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Coldplay’s latest is titled Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends, perhaps the first tip off that the depro chart monsters wanted to bat a different kind of innings. “We had a jam,” says Chris Martin, “so what?” Understatement of the year. Viva la Vida is not a “so what” recording.
It is the kind of thing Rick Rubin or Quincy Jones would sell their youngest for. In other words, it’s a producer’s album, the careful product of countless manipulations with sliders and dials, a home for the sounds of fifty different instruments, a choir and one band that said “so what?”.
But far from being another beat puppet in a Timbaland straitjacket, it’s clear that Coldplay is in full command of their end product. This album was a chance to show that Chris Martin can change pitch, that Will Champion can thump sticks with the best of them, and for Coldplay to finally dismiss lingering suspicions of their mediocrity.
After looting the Iron Maiden lyrics chest for "Cemeteries of London", the lads cleverly sidestep the Coldplay brand again on "Lost!", a clap-along crowd pleaser driven by African drums and Martin's standout rock performance of the album. "42" follows, an admitted homage to "Paranoid Android" and other epic free-formers that examines death through indie-coloured glasses.
Not only have Coldplay broadened their sound, but they've never been better storytellers. The cheap trick of a "life with Gwyneth" confessional is wisely left in the cupboard as they explore a much more interesting host of alternate lives instead. "Viva la Vida" recounts the broken fairy tale of a fallen king with expected melancholy but also flashes bittersweet wit: "For some reason I can't explain / I know St Peter won't call my name". Just don't play it within earshot of George Bush Jnr.: he might break down and cry, or worse, break out in falsetto if the "pride before the fall" analogy is beyond him.
By the time "Death and All His Friends" has delivered its last defiant notes, it is patent how much ground has been traveled. Every perspective has been shared, forbidding us from clumsily labeling Viva la Vida as 'optimistic' or 'cynical'. Rather, we are confronted with our feelings towards a very complete piece of art. Which, for some bands at the top, is all that matters.
See the band's track-by-track guide to the album
- Niel Bekker
It is the kind of thing Rick Rubin or Quincy Jones would sell their youngest for. In other words, it’s a producer’s album, the careful product of countless manipulations with sliders and dials, a home for the sounds of fifty different instruments, a choir and one band that said “so what?”.
But far from being another beat puppet in a Timbaland straitjacket, it’s clear that Coldplay is in full command of their end product. This album was a chance to show that Chris Martin can change pitch, that Will Champion can thump sticks with the best of them, and for Coldplay to finally dismiss lingering suspicions of their mediocrity.
After looting the Iron Maiden lyrics chest for "Cemeteries of London", the lads cleverly sidestep the Coldplay brand again on "Lost!", a clap-along crowd pleaser driven by African drums and Martin's standout rock performance of the album. "42" follows, an admitted homage to "Paranoid Android" and other epic free-formers that examines death through indie-coloured glasses.
Not only have Coldplay broadened their sound, but they've never been better storytellers. The cheap trick of a "life with Gwyneth" confessional is wisely left in the cupboard as they explore a much more interesting host of alternate lives instead. "Viva la Vida" recounts the broken fairy tale of a fallen king with expected melancholy but also flashes bittersweet wit: "For some reason I can't explain / I know St Peter won't call my name". Just don't play it within earshot of George Bush Jnr.: he might break down and cry, or worse, break out in falsetto if the "pride before the fall" analogy is beyond him.
By the time "Death and All His Friends" has delivered its last defiant notes, it is patent how much ground has been traveled. Every perspective has been shared, forbidding us from clumsily labeling Viva la Vida as 'optimistic' or 'cynical'. Rather, we are confronted with our feelings towards a very complete piece of art. Which, for some bands at the top, is all that matters.
See the band's track-by-track guide to the album
- Niel Bekker
