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Rating: I walk into a record store like any other on a dull day like any other, perfectly convinced that my sovereign aesthetic taste and my keen critical spirit can never be undermined by any individual/inanimate being that may present itself before me. The criteria that pompously support my musical inclinations are rock-solid, I think, as I look at the new Coldplay album. And suddenly my brain is illuminated by a chilling image: Coldplay, a ridiculously pretentious and fake band, nauseatingly sycophantic, implausibly hollow and populist. They play what the "people" want to hear, hungry for tear-jerking melodies and G major progressions. One of the worst things England has produced, musically speaking, since the sad days of Sporty Spice and Take That.
But magically a greater force, in an evident state of hypnotic trance, compels me to extend my little hand towards that horrid object. I return home, and with a goofy smile and a trickle of drool on my chin, I put the CD in the player, and the amazement is great. Very great. It's as if the sky turned green, the stars went out, Juventus became stronger than Milan, Gigi d'Alessio sang at next year's Glastonbury. The world upside down. What I hear I like, I like Coldplay. In fact, I like this band that has nothing to do with that tacky counterfeit they sold (even poorly) as the best band of the millennium (1000 years).
Among the ten tracks of the album (with three hidden tracks), the quality is maintained: nothing exceptionally indispensable, but everything absolutely valid. There's "Violet Hill" that puts some damn rock into those languid homoerotic sweeps, accompanied by a voice that finally frees itself from that unbearable sugary sweetness. It seems to come from the pen of a Christmas Gallagher. There's "42" that shows how Radiohead replace the pretentious U2 in influences: piano opening - electric guitar riffs - Beatles-like variation - circular return to the beginning. There's "Yes" that even presents (middle) eastern ascents of exquisite refinement. There's "Lost" which is a crappy song but dismembered into its individual units and recomposed with style and originality. In short, there's a minimum of courage, experimental boldness, positive innovation. An album that shows its scrotum (to put it scientifically), that raises the level by a notch, that allows us to call "music" what Chris and his friends had only strummed and grunted (vomitously).
Maybe it's a door to a brilliant and unstoppable evolution. Maybe it's just a jolt of pride for those who wade in a sea of paucity and steaming banality. But it's already something, and it is our peremptory duty to recognize and appreciate it. From tomorrow, they may return to writing background music for heavy makeouts in cars, but this time they've churned out a damn convincing album.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
02 Cemeteries of London (03:20)
At night they would go walking ‘till the breaking of the day,
The morning is for sleeping…
Through the dark streets they go searching to see God in their own way,
Save the nighttime for your weeping…
Your weeping…
Singing la lalalalala la lé…
And the night over London, hey…
So we rode down to the river where the toiling ghosts spring,
For their curses to be broken…
We’d go underneath the arches where the witches are in the saying,
There are ghost towns in the ocean…
The ocean…
Singing la lalalalala la lé…
And the night over London, ey…
God is in the houses and God is in my head… and all the cemeteries in London…
I see God come in my garden, but I don’t know what he said,
For my heart it wasn’t open….
Not open…
Singing la lalalalala la lé…
And the night over London, ey…
Singing la lalalalala la lé…
There’s no light over London today…
04 42 (03:57)
Those who are dead are not dead
They're just living in my head
And since I fell for that spell
I am living there as well, oh
Time is so short
And I'm sure
There must be something more
Those who are dead are not dead
They're just living in my head, oh
And since I fell for that spell
I am living there as well
Time is so short
And I'm sure
There must be something more
You thought you might be a ghost
You thought you might be a ghost
You didn't get to heaven but you made it close
You didn't get to heaven but you made it close
You thought you might be a ghost
You thought you might be a ghost
You didn't get to heaven but you made it close
You didn't get to heaven but you, oh, oh
Those who are dead are not dead
They're just living in my head
06 Yes / Chinese Sleep Chant (07:06)
When it started, we had high hopes
Now my back's on the line, my back's on the ropes
When it started, we were alright
But night makes a fool of us in the daylight
There we were dying of frustration
Singing, "Lord lead me not into temptation"
But it's not easy when she turns you on
Sin, stay gone
If you'd only, if you'd only say yes
Whether you will's anybody's guess
God, only God knows I'm trying my best
But I'm just so tired of this loneliness
So, up they picked me by the big toe
I was held from the rooftop, then they let go
Dizzily screaming, "Let the windows down"
As I crawl to the ground
If you'd only, if you'd only say yes
Whether you will's anybody's guess
God, only God knows she won't let me rest
But I'm just so tired of this loneliness
I've become so tired of this loneliness
07 Viva la Vida (04:04)
I used to rule the world
Seas would rise when I gave the word
Now in the morning I sleep alone
Sweep the streets I used to own
I used to roll the dice
Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes
Listen as the crowd would sing
"Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!"
One minute I held the key
Next the walls were closed on me
And I discovered that my castles stand
Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand
I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can't explain
Once you go there was never
Never an honest word
And that was when I ruled the world
It was the wicked and wild wind
Blew down the doors to let me in
Shattered windows and the sound of drums
People couldn't believe what I'd become
Revolutionaries wait
For my head on a silver plate
Just a puppet on a lonely string
Oh who would ever want to be king?
I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can't explain
I know Saint Peter won't call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world
I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can't explain
I know Saint Peter won't call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world
08 Violet Hill (03:49)
Was a long and dark December
From the rooftops I remember
There was snow
White snow
Clearly I remember
From the windows they were watching
While we froze
Down below
When the future's architectures
By a carnival of idiots on show
You'd better lie low
If you love me
Won't you let me know?
Was a long and dark December
When the banks became cathedrals
And the fog
Became God
Priests clutched onto bibles
Hollowed out to fit their rifles
And the cross was held aloft
Bury me in armor
When I'm dead and hit the ground
A love back home unfolds
If you love me
Won't you let me know?
I don't want to be a soldier
Who the captain of some sinking ship
Would stow, far below
So if you love me
Why did you let me go?
I took my love down to Violet Hill
There we sat in snow
All that time she was silent still
So if you love me
Won't you let me know?
If you love me,
Won't you let me know?
09 Strawberry Swing (04:09)
They were sitting
They were sitting
In the strawberry swing
Every moment was so precious
They were sitting
They were talking
In the strawberry swing
Everybody was for fighting
Wouldn't wanna waste a thing
Cold, cold water
Bring me round
Now my feet
Won't touch the ground
Cold, cold water
What ya say?
It's such
It's such a perfect day
It's such a perfect day
I remember
We were walking up
To strawberry swing
I can't wait 'til the morning
Wouldn't wanna change a thing
People leaving all the time
Inside
A perfectly straight line
Don't you wanna curve away
It's such
It's such a perfect day
It's such a perfect day
Now the sky could be blue
I don't mind
Without you
It's a waste of time
Could be blue
I don't mind
Without you
It's a waste of time
Could be blue
Could be grey
Without you
I'm just miles away
Could be blue
I don't mind
Without you
It's a waste of time
10 Death and All His Friends / The Escapist (06:18)
All winter
We got carried
Or way over on the rooftops just get merry
All summer we just hurry
So come over just be patient and don't worry
So come over just be patient and don't worry
So come over just be patient and don't worry
So come over just be patient and don't worry
So come over just be patient and don't worry
And don't worry
Try
Try
Try
No I don't want to battle from the year to end
I don't want to cycle and recycle revenge
I don't want to follow death and all of his friends...
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Other reviews
By Chopinsky
Coldplay have changed, folks, but they do not betray their nature and continue to pursue their poetry with the usual, disarming honesty.
"Viva la vida or Death and all his friends" is not Coldplay's "Kid-A". The much-heralded experimentation did not find confirmation... But that's fine. In fact, it's great.
By GrantNicholas
Viva La Vida is certainly not an album as good as the previous ones; you surely won’t find a 'Fix You' or a 'Trouble', but we’re not facing a poor album either.
The hidden track 'Chinese Sleep Chant' surprises, dark and ambiguous like no Coldplay song has ever been.
By Doherty
It all opens with the entirely instrumental track "Life in Technicolor", a more than 2-minute gallop that borders on instrumental perfection.
"Viva la Vida" emerges with a total absence of guitars and a joyful rhythm and choir that elevate the track to a veritable anthem of happiness.
By nss_gabriele
"It’s just the freedom to say 'It can’t please everyone. We’re in it right now, so let’s just do it.'"
"An album fresh, bright, dynamic, with a universal scope, that resides in that seldom-treaded territory between pop banalities and the acido-cacophonic extremes of experimentation."
By davoz
It is precisely that pronounced melodicism... which is compromised by the work of the Woodbridge genius.
One is decidedly disappointed... a misstep, but nothing to worry about.
