The first concert of my life is said to have been in 2005. Coldplay. I was five. In any case, my father recently told me casually, as if it were nothing special. I have no memory myself. I probably slept on his shoulders while Chris Martin sang “Yellow”.
I was really conscious three years later-2008, “Viva La Vida” tour. I was nine years old and about hearing the best setlist that Coldplay ever played live. But then? I fell asleep and missed half. Things that I would have done better in 2008 as a nine -year -old: invest in Bitcoin, buy real estate – and stay awake at Coldplay.
Coldplay was always there. At that time I didn’t know anything about Chris Martin, from stadium tours or melancholic pop with an hymn. But my father knew it. And because my father is a husband with a good taste of music, her albums ran up and down with us. In the car, in the office, in the living room. Like a constant soundtrack of my childhood. My father turned the volume up at “Clocks”, typed onto the steering wheel at “In My Place”, sang wrong with “The Scientist”. For me, these songs were not tracks – they were moods, moments, seasons.
The darn third album
And then came X & y. Published on June 7, 2005, a few days before my sixth birthday. My favorite album until today, even if the band would probably rate it a little differently. Coldplay were in one interesting Situation when they made X & y. The plate was postponed several times and brought a lot of inner unrest between the members. They did not know themselves whether they liked what they did there – an opinion that continues to go through their heads.
Of course I knew the hits as a child – only later as a teenager did I discover the gaps. Songs that do not appear on every playlist, such as “Swallowed in the Sea”, “A Message”, “What if”. And at the very end: “Til Kingdom Come”. A bonus track that actually doesn’t sound like Coldplay because it was originally intended as a collaboration with Johnny Cash. This explains why the song is very country-heavy. For me one of the best songs from Coldplay.
Years later I bought it on vinyl. Great luck, found on Ebay. Until I unpacked it and did not find “Til Kingdom Come” on the back. My favorite song was missing. I was disappointed, but of course I put it on. A listened to the A side, then the B side. And suddenly, after a few seconds of silence: “One, Two …” Chris Martin’s voice counted – and my heart made this little bitter, which it does when something lost.
There are albums that slowly weave into life. Seam around seam. In memories, conversations, family stories. They are more than music, they have become sound. “X & Y” from Coldplay is such an album for me.
The slide into the smooth
Everything that came after “Viva la vida or death and all his friends” I try to displace to this day – because the relationship crisis begins there. Coldplay’s sound became synthetic, the albums more interchangeable, the aesthetics more and more a concept. Confetting rain, bright LED bracelets, a colorfully painted piano. “Mylo Xyloto”, “Ghost Stories”, “A Head Full of Dreams”, “Everyday Life” – I still cannot say exactly which song belongs to which of these albums. Everything suddenly sounded like the background sound for an Apple advertising-a single soft-drawn sound surface. The guitar gave way to synth, the pain of the strategy. I hear “My Universe” and wonder if this is the same band that once wrote “trouble”. Music that previously hurt feels like cotton balls in the Dolby mix.
Then came “Music of the Spheres”. Songs with emojis. Interludes that sound as if you are scrolling with a meditation podcast with closed eyes. Futuristic sound players, where I wonder if someone has even touched instruments with real fingers. Coldplay lost your edge. And with her too.
There are exceptions that run through the newer track lists like narrow silver strips on the band’s discography sky. “Mylo Xyloto” is largely fun and the new album “Moon Music” also gives hope in terms of space. Especially “All My Love” – a song that sounds like he had sneaked back into my youth. But still the bitter aftertaste remains: Coldplay is more art project than band today. It is colorful, loud, digital – and somehow far away from what touched me.
How much nostalgia is too much?
Yes, artists should be allowed to develop. But Coldplay’s development does not feel like growing – but how to go away. They wave to me and say: nice that you were there, but we are now making art for H&M convertible cubes. My favorite band is nicely packed, available everywhere – but somehow empty.
And I don’t know how long I can defend it. Because at some point only the nostalgia remains. I cling to childhood memories, to the back seat in the car of my father, to albums that are as old as I am. The problem with nostalgia is: it is in the past. It warms up, but does not bring a new fire.
Coldplay and I – we are still together, but have actually been separated for a long time. It’s like an unfortunate relationship: you know that it is over, but something keeps you. Maybe the hope that the other will change again. Or the fear that you will never feel like this again.
When I hear in the car Coldplay today, I wonder where we lost and whether it would not gradually be time to finally get out of the car.