It seems as if every time I log onto Twitter, a new celebrity is sharing their thoughts on a particular topic. Sometimes it’s the paparazzi or a political candidate; sometimes it’s a new beauty trend or foodie fad. And sometimes, when the stars align in a glorious instance that confirms our humanity, it’s Coldplay that we discuss.
Let’s face the facts: Coldplay is kind of the Nickleback of the British music scene. When you go to type “Why do people hate Coldplay” into Google, the full search option appears after typing ‘c’. So, when the UK export was announced as the headliner for this year’s Super Bowl halftime show, it’s no surprise that people felt cheated. Since the band’s first single hit airwaves sixteen years ago, people have found enjoyment in actively disliking not only Coldplay’s music, but their entire presentation as well. It’s a truly strange phenonmenon, that mutual mockery bonds people more than mutual respect.
I never enjoyed Coldplay’s music, but I never believed that Coldplay was an ~utter disgrace~ in the same sense that self-professed patron saints of the rock establishment do. I’ll be the first to admit that my taste in music is not in any way refined or unique. What was true, however, was the fact that I found much of Coldplay’s music melodramatic and nonsensical. I didn’t know why “The Scientist” was not about actual science or why exactly Chris Martin decided to take us on a collective romantic stroll in the “Yellow” music video.
I maintained this mindset until about two months ago when, as I’ve mentioned, it was announced that Coldplay would headline the halftime show at the Super Bowl. This took place around the same time that their eighth album A Head Full of Dreams was released. Dedicating my finals week Spotify playlist to the likes of “Kaleidoscope” and “Army of One”, I figured that, although it pained me to do so, I should do my homework.
I was incredibly surprised by the outcome of my little experiment. The likes of “Hymn for the Weekend” and “Adventure of a Lifetime” were uncharacteristically joyful. For the first time since Taylor Swift released 1989, I felt not necessarily excited, but relieved by the album. Coldplay’s sound strayed from what was expected, probably due to Stargate Production’s presence on the album for the first time. The decision to choose the team behind some of Katy Perry and Rihanna’s most popular singles was a conscious one; Coldplay understood the dynamic that their more heartbreaking songs created and wanted to change the musical narrative. Chris Martin commented on this transition in an interview with the Wall Street Journal, saying that he wanted listeners to focus on the way the music made them feel rather than the meaning or lyrics. And maybe that’s the problem I always had with Coldplay; I was trying to analyze something that couldn’t be analyzed. As shocked as I felt, I was genuinely excited for their Super Bowl performance.
I knew that I was a full-fledged fan when this past Sunday rolled around and I wasn’t pleased with the outcome. While Beyoncé and Bruno Mars were wonderfully talented additions to the lineup, the act seemed punctuated by an awkward genre gap. Perhaps the most confusing aspect is that a majority of the blame fell on Coldplay, the act that was laid out as the headliner. With everyone from comedians to ESPN analysts criticizing the group’s presence, I was sorely disappointed, but not discouraged. I was glad that I had given up my irrational hatred of Coldplay and I was reminded that, when it’s difficult to stack up against the Beyoncés of the world, we should simply pay attention to the way music makes us feel. There’s room for everyone on the charts and in our hearts.
Keep rockin’ to whatever you love, HCNDers!
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