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“It’s wuss rock, you should hate it,” I said to myself. “After all, you’ve managed to be the only person in the world to hate U2 for this long, and for the very same reason (well, that and a certain lead singer’s insistence on being the cheesiest poser the world has ever known) and Coldplay isn’t that different, at least as far as status is concerned.” But try as I have to find disgust in this band, in this album, in the whole Coldplay experience, I just cannot keep from loving the band and the album!
Yes, the time to step out and admit it has finally come, so I’m outing myself here, where everyone can see. I do love Coldplay…I can’t help it; they’ve made themselves impossible to hate. Personally, I blame Chris Martin. If his hooks weren’t so damn touching, if he wasn’t so good – recorded and live, I think I’d have an easier time finding fault. But, alas, the charismatic Brit had me at “yellow.”
X&Y is an emotional highpoint for a band with many such highpoints under
its belt. Every song is crafted like a great movie, building and building until the ball drops during the climax and you literally have to wipe the tears from your eyes. I apologize, I’m a rock & roller and we aren’t really supposed to cry…but seriously, listen to the album and tell me you didn’t. I won’t believe you. It’s that good.
If forced to pick the best that this album has to offer, I’d have to say “Swallowed in the Sea,” a really great ballad that just blows you away the minute the drums kick in. At first, “Fix You” sounds like a huge mistake, the vocal melody is a bit rough, but by the middle of the song it starts to make sense and you wouldn’t want it any other way. And the bridge will knock you flat on your butt.
If you have ever loved someone, are in love now, or are planning on ever experiencing this emotion, then this CD is a definite go. Perhaps this is why Coldplay’s music is so successfully taking over the world even as I write this review. I don’t just recommend this album, I’ll guarantee satisfaction.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go back to my booze and not showering…back to my frayed jeans, sweaty Guns N’ Roses t-shirt and my guitar. Hey, I may like wuss rock from time to time, but I’m still the same ol’ me…honest.
