It's really not supposed to happen this way. Four boys who love their mothers meet at college and decide to form a band. They gig hard. They write good songs. One of those songs, "Yellow," becomes a second national anthem. A debut album, woozy with the maturity of someone twice their age, follows. It tops the charts.
Not quite the story of blood, spunk, and broken beer glasses that make up many rock 'n' roll myths, but the lives of England's Coldplay will never be the same. "I sometimes find I can't relate to people's real-life concerns," singer Chris Martin told Select in November. "A friend will ring up and say that his mum's broken her leg and I'm like, 'That's all very well but we've got to go and sound-check.'"
Aside from the odd priorities this is a band who glance at the stars but pride themselves on keeping their feet on the ground. Chris Martin was born in the county of Devon. His mother was a teacher. His father was an accountant. He'll admit that the first album he ever bought was either Michael Jackson's Thriller or Bad. He cried over Life Is Beautiful and ran out of Scream 2.
Martin attended the University College of London with his guitar and the aim of forming a band. He met Welsh guitarist Jon Buckland, Scottish bassist Guy Berryman, and bloke drummer Will Champion "just through the standard inane way you meet people in halls."
"Me and Jonny started writing songs; there seemed to be a magic going on," Martin remembered. "Then Guy and Will joined." Early material like "Brothers and Sisters" followed the standard soft/loud/soft/loud dynamics of post-Nirvana indie rock, but Martin's voice, Buckland's effects-laden guitar, and their jazzy rhythm section soon began writing wracked ballads in the mold of heroes like Radiohead and Jeff Buckley.
They followed the 500-unit pressing of 1998's The Safety EP with 1999's Brothers and Sisters EP, released on the hip label Fierce Panda. In April of '99, they signed with Parlophone in the middle of London's Trafalgar Square. "We just didn't want to do it in an office," says Buckland. Coldplay were mostly seeing the insides of studios and sweaty venues, as they recorded their debut and toured the country at the same time.
Word gets around quickly in England, and thanks to a fanatical music press and delirious audience, the band soon accrued "next big thing" status. Martin's lyrics described pain in the plain language Thom Yorke had put aside. The Flaming Lips' 1999 masterpiece, The Soft Bulletin, also taught them how to sing about hope and not sound cheesy. With the Cool Britannia built on Oasis' working-class bluster melting fast, these shy, retiring types offered tea and sincerity.
By 2000, more people were coming to see them support the heavily tipped Terris than sticking around for the headliners themselves. "Shiver" went into the top 40, but it was the release of "Yellow" in June, accompanied by a performance at that summer's Glastonbury Festival that left taste-making DJ Steve Lamacq in tears, that made them a household name. Martin's heartfelt declaration of "I'd bleed myself dry for you," coupled with Buckland's attention-getting riff, was uncomplicated and damn hummable. "Yellow" went to No. 4, and their album Parachutes topped the charts.
There were a few naysayers. The NME, who had made the group its cover stars, pondered, "There's something undeniably irritating about a band who try quite so hard to be ordinary." When Parachutes was nominated for a Mercury Music Award in July, former Creation boss Alan McGee sneered, "Coldplay are like something from an ice-cream advert, just complete careerists."
It's true that Coldplay aren't old enough yet to know how to deal with such barbs. But what's exciting is that they're learning. While touring Australia, they made plans to record with El Paso, Texas, firebrands At the Drive-In, and Martin has developed a frightening admiration for Fred Durst. They're determined not to repeat themselves on the next album. But first there's America to win over. It might just happen. Nobody has said "Travis" yet, but if you haven't heard "Yellow" on your local modern rock radio station, then you've probably caught it on an ABC promotional spot. The stars still shine for Coldplay.
"We want as many people as possible in the world to love our music," Martin told The Independent. "The other day I met Liam Gallagher, and I was expecting him to go on about Robbie Williams and the Sun, but he just doesn't give a shit about anything except songs. He loves music. And I thought, that's wicked, that means I don't have to feel any shame about it."
