I remember during the glam metal days in the ‘80s when poodle-haired bands were copying Van Halen and Aerosmith: Guitarists were soullessly doing tapping and dive-bombs on overdriven guitars a la Eddie Van Halen, and singers were aping the drugged drag king antics and outfits of Steven Tyler. Glam gremlins ruled radio and MTV, so one had no choice but to turn to something different: the transcendent pop of U2’s "The Joshua Tree, the sadomasochistic curio of Jane’s Addiction’s "Nothing’s Shocking," the off-kilter music of Fishbone, Living Colour, Bad Brains, Faith No More, hardcore, jazz, ska, or whatever – as long as it’s not third generation Eruption and Dream On, with videos featuring busty B-movie babes.
The guys of Coldplay – vocalist Chris Martin, guitarist Jonny Buckland, bassist Guy Berryman, and drummer Will Champion – have set the template for the new brand of Brit pop: characterized by yearning vocals, coruscating pianos, delay-drenched guitars and a solid, no-frills rhythm section – think Jeff Buckley fronting Echo and the Bunneymen.
"Parachutes" (released in 2000) sort of set the template with lovelorn songs such as Yellow and Trouble, the big hits. The album is moping, melodic, moody, melancholy and unfussy. It was an oasis in the desert of comic-book rocker rebellion typified by bands such as Limp Bizkit (admit it, you were a Fred Durst believer at that time) and over-processed pop slush. But lots of critics deemed "Parachutes" as a watered-down version of Radiohead’s "The Bends." Fran Healy instead of Albert Camus. Thom Yorke deemed Coldplay tunes as "lifestyle music."Espresso for the ears, in other words.
"A Rush of Blood to the Head" (released in 2002) was the breakthrough. Chris Martin and company went beyond being sunshine supermen, and instead created dark, dense and screwed-up songs like Politik, Amsterdam and the title track. The weepy ballads – The Scientist, In My Place, and God Put A Smile Upon Your Face – became more intricate and intriguing. It is comparable to the albums U2 put out when the band started mining American music ("The Joshua Tree," "Rattle and Hum") after years of playing intense Euro rock. And then it happened: The Coldplay sound became as unique as Dolly the Sheep. Even moms and Hollywood actresses started digging the band.
Imagine the pressure of following up a gargantuan platter like "A Rush of Blood to the Head." Coldplay’s debut album took six weeks to record (although a lifetime of inspiration to conceive). The follow-up took longer – six months. Although when I interviewed Jonny Buckland in Bangkok two years ago, he said recording "Parachutes" was more pressure-packed since "you get to record your first album only once." But he added that they didn’t want to repeat themselves on the second album.
"In ‘Parachutes,’ we tried to keep things simple. We more or less had just one guitar part for each song. In ‘A Rush of Blood,’ we used more strings, keyboards and effects. We made it ‘bigger-sounding’ because we wanted to do something totally different," said the taciturn Buckland, who turned out to be a really nice chap. (A true story: The guitarist was interviewed by at least 30 journalists that day, but managed to recognize me loitering at the lobby of the Dusit Thani Hotel teeming with label suits, fans and assorted hangers-on.)
"X and Y," the third album is the band’s stab at greatness, at "taking out the mighty U2" and leaving their clones to eat dust soufflé. I think the band decided to get the best parts of both albums (the dreamy pop of "Parachutes" and the sense-surround rock of "A Rush of Blood") to create a more solid, more intricate, more rewarding hybrid.
It reportedly took Martin, Buckland, Berryman and Champion 18 stressful, nerve-frying months of recording. Q magazine – one of the music mags that matters, although rarely spotted in Manila bookstores, unsurprisingly – ranks it with magnum opuses like REM’s "Automatic for the People" (yes), "The Joshua Tree" (maybe), and Radiohead’s "OK Computer" (hell, no!).
After a couple of problematic starts (just like Oasis – a band much admired by Martin – with "Don’t Believe The Truth") in New York in early 2004, Coldplay managed to record tracks that go from "Parachutes" to "A Rush of Blood," from brooding tomes to ballsy karaoke, from ambient strings to cosmic church organs, from beauty to mortality, from point X to point Y, from being clone cut-outs to untouchable templates. "A tension of opposites," as Martin calls it.
The band’s aim, Martin told Q, was to write the best tunes and take out the "Drago" that is U2. (Factoid of the day: Drago is Rocky’s Russian opponent in Rocky IV). I have my reservations on the "Coldplay as Sylvester Stallone destroying U2 as Dolph Lundgren" bit since Bono and company recently proved that they’re far from being irrelevant rockers with "How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb," reviewed horrendously by a "music columnist" who doesn’t have an iota of a clue as to the albums she’s reviewing. (It’s not all about wordplay, dear, or reading the title of the album; it helps to listen to the CD – immensely! Try it.)
It doesn’t help Coldplay’s claim that some of the cuts on "X & Y" sound like updated versions of U2’s New Year’s Day or Gloria. Take the case of opening track Square One, with its ringing, multi-layered, angular guitars (with the blues completely squeezed out), the droning bass, the thick bed of synthesizers, and the "whoa-whoa" vocals – although, I love the volume swells and the Pink Floydian "Is there anybody out there?" bridge. The same with the delightfully offbeat White Shadows with the brilliant line, "Do you ever feel like there’s something missing?" which reminds me of Nick Drake’s "Do you feel like a remnant of something that is past?" from Hazy Jane II.
Things get better with What If, the flipside of John Lennon’s Imagine where instead of dreamers living in a dreamworld (without greed, hunger or religion), Martin poses questions that deal with doubt and insecurity (sample: "What if you should decide/That you don’t want me there by your side?"). The piano motif evokes Elton’s Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word. The chorus, though, is vintage Coldplay – lilting, lulling, giving listeners the urge to work those lungs out and sing, "Ooh, that’s right Let’s take a break, try to put it aside…" The outtro, with a clutch of swelling strings, is straight out of The Beatles’ A Day In The Life.
Fix You, easily the best track in the album, was designed for grand sing-alongs by lonely hearts. I love the arrangement: recurring guitars (a whole caboodle of guitar tracks) and workhorse drums building up to Martin’s passionate falsetto in "Tears stream down on your face/When you lose something you cannot replace." It ends with sustained church organ notes that make the lyrics sound like an epiphany (the religious kind, not the Joycean variant). Brilliantly done.
Talk is reportedly a rehashing of Kraftwerk’s Computer Love. The title track boasts a beautiful sliding guitar riff. The bouncy first single Speed of Sound is about "a miracle." Here, Chris sings. "All those signs I knew what they meant/Some things you can’t invent/Some get made, and some get sent…" Maybe, he’s talking about great Coldplay songs, as opposed to Everybody’s Changing.
A Message, with verses framed by acoustic guitars, is one of the simplest tracks in the album. Of course, the message is "love" or "love unknown," what else? (If the band were Limp Bizkit, it would be "nookie" or other needless warbling.)
Low, according to Q, was birthed in a San Diego hotel lobby piano. It is the song that Martin considers the missing component of "X & Y." The Hardest Part is "sunny," not at all out of place in "X & Y," considering the latest Coldplay album is a monument to contrasts. The album ends with the ballad reportedly written for Johnny Cash called Til Kingdom Come. Stripped down and all, Coldplay still sounds three-dimensional. Love and loss in stereo.
The verdict: I don’t think Coldplay was able to chop the mighty Joshua Tree down with its third album. But the band has proven that it doesn’t need to slay goliaths or break new ground. Pretty, poignant, monolithic music is all it takes to move the world. Yes, faster than the speed of sound.