Select Magazine, January 2000 (Chris Martin Interview)

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Supposed miserablists and guitar revialists signed to Parlophone. Be prepared for plenty of Radiohead comparisons.

"If life is one big airplane journey, we've just gone through customs." Just five minutes into the interview and only an inch down the pint glass, Coldplay singer Chris Martin is getting all conceptual. "We know what number our flight is, we just don't know how long it's going to take."

"But what class seat are we in?" asks guitarist Jon Buckland, continuing the aeronautical metaphor. Chris thinks for a moment and grins, "Luggage class, definately."

Such modesty is very cool, given the amount of head-spinning attention Devon/Home Counties crew, Coldplay have received in the past six months. After releasing 500 copies of their self-financed 'Safety EP' the band (also including bassist Guy Berryman and drummer Will Champion) began attracting record companies like poachers around well-fed pheasants, thanks to their fine plumage of acoustic melancholy and emotional uplift.

These skills were honed during hours upon hours of warden-baiting University College of London bedroom practice with Chris putting his boy band side project, the fabulously named Pectoralz, firmly on the back-burner. Doing loads of gigs in settings like Egyptians-themed bars and pub back rooms, Coldplay began to realise music was a far more interesting proposition than attending job interviews.

Eventually, they signed to Parlophone smack in the middle of Trafalgar Square. "That was fantastic," grins Chris. "But signing the publishing deal was way better - that was done on a rowing boat in the middle of The Serpentine in Hyde Park. But we only had enough money for 15 minutes so we had to do it sharpish."

The first fruits of this maritime alliance came in the shape of 'The Blue Room EP', five tracks of heroic, anthemic folk. However, non-believers have branded them miserablists - an accusation that disgusts them.

"All our songs have very simple emotions," says Ancient World Studies graduate Chris. "They're either very happy or very sad, but never miserable." He takes a sip of lager. "Oh all right, the last track, 'Such a Rush' is pretty damn depressing. But the rest aren't, I promise."

With their own autumn tour and a couple of summer festival appearances under their belt, plus a Catatonia support slot ("I had to hold her cigarette while she went to the loo!" exclaims Chris of the divine Cerys) there's no shortage of solid experience which should stand them in good stead once the debut album appears next year.

"Do you know what's going to happen with music in the year 2000?" demands Jon, setting off the in-house pub theory alarms. "Guitars are going to make a massive comeback. For the next two months everyone's going to be celebrating with dance music, but the moment everyone wakes up on the first day of 2000, they'll be screaming out for emotional guitar music."

"Quite right," nods Chris in agreement. "That's why the Vengaboys are bigger than us right now." Grins spread across the band's faces. "But that's all going to change. You wait."