feverish sweats and are overcome with that uncontrollable Hulk smash-kind of rage, now is the time to click the little x in the top right corner of the page. [Editor’s note: and that kind of person would be me, which is why I kindly asked John to take this album.]
Nearly a fortnight ago, Coldplay released their ‘Coldplay Live 2012’ album, which was recorded live at Paris’s Stade de France, Montreal’s Bell Centre and the band’s triumphant Pyramid Stage headline performance at Glastonbury last year. Now, I’ve had the pleasure of watching this band perform in the live arena just once before. At Glasto 2011, where Chris Martin et al. did what they do best and blew U2 out of the water on the Saturday night. Ok, so Beyoncé stole the headlines, but any fan of guitar-based rock ‘n’ roll and stadium rock knew there was only one victor in the battle of the headliners.
From the opening bars of the unpronounceable set opener ‘Mylo Xyloto’, it’s apparent that what the audience and listener on this album are in for is something of spectacle focusing on the true grandeur of the band. Such was the brilliance of their newest record that playing 50% of the set from the record was not a problem. Songs like ‘Paradise’ and ‘Hurts Like Heaven’ are played with the musical panache of a track that the band could have been running-out for the past decade. It’s almost apparent that this album has been more of a success to the band than ‘Viva La Vida’ was.
The quality of every air-grabbing number is as high as one after the other is fired at you. Even the intervention of the thoroughly warbly Rihanna [who seems to be on a bit of a decline at the moment) can’t ruin an almost flawless set. Chris Martin marshals the crowd with his over-set nervous persona, while the three other members prove their multi-instrumental skills throughout.
This isn’t Martin’s roadshow and co., it’s a slick, well-oiled unit. This is a band at the peaks of their career and who are already on their way to writing their way into musical folklore. The set goes on with singalong hit followed by another singalong.
But you have to wait until the 14th song for the pinnacle moment. The song which never fails to send a shiver up my spine. ‘Fix You’ sends the audience, and me included into a singalong rapture. (And remember, I’m listening in my small flatshare in Lincoln). Coldplay have triumphed again and while the haters, will of course continue to hate Martin and co. I for one am just happy that their live music can once again accompany my journeys to work in my car.
A triumphant live album, from a terrific live outfit.
Coldplay’s new live album with DVD, the all too obviously titled ‘Coldplay Live 2012’, is out now on EMI. Experience a taster in the form of ‘Paradise’, performed in Paris and featured on the CD, in this previous Live Gig Video post.