Dear Chris,
Mate, what’s going on? I’m worried about you. I just heard your new single, Paradise, and quite frankly it’s put me in the mood to kill something, it’s so bad. I accidentally heard it on the radio and immediately filed a complaint with Ofcom.
For a song called Paradise it paints a remarkably accurate picture of what hell sounds like – the horrifically dull pop synths borrowed from every pop song of the last ten years, the Umbrella-esque “para, para, paradise” hook, the lazy and desperate “woah oh oh oh” line which cynically pre-empts a crowd singalong at your next stadium tour. These last two singles, in fact, have been terrible to their core. Every Teardrop Is A Rainfall – what the hell kind of title is that? That’s what a spoof Coldplay band puts out. You’ve descended into self-parody.
What happened, man? When did you stop caring? It didn’t used to be this way. Your first album was pretty good. I was 13 when it came out and it appealed to my burgeoning pubescent angst – it was gentle, sensitive, heartfelt. It had acoustic guitars, warbling unaffected singing and thoughtful lyrics about girls and insecurity and stuff. It provided a window of comfort during my confusing teenage years. I was an unashamed fan. I even went to one of your gigs. I took my mum.
Parachutes is by far your best album. But you didn’t seem to think so. “We know that’s terrible music,” you said of it in 2006, “and we always try to think about what we can do next.” Maybe you’re too sensitive and insecure for your own good. It seems modesty got the better of you, and over the years you’ve released albums steadily decreasing in quality. I stopped listening, partly because it did my street credibility no good whatsoever to have Coldplay on my iPod. But your slow decline into lameness went in tandem with how shit your music became. I don’t dislike you because you’re not cool – I dislike you because I think you’re boring, obvious, unoriginal, repetitive, bland, and annoying. Sorry.
When you first emerged, it seemed like your main influences were Radiohead and U2. Imagine what you might have sounded like if you’d have leaned towards the former! Instead, you went for the latter, the dark side, for the stadium glory, and now you sound like you were discovered by Simon Cowell. For shame.
Love to Gywn!
John
The Nuge. 