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With recent news suggesting that the members of Coldplay (especially vocalist Chris Martin) had gone a bit Apocalypse Now after months spent on the road touring Parachutes, it was a revelation to see the band bound on stage like Bon Jovi, and crack open proceedings with a majestic Shiver. They were supposed to be crankier than this - moodily staring at their shoes, a grunted thankyou or two then trudge off, perhaps with a token toss of a guitar on to the floor to reflect their disgust at having to do this, again.

But from the outset proceedings were more than epic enough to fill the venue which Martin described at one point as too big for the band; he’d go on to mention how disconcerting it was trying to speak to each distant end of the building, "Victoria over here," he gestured to one side with a flailing hand, "and South Australia over here." But he also revealed genuine astonishment at how Coldplay’s popularity had risen in the six months since they’d first been here.

Anyways, Martin, for one, is jerking across the stage like Bono on acid, in time with Will Champion’s drums, which only pound harder as the night wears on. You’d swear they were rock stars if it wasn’t for the fact that bassist Guy and guitarist Jonny spend the entire show bathed in black, with Martin dimly lit as it is, and Champion (his kit democratically placed front left) only occasionally lit up by some reflected glow.

Maybe this, then, is their way of hiding, their way of avoiding the grumpiness that would be uncovered if we were able to see them clearly. But then, they can’t be that grumpy - Martin is hopping over and dipping down to the kids in the front row, lapping up the sudden screams, then skipping back to the mic. Then he’s asking for five seconds silence for the English cricket team, at which point all four members of Coldplay do solemnly bow their heads for five seconds. They’re met by friendly Australian jeers, prompting Martin to emerge from his silence with a remark of the "thanks for the respect, you fuckers" variety. Not, obviously, the actions of a bunch of grumpy rock star types who would rather be anywhere else but here.

And so Coldplay’s set turns out to be the heartwarming celebration it was destined to be. Martin’s voice rings clear and true (no mean feat in Festival Hall), whilst Jonny Buckland’s guitar does the work that other bands would employ a violinist or even a gospel choir to achieve (if he is not talked about in future years as a John Squire or Johnny Marr for his generation, then there is no justice in the world). They play several new songs, which, once the "I can’t sing along to this" factor wears off, reveal themselves to be just as absorbing as the songs the crowd already knew. Word prior to this gig was that the new material was harder, heavier, louder. All true, but the overwhelming impression is not so much that Coldplay have taken a different direction, more that they’re getting to the point faster - rather than mellow beginnings met with a heart-stopping moment of increased volume and intensity, these new songs cut straight to that heart-stopping moment, and spend all of their time being emotional crescendos. And Coldplay know how to play the game - after subjecting the crowd to the unfamiliar, a reward comes in the shape of a super-sized, singalong rendition of Yellow.

To close, Martin is left alone on stage to deliver an acoustic Hank Williams number... it’s nice enough, but just as the gig seems set to close with a whimper, the rest of the band emerge to Backstreet Boys-sized cheers, strapping on their instruments one last time to take it out with fervour. Once again, obviously not the actions of a bunch of men who have decided that making music for a living and travelling the world sucks, and not the actions of a band who are about to go into the studio to make an unlistenably arty slice of crap so as to immediately shave off 98 per cent of their audience.

Thank heavens for that.

NEALA JOHNSON (Beat Magazine)

Setlist

01. Shiver
02. Spies
03. Animals
04. Don't Panic
05. God Must Have Put A Smile Upon Your Face
06. Everything's Not Lost
07. Idiot
08. Yellow
09. In My Place

10. Trouble
11. Lost Highway