Totally Shuffled Day 64/366 Coldplay-Now My Feet Won't Touch the Ground
Coldplay extract from "Totally Shuffled" here
Coldplay-Now My Feet Won’t Touch The
Ground-Prospekt’s March
Somewhat
inevitably there would come a time during the year when I would shuffle upon
one of the few bands or artists who mean a lot to me personally. I suppose it
is obvious that I actually like most of the music on the iPod-there’d be no
point in putting music on that I don’t enjoy, or have at sometime in the past
liked. Some of the artists and some of the music I have come to gradually
appreciate less and less as the years advance; to the point when I wonder if I
really liked it in first place, or question why I liked it at all. Not many
though. Most of the stuff on here, even music I haven’t listened to for a good
few years, I still really like. Sometimes I’ll come across a track that’s on
here which I’ve never heard before, and by-and-large there’s usually something
there in it that makes it worth a listen.
There is though, a small yet distinct,
category of artists that stand apart and above. These are artists who not only
have produced great music over the years, but have something about them as
well, some indefinable characteristic. It may additionally be that I’ve
collected so much of their work or that I’ve been into them for so long, I
couldn’t imagine not hearing them again. Even when they produce something that
is below their usual standards, it’s still head and shoulders above 99.9% of
anything else. It’ll always be interesting and different, and they’ll always
come up with something unexpected. For these artists I’ve decided to stretch my
initial rules a bit and allow myself more than 500 words if and when they
shuffle up. Just so I set the amended rules at this stage, relatively early on
in the year, and with no room for adding any more, the 500+’ll be Bob Dylan,
The Fall, Prefab Sprout, The Flaming Lips, Blind Willie Tell, Muslimgauze and
Bruce Springsteen. That’s presuming they come up on shuffle of course. And the
reason for this preamble-isn’t it clear? Coldplay are the final ones in this
special grouping.
As my friends and family can testify, the
relationship between Coldplay and myself is somewhat chequered. Unlike The Fall
for example, who as soon as I heard them for the first time I knew that there
was something special there, or Prefab Sprout, when I was convinced of their
greatness at an early stage by my musical guru, Andy, there was nothing about
Coldplay for me for a very long time. I’d seen the video for “Yellow”, as had
probably half the population, and written them off-totally unfairly-as some
sub-Oasis chancers. The only contact I had for a long time with anything to do
with Coldplay was glancing upon reviews of their albums in say, Mojo, where at
best they were damned with faint praise. John Peel never played any Coldplay
and as my listening tastes with regard to radio had shifted to Radio 4, ”A Rush
of Blood to the Head”, and “X & Y” passed me by completely. Even more than
that though, I’d picked up on the general air of sneering within the rest of
the music press and reviews in broadsheets of Coldplay being boring, Radio 2
Phil Collins-y and pompous. This was
only exacerbated by Chris Martin and Gwyneth Paltrow’s (admittedly) annoyed
habit of giving their kids daft names and being constantly paparazzi snapped in
the tabloids. I must admit that I fell 100 per cent into this easy
mis-perception of Coldplay to the extent of every time they were mentioned I
fake-stifled a yawn and used to tell Thomas that it was physiologically
impossible to say the Coldplay without dropping into narcolepsy before
pronouncing the second syllable in their name i.e. Cold…zzzz.
This state of
affairs carried on until 2008 (i.e. at least nine years). Me dismissing
Coldplay out of hand and not bothering to give them a proper chance. Like the planets falling into conjunction,
three things happened that radically and permanently changed my prejudice
against Coldplay. (I don’t believe in all that astrology bollocks but it seems
an apt metaphor. I wouldn’t want anyone thinking that Russell Grant is some
sort of role model). First thing was that an advert for “Viva La Vida” kept
running on the TV, and I found myself thinking,”Well, this isn’t too
bad…actually it’s quite good.” The second thing was a conversation I had with
Andy, who had just seen them play at the MEN Arena in Manchester. Although I
knew he liked Coldplay a lot, but the fact that he was so enthusiastic about
the gig and for once, tried to convince me that they were much better than I
thought they were and that I was being slightly myopic made me think I should
reconsider my position. (Over the past 30 odd years I have known Andy we have
had numerous, lengthy conversations about music. We have sort have reached a
mutual unsaid agreement where very rarely either of us tries to convince the
other that they have made a mistake about any artist. For example, I have never
really tried to persuade Andy of the undoubted majesty of the Fall - but I have
tried and failed with Bob Dylan. It was unusual therefore for him to be so
adamant that I was wrong about Coldplay and it certainly gave me second
thoughts). The final piece in the jigsaw happened one weeknight when the BBC
rebroadcast a Coldplay show recorded outdoors at the BBC TV centre in front of
about 300 people. I was idly flicking through the channels when it came on and
for want of anything much better to do I sat down and watched it for 30
minutes. In that half hour I was converted-I went from sceptic to believer in
an almost quasi-religious manner. “Oh Lord, I was blind and now I can see…”
etc.
All that sounds
a bit strong and too obsessive. It is maybe a question of degree. I had moved
so far from where I had been a few weeks before that any statement of
admiration for Coldplay made me look like the most rabid born-again Christian.
Now in itself,
this change in my position was fairly radical, but not without precedent. I
have flip-flopped more than a few times over the years in repect of my attitude
to artists; Bob Dylan being a prime example, but I don’t think that I have ever
changed so much as I did with Coldplay. In some ways it seems a shame that I
missed out on them for so long, but even in my advanced years it has taught me
a valuable lesson in that an old dog can actually be taught new tricks. Or at
least that I shouldn’t dismiss things out of hand without giving them a proper
chance.
The final, final
two pieces of the jigsaw fell into place in December 2010 and June 2011 when I
saw Coldplay live in two different gigs. And these two shows couldn’t have been
more different from each other. They were really at the opposite ends of the
spectrum, but each, in their own way wholly convinced me that a) Coldplay are a
brilliant band b) taking notice of what
is considered to be hip or cutting edge is silly c) who gives a fuck if Coldplay aren’t
critically well-thought of? and d) they are just a brilliant band.
In December 2011
Coldplay announced at very short notice that they would be playing two very
small gigs for Crisis (the charity for the homeless).It was only by chance that
I found out about this because I had the day off work and kind of stumbled across
the announcement by chance on the internet. Imagine my surprise (and delight)
when I saw that the two shows would be in Newcastle and Liverpool. (Not that
delighted about Newcastle, but Liverpool..!). I saw that the tickets would be
going on sale that very day at 9.00 a.m and knew that if I wanted to go I’d
have to act very quickly to avoid a Glastonbury/Seetickets booking debacle.
Without going through the whole getting the phones/ browsers ready thing, for
once I touched lucky and by 9.15 a.m I had successfully managed to get hold of
two tickets -one for me and one for Thomas.
Additionally, not only was this
show going to be at a very small location, but the venue would only be
announced the day before i.e. this is what led them to be known as a “secret”
gig. There was feverish speculation for the couple of weeks beforehand as to
where it would be held, but an e mail popped into my inbox as promised letting
me know that it would be at the Royal Court. This was a “good sign” as this was
where I’d seen U2 in one of the best gigs ever, as well as The Fall a couple of
times and The Beat in one of the happiest shows I have been to. On the other
hand, this was the venue that where I (and many others) walked out on Killing
Joke in possible the worst gig known to man, so there was always an element of
doubt. However, we were all set for something magical that December night.
And on December
19th 2010, off we totted into town for my first live Coldplay show and Thomas’
first ever gig. How he’d got to be 20 years old and never seen a live music
show I don’t fully comprehend, but maybe music just isn’t that important
anymore. When I say we trotted off into town, that’s a bit of an exaggeration.
We didn’t trot as so much slip and slide. All this coincided with the second of
two weeks of snow and ice. Pavements had not been gritted and I fully expected
one of us to have broken an ankle as we negiotated the treacherous conditions
around the Royal Court. But by gripping onto each other’s arms like a pair of 95
year olds trying to scale a glacier, we successfully shuffled the couple of
hundred yards from the car park to the Royal Court, where we waited in the cold
for half an hour or so before the doors opened. It was so cold that by the time
the doors opened I had lost all feeling in my toes, but it didn’t really matter
as we managed to get our way to the nearly the very front of the stage.
Thankfully the Royal Court had taken the seats out for the show and we got a
very good spec, right dead centre with only two or three people in front of
us. Normally I hate being crushed at the
front and like to view gigs from a safe distance,where I can stretch out and
ponder in the fashion of a true 50 year old. Or, in the case of Muse, easily get
the fuck out of it as soon as possible. But this was Thomas’ first gig and I
felt that I owed it to him to enjoy the whole gig-going experience.
Coldplay were
everything and more than I could have expected. We were only a few feet away
from the edge of the stage in a theatre with a capacity of just over 1000 and
within the stalls (where we were), 300 or so. I could run down the whole set
list and go through the show, song by song. I could write about the
introduction of Coldplay by Peter Kay (the comedian), or the fact that Gary
Barlow of Take That came on stage and played with them during the encores (oh,
my hipster credentials are well and truly fucked now). All I need to write about is the sheer
joyousness of the whole thing and that within 30 seconds of Coldplay appearing
on the stage, I totally forgot about the cold in my toes and fingers. Best of
all however, was the look on Thomas’ face as Coldplay launched into “Glass of
Water” and how much he let rip and sang every word at the top of his voice.
What a way to experience your first ever gig.
Just over six
months later from this, I experienced Coldplay in a much larger venue. Not so
much as a venue, but an experience certainly. There was a slightly larger
audience at Glastonbury for Coldplay than there was at the Royal Court and I
didn’t manage to get as close to the stage either. And because I was working at
Glastonbury that year, and Coldplay’s set unfortunately co-incided with one of
my shifts then I only managed to catch a couple of songs. The only reason I
actually got to see these two songs was because thankfully, a 30 minute break
in my 8 hour shift happened whilst Coldplay were on the Pyramid. The only
common factor between seeing them in the preceding December and then at
Glastonbury, was that the conditions underfoot were lethal. In December in was
the ice and at Glastonbury it was the mud. It had pissed down the night before
when U2 were on and discretion won over valour for me on that occasion, so I
just took my break at the back of the bar and missed what was generally seen as
a disappointing set for U2. (I watched the recording of it when I got home and
I think that I made the right decision.) There must have been some divine
intervention the next night however, as the rain had stopped during the day,
just leaving thick mud everywhere. But the rain had stopped, conditions were
getting better and it was all set up for Coldplay. So a little bit of mud wasn’t
going to stop me, and as soon as my break started I ran round from the bar to
the Pyramid. Well, it’s a bit difficult to run in wellies, so I kind of
squelched my way and managed to see them play “Lost!” and “The Scientist”. Even
though I was at Glastonbury by myself that year, just hearing those two
songs,seeing them play and singing along with thousands of other people,well, it
didn’t make me feel as if I was alone at all.
That’s what’s so
good about Coldplay.
Get Totally Shuffled here
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