Coldplay - The Bearable Lightness of Pop

The video for "Yellow" is perhaps the best witness to sum up Coldplay's poetics. Shot in a single continuous take, it shows nothing more than Chris Martin singing the song as he walks along a beach. Around him, a striking effect shows night (at the start of the video) giving way to dawn (by the end). In those first glimmers of daybreak it's easy to find the essence of Coldplay's art, the one made "of the small things that can make a day, if not an entire life, unforgettable".

Then again, Coldplay's story is one of the simplest around, the quintessential tale of a band that made it from nothing: in 1996, during freshers' week at University College London, the then seventeen-year-old Chris Martin - born in London but raised in Mold, north Wales - met the shy Jon Buckland. Between one joke and another, a shared passion emerged: both had loved music since their earliest years. Chris Martin had formed his first band at just eleven years old, by which time he was already listening to towering songwriters such as Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Leonard Cohen, Nick Drake, Tom Waits, Flaming Lips. They began dreaming up a possible band to form, which effectively started to take shape once Guy Berryman joined the group.

The sources of inspiration are well known: the Beatles and Radiohead above all (Martin would repeatedly state that listening to Radiohead's "The Bends" had a profound influence on his way of understanding music, as well as on the core idea of the art he would soon want to make).

The sound, still to be shaped at that point, was already veering toward the melodic intimacy that would define Coldplay's debut album. The project was more or less complete, but one crucial piece was missing: a drummer. Young multi-instrumentalist Will Champion threw himself straight into the sound awaiting him, taking roughly three months to establish himself as the band's permanent drummer.

It seems the name Coldplay was "poached" from a mutual friend, before he himself could use it for the band he was putting together. Chris Martin and co. had performed under the names Pectoralz and Starfish, even playing a few gigs, the most important of which was at the Laurel Tree in Camden, the London neighbourhood famous for being where so many talented young British musicians took their first steps. Thus Coldplay was born.

Chris, the singer, occasionally also handles piano duties, Jon plays bass, Guy guitar, Will drums. Four young men, each born in a different English city, each enrolled on a different course of study. And London's University College served as the formative epicentre of a story destined to bring them fame and glory.

Coldplay's very first recordings date back to April 1998, cut at Sync City Studio in London with producer Nikki Rosetti. At the end of those sessions, 500 copies of "Safety" were pressed, most of which ended up in the hands of journalists, radio stations and friends. The EP contains three songs that already define the band's style: the rock side on "Bigger Stronger", a ballad somewhere between Jeff Buckley and Radiohead; the light, dreamy psychedelia of "No More Keeping My Feet On The Ground", which recalls the unmatched Verve of "A Storm In Heaven"; and the acoustic side on the moving "Such A Rush", which immediately showcases Chris Martin's remarkable vocal talent.

Thanks to the EP, Coldplay start to make a name for themselves. They play at a major festival in the city, where they're spotted by Fierce Panda boss Simon Williams, who asks them to release a single on his label. "Brothers & Sisters" is recorded with producer Mike Beaver in February 1999 at Station Studios in London. The second EP again features three songs — "Brothers & Sisters", "Easy To Please" and "Only Superstition" — mature enough to convince Parlophone to sign the quartet. And so Coldplay find themselves holed up at Orinoco Studios, again in London, with Chris Allison to work on new material: the pressure must have been mounting, since the band, to buy some time, put together a third release (their first on a major) by digging up some tracks from the previous EPs.

According to many, "The Blue Room" is Coldplay's masterpiece, not only because it revisits "Bigger Stronger" and "Such A Rush", two of the finest songs the London band ever wrote, but above all for the incredible atmosphere that runs through the whole EP: the opener "Don't Panic" is so evocative that it would later resurface on Parachutes (in a different version); "See You Soon" reveals for the first time the bare beauty of Chris Martin's voice, which, backed only by an acoustic guitar, could move you reading the phone book, let alone singing his own lyrics.

Before the year is out, Coldplay arrive in Liverpool, where at Parr Street Studios they meet producer Ken Nelson for the first time — already known for his work with Gomez and, above all, with Ian McCulloch's Electrafixion. With Nelson's help, and under pressure from Parlophone, they record their debut album, Parachutes, in just two months, along with some tracks that would later appear on singles released both before and after the album, which hit shops on 10 July 2000.

The first of these singles, "Shiver", contains two songs that wouldn't make the album: "For You" and "Careful Where You Stand". But it's the following single, "Yellow", that introduces Coldplay's name to half the world, reaching number one in Britain and charting in America too; "Yellow" is the song that crowns Coldplay as the year's best emerging band: its hook is irresistible, its lyrics beautifully romantic, its video simple yet brilliant. The single also features the previously unreleased "Help Is Round The Corner".

A few days after the single, the album is released in Britain, reaching number one on the charts that very summer. The gorgeous hypnotic pull of "Yellow", the contagious burst of "Shiver" and the melodic freshness of "Trouble" turn Parachutes into the nation's talking point of the year. "Don't Panic" also becomes a single, while the album climbs into the upper reaches of the charts across half the world.

Parachutes (2000) moves at an almost consistently lean pace (unlike the band's later albums). Whenever possible, Coldplay play a game of subtraction, crafting melodies that are often as simple as they are direct and effective, built from just a few but decisive ingredients, yet managing to produce a tracklist with virtually no weak spots. What makes the difference, besides the flawless interplay of young musicians who already seem to know each other by heart, is Chris Martin's voice, equally at home with the aching notes of "Trouble" as with the sunnier, more open-hearted tones that would come to the fore especially from A Rush Of Blood To The Head onward. Not to mention his famous falsetto, nicely restrained here. The echoes and reverbs of the guitars merge with Chris's voice in settings that are at times acoustic, almost always resting on lyrics as simple as they are sad.

What prevails are soft tones, relaxed (yet never flabby) harmonies that, from the rhythmic exercise of "Don't Panic" onward, conjure up bare, silent landscapes, propelled by Martin's vocals, now pained ("Spies"), now bright ("Sparks"). Even the bursts of acceleration, deployed with skillful restraint on more measured, steady tracks ("Shiver"), are nothing more than brief interludes, with understated guitars that light up the underlying shadow only for an instant. But what stands out most is the fact that there isn't a single superfluous chord on Parachutes, that every note displays an unexpected maturity, as in the gentle elegance of "We Never Change".

Suffering, a lack of anything to hold on to, tears over missed chances, but with just a glimmer of hope peeking through to make it all something other than a depressive crisis. If anything, the opposite: Parachutes seems almost designed to be steeped in just the kind of sadness needed to get past low moods, the classic last rain before a memorable dawn. And what remains are the songs: melodies that seem tailor-made to attach themselves to the events of one's own life.

Parachutes, then, is an album of beautiful songs, built to last. And that can never be a small thing.

Coldplay spend all of 2001 touring the world, playing live and, along the way, occasionally previewing some new songs. But the studio sessions for the new album, which began in October at Abbey Road with Ken Nelson and Mark Phythian, don't fully satisfy the band, who want to make their second record with every possible care, as if it were the last one of their career. Hence the decision to head back to Liverpool, to the small Parr Street Studios, and re-record part of an album that was already nearly finished. Not only do Coldplay give the London-recorded tracks — deemed too weak — a more aggressive makeover in Liverpool, but within a few weeks they even write brand new ones, including "Daylight", "The Whisper" and the masterpiece "The Scientist".

Part of the credit for this fast way of working goes to the presence in the studio of Ian McCulloch, the deus ex machina of Echo & The Bunnymen, a band so beloved by Chris Martin and co. that they've often paid tribute to it live with cover versions: Chris himself would admit that Ian's advice often settled matters that would otherwise have wasted a lot more time. The band would return the favor by recording not one but two tracks on McCulloch's next work, "Slideling".

"In My Place" is released ahead of the album, and it's immediately clear that Coldplay are no passing phenomenon. If they haven't quite written a new "Yellow", they've come very close: "In My Place" is just as dreamy, penetrating and romantic (perhaps just a touch less abrasive). The packaging is spartan, a white digipak depicting a stylized face: it would become the stylistic signature of all of Coldplay's future artwork.

A Rush Of Blood To The Head (2002) is officially released in late August in Europe and late October in the US. While on first listen the album feels more rock and more surface-level than the debut, what immediately strikes you is the killer sequence it opens with: "Politik", "In My Place", "God Put A Smile Upon Your Face" and "The Scientist" make up the most explosive, gripping opening one-two-three-four since U2's "The Joshua Tree". And that's not even counting the fifth track, "Clocks", the song that set off full-blown Coldplay-mania in America.

On closer listening, the album sets itself apart from its predecessor through greater internal cohesion and attention to detail. What hasn't faded, though, is Coldplay's ability to play and sing beautiful, simple melodies, and to know exactly how to deliver them in the right tone. So you can let yourself be charmed by the tender melancholy of "Warning Sign", by the perfect balance of the aching title track, and by darker, more powerful tracks like the opening "Politik" and "A Whisper", which betrays a debt or two to U2.

In the end, it's hard to argue with those who consider A Rush Of Blood To The Head a wonderful album, one that sweeps away ten years of britpop.

By Coldplay's own admission, the world tour following the release of A Rush Of Blood To The Head is the most exhausting thing they've ever done. They make several stops in Italy too, and the frenzy that greets them is the same in every corner of the world. Hence the release of a live album after just two studio records - an operation that looks superfluous on paper, but is actually more than rewarding given the quality of the band's live performances.

Live 2003 captures the band during the concerts held on July 21 and 22 at the Hordern Pavilion in Sydney. The DVD features 17 songs, including the previously unreleased "Moses", plus forty minutes of behind-the-scenes footage, where you can savor all the genuineness of the four London lads. The CD offers a 70-minute "summary".

From the intensity of the performances, from Chris Martin's charisma, from the warmth with which the audience greets the first few seconds of every single song, it's clear that Coldplay are the only possible successors to U2 on the throne of the best stadium rock band.

Adding a touch more hype to the band is the love-story between Chris Martin and actress Gwyneth Paltrow: the two will marry in December 2003 and have two children, Apple and Moses.

At the end of 2003, Coldplay made available on their website a cover of the Pretenders' "2000 Miles", which quickly became the best-selling download in Britain that year. All proceeds were donated by the band to the Future Forests and Stop Handgun Violence campaigns.

2004 is a year of rest from the rigors of the stage and renewed work in the studio, for the sessions of their third record. In May, a new song, complete with video, celebrates the birth of Martin's daughter Apple on their official website.

The new studio album is preceded by a series of intimate, secret shows in Europe and North America, fueling anticipation.

The novelty that X&Y (2005) introduces into Coldplay's sound (and which should be the decisive blow for the band's breakthrough) is depersonalization. If Parachutes could boast sincerity and freshness, and A Rush Of Blood To The Head looked to the Eighties with heightened percussion and wave guitars in a quest for maturity, X&Y, rather than continuing along this line, simply sounds elderly. And it's exactly the same sound (go figure) as the very latest U2. The introduction of violins, synths (Brian Eno plays on it, though nobody seems to notice) and organ, and the more prominent role given to the bass, all take place within a hyper-polished (over)production.

This is the album's biggest flaw: having a sound detached both from the historical context and from the band's own roots. On the other hand, Martin's songwriting streak hasn't run dry: in fact, while it's true that some tracks seem written on purpose to sell, the album comes across as less immediate than its predecessors, with greater work put into the songs' melodic structures. That's the case with "Square One", opened by an ethereal synth and whispered melody before exploding, with guitar runs and piano figures in the background and an acoustic close. The deeply tender "What If", the best track here, starts as a piano ballad that nods to the best of Elton John, then gets launched into open space by a flash of guitar over which Martin's falsetto arches.

The operation doesn't always come off, as shown by the admittedly interesting "X&Y", marked by violins, caught between ethereal whispers and psychedelic streaks that never quite blend perfectly, and "Low", which kicks off decisively, then splits between enchantment and disenchantment before taking an unpleasant fatalistic turn.

On the anthemic side, there's some good fruit to be had: that's the case with "Speed Of Sound", the lead single, which boasts a fine piano part, and "Talk", with its stadium-ready riff, while "Fix You" achieves lesser results, a saccharine organ-driven serenade saved by its choral, building finale. The album's closing stretch, however, sees a dip in quality, with the best thing on offer being the hidden track, "Til Kingdom Come", a delicate folk-pop piece for acoustic guitar, piano and organ.

In short, the conclusion to draw is that of a band destined to see its sales grow enormously without thereby selling out.

Long-awaited and promoted with unprecedented hype, Viva La Vida (2008) brings a sensational novelty: production by Brian Eno. Just as he did with early U2 and the mature Talking Heads, rock's own Leonardo Da Vinci took the four young Londoners and turned them into cool-headed pop instrumentalists who retrace the entire history of britrock with fresh creative vigor.

The whole album is in fact steeped in citation, but the intersections between melody and arrangement now sound far more sharply focused. On "42" the mood shifts from Lennon's "Imagine" to Radiohead's "Paranoid Android", and then into a skipping, Arcade Fire-like nursery-rhyme. The double "Lovers In Japan/Reign Of Love" kicks off with a joyous rush that again recalls Arcade Fire, before fading into a lullaby of strings and muted piano. The title track (their biggest hit) stuffs Smiths-like melodicism with strings, timpani and celesta, and dies away on a church organ. "Yes", the most ambitious track, is a ballad that echoes the Beatles' "Eleanor Rigby", while concealing a wealth of sounds in the background (guitar murmurs, strings and a drum machine).

Other nice touches include “Lost!”, indebted to Lennon's “Give Peace A Chance”, propelled by polyphonic organ and handclaps, and the soul-oriented “Cemeteries Of London”, with a vocal borrowed from late-period Bono, free, off-time piano notes and flamenco-style syncopation. But “Strawberry Swing” adopts a jubilant honky-tonk feel and an almost lysergic arrangement free-for-all. And “Violet Hill”, the lead single, is an atypical hit (ska-ish gait, apocalyptic guitars, chanted choruses), bookended by two tiny production marvels: a drone dawn and a hushed close straight out of Harold Budd. On a larger scale, the album too is opened and closed by matching intro and outro, almost a glitch psalmody that at the start is enriched by an instrumental motif and at the end serves as backdrop to Martin's singing.

It's an album of unprecedented sonic muscle and sonic sleight-of-hand, disguising blandness as existentialism. The Eno filter, amid electronic scaffolding, digital clumps and thunderstruck harmonies, injects a more-than-generous – at times excessive – dose of visionary showmanship.

The deadlines of the pop industry never wait forever. Martin and co., after a two-year run studded with triumphs, with the usual millions of copies sold per album (Viva La Vida is the best-selling album worldwide in 2008, and it's hardly shelved the following year either), awards and various accolades, get back to work in search of less travelled roads. After several attempts, they arrive at Mylo Xyloto (2011), an album with a mysterious, exotic title, having previewed its contents during concerts and appearances.

Inside, little more than ten compositions, plus a few instrumental fragments, by no means forgetful of the now-famous recipe. Yet there are some surprises: besides the notorious duet with R&B sex symbol Rihanna, to whom “Princess Of China” is dedicated, the electronic punctuation grows ever more concrete, eventually hitting the typical beats of contemporary club music. Elsewhere it makes the tracks more dreamlike, as happens on the opening “Hurts Like Heaven”, “Paradise” and “Charlie Brown”.

Towards the end of 2013, the band and its affairs are back in the news: a new album seems to be on the way. Martin, though, has to deal with a serious personal problem, the end of his decade-plus relationship with Gwyneth Paltrow. He handles it with his usual discretion. But it's clear the songwriting bore its mark. Ghost Stories (2014) comes across as more homogeneous than its predecessor, even more draped in melancholy, and more rarefied in sound. Chris Martin's voice is the main protagonist, with his bandmates enriching the backdrop of what could easily pass for a solo work. No radical shift, rather the continuation of a poetics of everyday life, made of small steps, whispered words, fairly direct, even banal in their simplicity.

Countless hands and minds worked on it, but in the end it's always and only Chris: from the soft musings of “Always On My Head”, forever ready to explode yet ultimately reluctant to do so, which could soften even Paul Buchanan, to the classic sarcasm of “Magic”, limp gait and sullen look describing the wonder of life. And then there's the drowsy, vaguely Latin rhythm that turns into the whistled skip of “Ink”, or the familiar yet still touching tenderness of “True Love”. Micro-variations in the history of classic pop.

In the following A Head Full Of Dreams (2015), though, they return to the technicolor pop of Mylo Xyloto (the grandiose “Army Of One” is almost a “Paradise” part two), but rather than reiterating what came before, they've stripped it of any remaining rock grandeur in favour of a more folk, almost world-music attitude, while keeping intact the romanticism of their previous record. So amid kaleidoscopes, iridescence, minuets, music boxes and Obama reciting “Amazing Grace”, Coldplay build an impeccable conceptual frame to present the new songs, which are often not as sharply focused as the atmospheres they lean on.

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