COLDPLAY

Exclusive interview with NME's 2016 Godlike Geniuses

Coldplay on the front cover of NME AWARDS SPECIAL (February 19th, 2016)

’CHUTING STARS!

Coldplay

Parachutes (Parlophone)

It’s all a question of what you want from your rock stars. The criticism most often levelled at Coldplay (certainly round these parts) is that they will never be the saviours of rock’n’roll. They will never cause front-page tabloid sensation and they really like their parents. Frankly, they’re more likely to enjoy a nice cup of tea in front of the TV than throw it out the window.

But, hang on. Weren’t Oasis everything we could want from a rock band once? They fought, had rock star girlfriends, slagged people off and wanted loads of cash to blow on stupid houses. Fine, but those are exactly the things that have made them an embarrassment; an endless, dull cocaine comedown. Remember the disappointment you felt after ‘Be Here Now’? Coldplay will never let you down like that.

Like Travis before them, Coldplay care about what really counts. ‘Parachutes’ is all that matters in the world to singer Chris Martin. It only takes one listen to realise how he has poured every thought, every feeling he’s had in the last two years into this record. With the focus so much on Chris’ voice here, it’s like reading one long, intimate love letter.

Indeed, for all Chris’ perceived mildness, there’s nothing half-hearted about some moments here, moments which indicate there’s more to him than anyone knows. For a man in his early 20s, the mind boggles over the tragic air of his love life; the number of feelings gone unrequited, the number of loves pined for. The band’s biggest hit so far, ‘Shiver’, is a heart-rending case in point, its first line saying it all (“So I look in your direction, but you pay me no attention”). It’s powerful because its sentiment is so simple. And, let’s face it, so easy for everyone to comprehend.

Again, in the devotional ‘Yellow’ (“For you, I bleed myself dry”, no less) or the gorgeous regret of ‘Trouble’ (“I never meant to do you harm”), it’s the force of feeling which counts. That’s what brings the entirely favourable comparisons to Jeff Buckley, The Verve, even Radiohead. But it’s far gentler than anything the latter have ever done. Unlike Thom Yorke, Chris exists in a place we can almost understand. A place that Fran Healy might have passed through, but is too happy with his girlfriend to really remember.

All told, it’s incredible this is a debut album. Accomplished, yet subtle, it works perfectly as a whole in a way all the production skills in the world couldn’t replicate. Forget trashing rooms and rent-a-quotes, just listen. This really is all that matters.

Let it be that simple for once. (9)

Siobhan Grogan

YELLOW FEVER!

Mere months after finishing their finals, Coldplay find themselves sitting high in the singles chart and contemplating “the bollocks that goes along with the record”. Like talking to NME? Cheers, lads…

Text: Piers Matin

Chris Martin stumbles into the pub in King’s Cross, leans on the door for support and squints into the beer garden.

His eyes are bloodshot saucers and he rubs a nail-bitten, dirt-stained hand across his three-day-old stubble. He spots NME and approaches. “Sorry I’m late,” he slurs, the stench of alcohol on his breath forcing us to wince. “Haven’t slept since Glasgow. Fuck knows when that was. But you know how it is on tour, eh? Lots of distractions, know what I mean?” And with that he sits down, fishes in his pocket for a half-smoked spliff and promptly sparks up. One minute later, he’s fast asleep.

Thought you knew Coldplay, then, did you? Had them marked down as the indie Westlife. Travis Junior. Nice chaps with nice songs. Well-spoken young men with a past so wholesomely squeaky clean it would have Enid Blyton reaching for the crack pipe. That’s the power of media misrepresentation. And although the band’s singer and chief songwriter Chris Martin didn’t really introduce himself in such a positively insalubrious fashion (that was a horrid joke; he bounds in beaming, looking sickeningly healthy), the fact is that while the Coldplay record might be hitherto untarnished, it’s nevertheless a record that needs to be set straight.

“Apparently,” sighs drummer Will Champion, cradling an orange juice and lemonade in the concrete surrounds of the Lucas Arms’ beer garden on the hottest day of the year, “we’re all teetotalists from Oxford who don’t drink or don’t smoke and we’re doing our Oxford finals.”

He picks out a Marlboro Light and joins guitarist Jon Buckland and drummer Guy Berryman in the joys of nicotine addiction. “Interviews always focus on backgrounds,” he adds, “and that’s quite annoying because then you start having to validate where you come from.”

“In an ideal world there would be no need for this,” agrees Chris. “Our problem is we hate that posture: it’s far more rock’n’roll for us to just be honest and, you know, we haven’t had a particularly rock’n’roll upbringing. It’s just hard to validate why we’re here, and I hate that. Apparently Joe Strummer was a middle-class boy.”

“It’s much better that we’re honest about it,” says Will. “There’s nothing worse than people pretending to be something they aren’t. You’ve got to be true to what you are. Shouldn’t have to feel guilty about where you come from.”

“The problem,” Chris considers, “is you mention the word ‘university’ and you’re just screwed. Well not screwed, I mean, we’ll transcend it. Our dilemma is that we’ll always be honest about a question, but we know that can be the noose around our necks.”

Of course, these things shouldn’t matter, and to a large extent they don’t. But as Coldplay’s rapid ascent into the nation’s heart continues apace – first ‘Shiver’ pierced the Top 40 in February, current single ‘Yellow’ is set to do far better, while their forthcoming debut album, ‘Parachutes’, is a thing of considerable, peerless beauty – so their tolerance of media intrusion subsides. It’s not that the group are bored after just under a year of constant attention, rather they can’t fully comprehend why people would be so interested in them as individuals when the music they make, to them, says everything anyone could possibly want to know.

“The only thing that gets in the way with us is the bollocks that goes along with the record,” Chris will say, chirpily; himself one of the most endearing and amusing and classically charismatic frontmen we’ve encountered for some time, and therefore a subject ripe for investigation. And if this is the bollocks, Chris Martin is quite a tease.

Coldplay could not have wished for a more fruitful seven months. If last October’s ‘The Blue Room EP’, their first single since signing to Parlophone in April 1999, hinted at the band’s potential for stadium-destined greatness with a wholly civilised and occasionally dramatic take on the Radiohead/Jeff Buckley melancholic acoustic method of mass seduction, then with ‘Parachutes’’ 11 assured songs we find that potential almost fully realised and a distinctive Coldplay sound developing.

Recorded between tours “in spits and spats between September and April” at Rockfield Studios in Wales, Par Street in Liverpool and Highbury, north London, and produced by Ken Nelson (of Gomez and Badly Drawn Boy fame), Parachutes is an album shot through with the band’s Infectious optimism and keen ear for melody.

“I can’t believe we finished it,” Chris says, at least twice.

“It was hard work,” confirms Will.

“Well, not hard work like being a miner,” the singer says. “But in terms of music it was the hardest thing we’ve ever had to do, and in terms of friendship and our commitment. It was more a case of frustration. Some of the album’s really good. But we’re ready to move on. The most important thing is that every song, we’ve really got a feeling into it. And that’s the first priority. I’m happy we’ve got as much feeling into it as possible. Obviously music-wise or song-wise or tempo-wise, you’re never gonna be happy with it.”

And if you thought the searing splendour of ‘Yellow’ was Coldplay’s finest track to date, wait ’til you hear the unarguably beautiful likes of ‘Don’t Panic’ and ‘Trouble’. Of course, if you’ve seen Coldplay’s astonishing live shows, you already know what we’re talking about. But what about parachutes? Well, they’re famously useful objects…

“They get you out of a bad situation,” says Chris. “So some of our songs you jump out of a plane and everything looks bleak, you know, and then you pull the parachute and you enjoy it: ‘Aahhhh, it’s not so bad.’ But that is bollocks. It’s called ‘Parachutes’ because we had to decide a title. But it works, it fits. Often the things that fit best are the things that have to be decided very quickly, or a bit of an accident. A good analogy is when you’ve got to rush out of the house and get something to wear, you often pick up the first thing that looks any good and then it sticks.”

“In 20 years it’ll be really interesting to talk to us. Come back then.” – Chris

This year, Coldplay haven’t had much time to think about anything. Tonight they play the final gig – and biggest headlining show – of their fourth UK tour this year at King’s Cross Scala in front of a typically cynical 800-strong London crowd who will leave the venue grinning like Cheshire cats, heads spinning.

The touring began in January with a stint on the NME Premier Tour alongside Shack, Campag Velocet and Les Rythmes Digitales. They then paired up with fellow bright new hopes Terris and, in May, supported Muse. But it’s with their own string of shows that everything’s finally started to slot into place.

“We’re made up! This is the first tour we’re not losing money on. Apart from the first show, they’ve been sold out, sold out, sold out, sold out! Wicked!” Chris gushes. “Can’t believe it! You know, we got to Manchester yesterday and the student union was dead ’cos no-one was there but it was sold out! Wicked! It’s very exciting, you know.”

Chris Martin, 23, doesn’t drink alcohol, smoke cigarettes or take drugs. He’s pretty unusual. The others? Sure, they like a drink and chug away merrily on Marlboro Lights, but as a band they’re completely anti-cocaine. Chris, too, has a Christian-like zeal about him, as if he’s very much enamoured by life and its myriad opportunities. Tall, eminently engaging and blessed with a dry sense of humour (he slips into a faltering Harry Hill voice when describing sticky situations; his Alan Partridge is fast becoming legendary), Chris was raised in a small Devon village called Whitestone, halfway between Exeter and Okehampton. His mother’s a teacher, father a chartered accountant. His teenage years were spent at public school in Dorset (he won’t say which one – “it’s honest enough to say I went to public school”) but four years in London, at University College, where he read Ancient History, have shaved the aitches from his regionless accent. Chris loves cricket, swimming, “running around in general”. Come to think of it, Chris loves everything. Enquire about the Velcro support on his right wrist and he’ll say, “It’s just for show. I’m trying to be like Jonny Greenwood.”

It was at UCL that he met Will, Jon and Guy. They all lived together in Ramsey Hall, all played instruments and met “just through the standard inane way you meet people in halls”. In their case, that involved such wholesome activities as sitting in stairwells playing Simon & Garfunkel songs and “obscure Irish folk stuff that Will knows”. But that was OK because it was the reason the four came to London in the first place; Will from Southampton, Jon from North Wales and Guy from Canterbury. They all had “real Dick Whittington-type ambitions”, according to Chris: “Go to London, make your fortune. Well, sort of. And when you go to college you’ve got a clean slate, no-one knows who you are and you’ve kind of decided pretty much who you want to be.”

The four bonded over a love of “music that’s quite soulful and emotive. Real. Timeless”; bands like The Flaming Lips, Radiohead, The Verve and Mercury Rev. “In a way,” says Will, “we’ve all been influenced by everything we’ve ever heard.”

Two years ago, they self-financed their debut single, the ‘Safety EP’, and last summer released a single, ‘Brothers & Sisters’, for Fierce Panda. A bidding war ensued, with Parlophone the victors. Sensibly, the lads knuckled down and completed their finals. And now? Well now they’re seen by some as educated middle-class white boys with nothing to say. Which really isn’t far from the truth.

“I hate talking about this. It just doesn’t read well, does it?” says Chris, sipping his OJ and lemonade. “We met when I was busking. Jon came up and he was another busker.

“There was a brilliant advert pinned up the other day,” he says, steering the conversation elsewhere. “It said, ‘Acoustic guitar, good condition, one string broken, £25.’ Hahaha!”

So Chris, are you religious?

“No.”

You seem to have a humanist outlook on life. An unfailing optimism which manifests itself in songs like ‘Everything’s Not Lost’ and ‘Life Is For Living’.

“Yeah, but we all do. None of us are hunters. I eat meat just like anyone else. Kill those cows. I mean, I just… dunno. I just don’t drink. I hate it.”

(Later on, NME tells Chris that an anagram of Chris Martin is Mr Christian. He looks at us with pity).

Have you ever been drunk?

“Yeah, a couple of times. Had a really bad week in our band last year and largely it was my fault – well it was my fault – there was a lack of communication. And to mark the end of this bad, bad week, the worst week ever, I decided I’d get hammered just to make myself even more miserable. It was Guy, Guy was feeding me. I don’t know what it was, all I remember is playing harmonica on the street trying to eat his chips and then just sleeping on their bathroom floor with this weird red stuff. What was that red stuff? Vodka and cranberry…?”

“Ribena,” says Guy.

“…and just feeling really not great and then trying to sleep in Will’s room ’cos he wasn’t there. And it was freezing cold.

“I know it’s not normal not to drink, but I just don’t wanna do it. Why should I have to? Some of our best songs have come out of going home while everyone else is out, just being miserable. But not really. Y’know, I have a great time! I mean, it’s not like I go, ‘Oh I’m not drinking this evening, I’m just gonna read my book.’ I have a brilliant time. I see girls just like everyone else.”

Ask Coldplay if they think it odd that people should listen to what they have to say, that people might even expect them to have something to say, and you’re greeted with a long pause. Lorries roar past. Mobile phones ring.

“Away from the music?” asks Chris. “Yeah, yeah. ’Cos there are people with far better things to say. We’re not orators. It’s interesting. We all enjoy reading about people we like musically. But we’re only young (the others are 22). We’ve got a lot to see and a lot to learn. Reading an interview with Tom Waits now, 30 years into the music and the things he’s done, that’s fascinating. Reading about another new band, it’s gotta be done, it’s not as interesting. In 20 years it’ll be really interesting to talk to us. Come back then.

“We’ve got a long way to go. Haven’t even started yet. It’s weird because there’s not that much to say about us, that’s why I worry because we’re extremely nice blokes and extremely interesting when you get to talk to us properly but, you know, I would be fed up to the back teeth of reading, ‘Oh they met here, are they the new Radiohead?’ Yawn, yawn, yawn, can I go to sleep now please? I find it boring reading about us. But I don’t find it boring listening to us or watching us or getting involved with us.

As if on cue, a white van pulls up outside. ‘Yellow’ blares from the stereo.

Chris shakes his head, smiling. “Listen to the vocals – too quiet. That’s our philosophy: never happy, always aiming for more.”

Later that day, during the show, it’s transparently obvious that Coldplay are far, far more than this year’s next big thing. Even before they’ve taken to the stage, screams and cheers ring out in fevered anticipation. And when they finally arrive, strumming into ‘Spies’, they’re greeted with the kind of rapturous applause traditionally reserved for bands with years more experience and material. On top of a speaker stack, stage right, is Coldplay’s illuminated globe of the world. It travels everywhere with them and appears on the cover of ‘Parachutes’.

“It’s our thing,” said Chris earlier, by way of explanation. And as a modest symbol of the band’s ambition, it couldn’t be more apt.

CHRIS MARTIN ON THE MONTH IT ALL WENT MAD…

How was Glastonbury? “Glastonbury was just brilliant, probably the happiest weekend I’ve ever had. My childhood dreams came true: playing in front of loads of people, getting to sit with Jo Whiley on a bale of hay, getting to see David Gray. It was such a cool experience, so many things going on, so many types of people. It was by miles the biggest gig we’ve played and God, we were nervous. Because we knew it was important for us not to muck it up too badly and we thought we played well. We were determined to be ourselves and not try and conform to any preconceived ideas.

“Badly Drawn Boy was brilliant, and Idlewild. Moby I really enjoyed. I missed The Flaming Lips which I was gutted about. But I also watched Travis who I thought were really good. I think we’re probably the next Travis. I’m going to change my name to Fran. Fran Yorkely. Hehehe!”

Some say you could be headlining next year? “I say, ‘Nonsense.’ Obviously we’d like to be playing in the same slot as Moby but headlining would be too much too soon. You’ve got to have a bit of a history to headline, but similarly it’s got to be of the moment so obviously we don’t want to be first on the Circus Stage. We’ll see how it goes.

“Playing in the daytime, when the pressure’s not so on, you can just enjoy yourselves. We thought we did alright. The more people who have a go at us for just being who we are the more we’ll just be who we are to a higher degree. There’s been some press recently about what I say between songs, but I mean, come on, does it really matter? I really like it when Badly Drawn Boy talks away between songs, it makes you feel like he’s playing for you. Maybe it’s not very rock-starry or whatever but I just can’t stand to see people up there thinking they’re much better than the audience.”

What have you been up to since Glastonbury? “We went to Holland for the first time to do a gig, which was a bit of a comedown really because obviously we’ve done our own tour in England and then Glastonbury and it was like, ‘Yeah, yeah!’, and then we do an industry showcase in Holland. And then we come back through French customs and they had a field day: you know, a rock band on their way back from Amsterdam. It just goes to show that in England we’re not rock’n’roll but everywhere else we’re just the same as everyone else. I’d been running around in the car park before we went through customs so I took my top off and I was sweating and it must have looked so dodgy. So they searched us pretty thoroughly. No rubber gloves though…”

As we write, it looks like ‘Yellow’ will be a Top Ten hit. “Yeah, in Holland we found out the midweek chart positions and we were like, ‘Oh my goodness!’ It’s just amazing! Because we want to get good music back in the charts. Great! We just thought, ‘Great!’ Higher than we expected. You just never know and you try not to be too cocky about things like that. But funnily enough I woke up thinking, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice to be Number Two?’, because so many good records have been Number Two: ‘Bitter Sweet Symphony’, ‘Paranoid Android’, ‘Common People’. Classics.

“We’d like to do something different for Top Of The Pops but, because it’s our first time, we’ll probably just do what they tell us. You’ve gotta wait a while to be subversive.”

Are you and Travis responsible for the death of New Lad? “It’s all bollocks, isn’t it? It’s just good songs with a bit of emotion. People have been doing it for years – since the dawn of history, innit? Nothing wrong with it at all. It’s very earnest to go on about it, though.”

Translator’s Note: I strongly recommend that people should just read the text here rather than attempt to read the scanned pages.

In case you’re wondering, yes, that’s how the pages were physically printed out. The paragraphs that were printed onto the brown parts were readable, but were so blurred to the point that even when magnified up close, my eyes felt the strain in trying to read the words to make sure that I could correct the parts that the OCR couldn’t. Frankly, I’m amazed that such a format was allowed to be mass printed like this and not get complaints from readers.

FREEFALLING INTO PLACE

COLDPLAY PARACHUTES (PARLOPHONE) OUT JULY 10 ★★★★⯪

THERE’S bound to be a few nerves, of course. It’s only natural. But if you trust your instincts, it really couldn’t be easier. Just make the leap, pull the cord and descend safely, while gazing in simple awe at the slowly emerging landscape. Taking your time, thinking things over. “Parachutes” is that beautifully lonely descent, an experience removed from the everyday, but just about within sight of it.

So why worry? New band, pair of brilliant singles and fans piling up faster than Fran’s royalty cheques. No problem. But it’s been a schizophrenic six months for music. Names we’ve made that leap of faith for (Oasis, Ashcroft, Smashing Pumpkins) have let us down, while the underdogs (Embrace, Muse, JJ72) stole the glory. So when you expect the debut Coldplay album to be brilliant, you actually begin to anticipate it being a bit of a let-down. “Shiver” and “Yellow” essential goose-bump material, the rest a bit B-side, right?

Not quite. “Parachutes” is an album where darkness and light work together. Theirs is a twilight world, a collection of shadows and sunbeams. Which doesn’t make it a unique sonic template (Doves do something similar), but it feels like a debut which will make something happen for the next generation of bands. Coldplay’s disregard for bold (and often doomed) statements actually helps to make “Parachutes” such a forcefully mesmerising record. It screams honesty, so that when Chris Martin sings, “And we live in a beautiful world”, on the Marr-meets-Buckley opener, “Don’t Panic”, you sense a magical, uncynical future – starting with the next 42 minutes.

All the songs are blessed with divine acoustic licks, but it’s Jonny Buckland’s pure guitar emotion and Chris’ guiding light voice which make this such a joy. The coldest thing about “Shiver”, a gorgeous one-sided love song, is the title. But it’s actually bettered by “Yellow”, an easy-going mystery of a song with a surging guitar riff and Chris’ most dramatic vocal yet. Otherwise it’s not a huge singles album, but then it doesn’t need to be. Because you’ll want to lose yourself in the youthful paranoia of “Spies”, with its middle-eight from heaven; you’ll need to disappear into the naked, bass-kissed ballad, “Sparks”; and you’ll allow yourself to be abducted by the simple, stark lifestyle manifesto of “We Never Change”. Uniformly fantastic, but not quite as stunning as “Trouble” which starts with a light piano coda, but then Jonny’s guitars chime in and it takes off somewhere else entirely. The surprise of the album, though, is the closing croon “Everything’s Not Lost”, which is almost jazzy. But it’s just further proof of a band who have complete confidence in their own sound.

“Parachutes” isn’t cocaine-lashed rock’n’roll and it isn’t pop music. It’s an eternal groove, a more beautiful reflection of the world as we normally see it. Easily the debut album of the year and very likely a defining musical statement of 2000. Unlikely heroes? Maybe. But super heroes all the same. Go on then! Jump! ANDRE PAINE

CHRIS MARTIN ON ‘PARACHUTES’

EVEN THOUGH IT’S LESS THAN A MINUTE LONG, “PARACHUTES” LENDS ITS NAME TO THE ALBUM. HOW COME? “To be honest we couldn’t find a title. It was either that or ‘Don’t Panic’. Even our band name was a last-minute decision to please a promoter. So ‘Parachutes’ is hardly ‘Deserter’s Songs’, but it seems to fit the mood.”

“EVERYTHING’S NOT LOST” IS A CLASSIC CROON, ISN’T IT? “Totally! When we first played that piano bit, the guy we were working with in the studio said it sounded like [Seventies singer-songwriter] Randy Newman, which we took as a compliment! On songs like ‘Yellow’ and ‘Trouble’, we’re finding our style a bit.”

DO YOU FEEL LIKE YOU’VE MADE A BRILLIANT ALBUM? “I’m at that stage where I can’t listen to it. It’s just amazing that we’ve made a record.”

Translator's Note: There's actually a similar album review of 'Parachutes' on the NME, with an almost similar artwork depicting the band in parachutes too.

THE SKY'S THE LIMIT!

COLDPLAY

THE NEW MEN WHO...

Coldplay on the front cover of NME (July 8th, 2000)

‘YELLOW’ FEVER!

COLDPLAY STORM THE CHARTS

COLDPLAY stormed into the singles chart this week at Number Four with “Yellow”, on the back of a triumphant Saturday appearance at Glastonbury.

And singer Chris Martin told The Maker that the placing was “amazing… a victory for indie music. It’s just good songs coming back.”

He added: “It’s all too easy to say that the guitar bands are coming back to the charts. It’s not a guitar band – it’s just a proper song. We don’t want to get carried away but, as much as we want to be cynical, we’re just made up.”

Bassist Guy Berryman said of his reaction: “Shock… horror! We weren’t really expecting it to do anything like that. We were surprised at the chart placing for ‘Shiver’. That went to Number 34. We were hoping ‘Yellow’ might do a bit better than that. We thought, if we were lucky, we might scrape into the Top 20, but this was beyond our wildest dreams. It’s quite a lot to live up to…”

Both Chris and Guy gave much of the credit to Radio 1 for playing the song, with Chris adding: “With bands like us doing well, maybe others like Badly Drawn Boy and JJ72 will get more radio play and more attention.”

Chris, introducing “Yellow” at the festival, told the huge crowds who had assembled to watch the band that even if they didn’t sing along with the song this time, they would be singing next year.

Coldplay would then emerge as this year’s Travis – the breakthrough band who would return in triumph, amid mass sing-alongs, next Glastonbury.

Not that that’s a comparison the band enjoy.

“I’m thinking of changing my name to Fran…” said Chris.

Shortly after coming offstage at Glastonbury, Chris told The Maker that the performance had been a real physical experience.

He said: “I got a really nervous, adrenalin rush from finishing playing, all this hyperactivity. I got so tense and nervous before we played and then it was all over really quickly. Your body is just really confused by the whole experience. After we played, I was just wandering around, waffling nonsense and spotting celebrities. It was great, man, really great. I’m a West Country boy. I used to go to school near here, and I’d just dream of going to Glastonbury.

“We really wanted to play ‘Yellow’ well, with a bit of soul, cos we knew that there’d be a lot of attention on it. The last couple of times we played it were absolutely rubbish.”

Guy added: “It was amazing to play in front of that many people on such a nice day. I was really nervous for about the first three songs, but then I started feeling really comfortable with it. It was so nice looking over to the horizon and seeing all those people in front of us.”

The Coldplay set, at 3pm on the Other Stage, was pretty much the whole “Parachutes” album. “Shiver” went down very well, although it was “Yellow” that really got everyone going.

However, the slower, more acoustic stuff sounded impressively big and marked an improvement in the band’s live set over the last couple of months.

Chris engaged in a lot of friendly banter between songs, which enhanced his relationship with the audience.

Departing, Coldplay performed a cover of “You Only Live Twice”, stating that, “This is our tribute to Robbie Williams” – who used a sample from it in “Millennium”.

Talking about “Yellow”, Chris later admitted that his feelings were confused.

He said: “I can’t tell if it's good or bad. I feel too close to it. At some stages, I feel it’s the best thing we’ve ever done. I dunno, I’m sure everyone goes through it. What’s amazing for us is that we’ve just managed to get it together.

“Everything is like this incredible schoolboy dream. But we know the success and the hype and everything isn’t going to last, so we’re just enjoying it.”

Told the news about “Yellow”’s chart position, Coldplay fans were jubilant.

Mark Stacey (19), from Redditch, said: “At last there is a ray of hope for all indie bands out there. It’s a triumph for good music, and they’ve done it only using a non-formatted CD. Take note, Travis and Stereophonics. We need more new bands to make this impact if we want good music back in the charts.”

Sanna (19), from Dudley, commented: “I loved these guys from the first time I heard ‘Shiver’ and knew they were destined for big things. But I hope they don’t go down the Travis route to fame.”

Gaz (33), from Rochester, said: ““Yellow” is the best thing they’ve done to date and the best indie guitar single so far this year. I thought they were good at Glastonbury, but I wish he’d stop talking between songs. He’s too friendly. It’s a bit scout-hut. He should leave a bit of mystery.”

●Coldplay appear instore at the HMV store in London’s Oxford Street at 8.30pm on July 10, the day of release of their “Parachutes” album. They will perform and sign copies of the album.

TOUR STORY 2

‘THIS TOUR’S ABOUT FRESH BLOOD’

Terris & Coldplay: young, hungry and ready. NME joins them on the road.

Text: James Oldham Photography: Roger Sargent

“I DON’T GIVE A SHIT WHAT BOBBY GILLESPIE SAYS… WELL, OK, I DO AND I DON’T LIKE SWEARING. OH GOD. THAT’S BOUND TO BE THE BIT THEY PULL.” – CHRIS, COLDPLAY

We meet at 11am, Tuesday, March 14, King’s Cross, London. Chris Martin, singer with Coldplay, has a question: “Has anyone got any snow? Because if we haven’t got snow, I think we should forget it.”

You join NME one road down from Pentonville Prison. The reason? Terris and Coldplay, two bands who lap together musically like oil and water, are about to undertake a four-week, 22-date route march across provincial Britain – and NME is travelling to the first gig with Coldplay. Last night, they played with Ocean Colour Scene (“good band”), the night before that their second Parlophone single, ‘Shiver’, entered the Top 40. Wide-eyed and slightly pensive, they’re keen to “get this show on the road” (and obviously, they were joking about the drugs).

Nine hours later, Coldplay step onstage at the Nottingham Social and start to pick their way through a beautiful new song called ‘Yellow’ – and it’s overwhelming. Like Travis, they’re distilling a raw, feminised passion into this rush of melodious power. And despite looking like an accident in an Oxfam shop (Chris has got a Rhino Rescue T-shirt and a sunflower guitar strap, the rest of the band look like an advert for C&A casuals), they’re sucking the capacity crowd along with them. When the song ends, Chris is hopping from foot to foot, eyes shut, mouthing “C’mon” over and over, while the crowd stares silently on. As starts of tours go, it’s astonishing.

Coldplay formed at University College London four years ago, first just Chris and guitarist Jonny Buckland and then later bassist Guy Berryman and drummer Will Champion. Their manifesto from the start was simple: they wanted to move people. And after just two EPs, the first self-financed, the other on Fierce Panda, they signed to Parlophone, and were swiftly heralded as either the saviours of British guitar music or, less charitably, a tenth-rate rip-off of Jeff Buckley. Back in their hotel, Chris – a wide-eyed fount of bubbling enthusiasm and dry confusion – is attempting to explain why.

“I just know what music can do for me,” he beams. “It makes me feel… all funny. I always just think how amazing it must be for any composer who writes a piece of music that makes you feel really happy or really charged. I just wanted to be making it rather than just receiving it. Know what I mean?”

He stares over at us, like an evangelical Christian mid-sermon, and continues: “What four people can do to people is amazing. Richard Ashcroft’s a really talented bloke, you know, but The Verve, well, that’s something else. There’s a magic between four people, that’s what The Verve had and that’s what we’ve got. We’ve already affected people. The other day there was an ad in the back of a magazine, someone wanting to form a group, and they listed us as an influence. Imagine that. It’s mad. They’re already looking for the next Coldplay.”

Some people are still trying to get to grips with the first one. Coldplay appear so wilfully guileless that they’ve already caused offence in the more cynical sections of the music press. Depending on who you care to believe, they’re either middle-class fakers or Radiohead wannabes. In other words, the enemy.

“Who cares, man?” asks Chris, scraping his fingers through his hair. “I take magazines home and read them, and think, ‘Oh no, someone else thinks we’re like Radiohead or Jeff Buckley or whoever. Then we start playing… and it just doesn’t matter. I mean, who cares where the bus has come from, it’s where it’s going that matters. I think it’s funny. Genesis were a middle-class band and no-one ever complained about them.”

He looks up innocently.

“I’m just thinking about the music. When ‘Shiver’ charted, it felt great. It was like a reward for having stuck with it. It’ll be like that when we release our fifth album in six years’ time and it gets X out of ten. We’ll just be happy because we stuck through it.”

You’re talking about what Bobby Gillespie calls careerist rock’n’roll. You know, all that stuff about five albums down the line…

“I don’t give a shit what Bobby Gillespie says,” Chris snaps, slightly flustered. “Well, I do and I don’t like swearing. I respect the guy. Please don’t put that bit in. This is the sort of thing that spoils interviews for me. Oh God, please don’t quote me on that. That’s bound to be the bit they pull out. This is the only thing I’ve got a complex about: the fact that we don’t have a spoken manifesto. I live for this band, it’s all I ever think about. I hate interviews sometimes. Journalists are so hard to impress.”

He gets up.

“I think I better go to bed.”

The second wing of this tour are Terris. If you’ve read or heard anything about them, you’ll know they’re not exactly prone to similar doubts. The first time NME spots them is at the soundcheck before the Nottingham show. Their singer Gavin Goodwin (dressed like Paddington Bear, but with the look of an assassin) is crouched onstage clasping his hands together in prayer.

Suddenly he leaps to his feet. As a ferocious, spiney noise starts to flood from the amps his body convulses into a juddering flicker of fly-swatting kung fu, his face contorts and he starts spewing words into an empty room. When he does the same thing for an audience later on that evening, the effect will be devastating, a hall full of sceptics suddenly finding their defences smashed to pieces.

It’s only been a couple of months since Gavin and the rest of his group (drummer Owen Matthews, guitarist Alun Bound and keyboardist Neil Dugmore) released their first sensationally insurrectionary EP – ‘The Time Is Now’. It’s been the same amount of time since they graced the NME cover, announcing their presence with an arc-lite bombing assault on every major band in Britain. And since then, they’ve been learning to live with it.

For four frighteningly intense men in their early-20s, being tipped as the “21st-century Joy Division” has had its share of repercussions – especially back in Wales, where the local press was quick to seize on statements like “I don’t give a fuck about Wales” and “it’s c—s like Tom Jones and Shirley Bassey who made it embarrassing to come from Wales” as evidence of treason.

“The local tabloids got the wrong end of the stick and thought we’d said we were ashamed to be Welsh,” glares Gavin at his drink. “Which isn’t what we said and isn’t how we feel. They ran a big story saying, ‘Best New Band In Wales Slag Tom and Shirley’. It was a misinterpretation of what we’d said in the interview. At the end of the day, it was funny.”

And if their local press gave them a hard time, their peers were quick to follow. Seafood, speaking in an NME interview, declared that Terris were unfit to be on the cover after one single, when they personally had been slogging around the country for months.

“I don’t want to even discuss Seafood,” spits Gavin with total disgust. “It seemed like a strange thing for them to say. Why pine for an NME cover?”

“We were on the cover because NME spotted us and thought, ‘Fucking hell’,” reasons Owen. “That’s what they do, that’s their business. We never asked to be on there.”

“We’ve worked as hard as anyone, anyway,” declares Alun. “Who cares how many gigs Seafood have played?”

Are you relieved that you’re finally getting out there to let people judge for themselves?

“Yeah,” agrees Gavin, “because this tour’s about fresh blood. I would rather do this than be a support band for a larger band. This is fresh. It’s a relief to be playing to real people, people who’ve come to see new music.

“And it’s no more nerve-racking for us now than it was when we did our first gigs. It’s not about whether people like us or not. I don’t understand this expectation thing. What have we got to live up to? A photo on a magazine. Or a comment we said. That’s got nothing to do with our music.

“To be honest, I want people to be sceptical. I would be. As long as you don’t form opinions before you arrive, you’ve got to have an open heart and an open mind so that the music can pass through you.”

For Terris, this is their first chance to road-test their bone-shaking sonics. The last time they tried to go on tour (with Royal Trux at the end of last year), they were unceremoniously booted off after just two dates.

“They didn’t know what was going on,” states Owen bluntly.

“We turned up and they were like, (adopts American drawl) ‘Who are you, man?’ They wouldn’t let us share a dressing room and when we did they complained about us smoking dope,” elaborates Neil. “They said we had a bad attitude.”

And have you?

“We are quite intense,” understates Gavin softly, “but that’s because we believe so much in what we do. I think music is about communication, not confrontation. It’s about not feeling alone, it’s about feeling some companionship and understanding and clarity. We don’t just want to hit people over the heads with our songs, we’re just pushing them as close as we can, so people are forced to look.

“We’re invitational, not confrontational.” smiles Owen.

Do you have any heroes that you’re trying to live up to?

Gavin: “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a band live that impresses me. Maybe Primal Scream. I used to go and see a lot of people, but too often it was just a gig. People playing songs you knew, it was really hot and that was about it. I’ve never been to a gig and had a momentous feeling of euphoria or companionship, there’s never been anything life-changing like that for me.”

Do you think this tour will provide moments like that?

“Who knows?” snorts Gavin. derisively, “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“WE’VE GOT SOUL AND HONESTY, BOTH BANDS ARE IN IT FOR THE RIGHT REASONS.” – GAVIN, TERRIS

Wednesday, March 15, 11am. The next morning we step on board a Terris bus bound for Leicester. Four punks in flares, they’re sprawled across the furniture, smoking joints and listening to Sly And The Family Stone’s ‘There’s A Riot Goin’ On’. In the corner, Gavin sits crossed-legged, engrossed in a coverless black book (later revealed to be a Buddhist tract, something to “fill the spiritual void”). After the triumph of the previous night’s show, they’re relaxed and prepared for what lies ahead.

Which is more than can be currently said for Coldplay. When we arrive in Leicester we find Chris, perched on a chair, stewing over a magazine article where Coldplay are castigated as “Radiohead rip-offs” by Ocean Colour Scene bassist Damon Minchella. Despite the fact that his band ended last night’s gig to rapturous awestruck applause, Chris feels let down by it all.

“We put so much into every song we write,” he explains quietly, “and every time we write a song we can actually use, it’s a special moment and you can’t explain it to anyone, you just think it’s the best song ever in the world and to have all those special moments lumped together into one offhand statement that you’re trying to copy someone else really pisses me off. The more we get slagged off, though, the more we’ll just come out with our musical guns blazing.”

He slopes off to relieve his frustrations on an arcade game. Half-an-hour later, his mood seems to have considerably improved. He’s ensconced with Gavin on the top floor of that night’s venue, and he’s discussing just why this tour’s so important.

“When I look around I don’t see many good new bands,” offers Gavin with a sigh. “I think there’s been a void of good bands. There’s a real drought of soulful and honest bands.”

What was the last band that came through that really impressed you?

“I thought Oasis were good,” he admits after prolonged thought. “Well, for their first three singles, they had something special. And then we all know what happened.”

“I like ‘Gas Panic!’ on their new album,” declares Chris brightly, “I think they’re going to get better and better again. I think they’re on a U-shape curve. But then I remember when they first came out I was at school and I couldn’t get into them because I was into Sting. I only really discovered them six months ago, so I’m still on their first album.”

“Lucky you,” interjects Gavin pithily.

“‘Ten Summoner’s Tales’ was the Sting album I liked,” continues Chris, nonplussed. “I led a sheltered musical life.”

Why do you think the press have latched on to you two?

“Like I said earlier, we’ve got soul and honesty. Both bands are in it for the right reasons,” says Gavin.

Chris nods his head: “It’s not because of our politics or any agenda, it’s because people are looking for what’s important in music again.”

Gavin: “I think bands have failed to communicate over the last few years. There’s just been a couple of fairly good records made by fairly good bands. As far as guitar bands go I haven’t been interested in any for a long time. There is great new music, but it comes from the States or it’s stuff like Roots Manuva.”

“I would rather that someone was moved by something we played rather than something we said,” concludes Chris, apropos nothing.

Gavin: “Or something someone else said about you.”

“Yeah,” beams Chris, “that’s it totally. Totally it.”

Later that night, the veracity of such comments is made plain for all to see. Anyone still doubting whether this tour could live up to all its high expectations couldn’t fail to be moved by the performances of both bands.

Coldplay, for all their anti-rock brickbats (they don’t do drugs or drink or make any attempt to play it cool), are captivating. Chris is such a disarming, charismatic frontman and the music they play (whether the space country of ‘Spies’ or the simple acoustic melody of ‘Help Is Round The Corner’) is so open and vulnerable, they simply melt any prejudices an audience arrives with. When they disappear after 40, all-too-brief minutes, there’s a groan of disappointment.

But one that’s quickly relieved by the mania of Terris’ performance. If last night in Nottingham the crowd seemed confused by the jerking intensity of their show, there’s no such problem tonight. From the start, the audience is carried by Gavin’s ferociously wired presence at the centre of the stage. As Alun rips feedback from his guitar, Neil’s pulsating keyboards and Owen’s relentless rhythmic drive combine to punch hard and fast at any fence-sitters. Forthcoming single, ‘Cannibal Kids’, is immense and they end with new song ‘Deliverance’, ten minutes of feverish crescendos that turns the front of the house into a tumultuous moshpit.

It’s enough to convince you that the duration of this tour is going to be something truly special. It’s the spectacle of two contradictory bands (one: effortlessly accessible but emotionally fragile, the other: bullish and bulletproof) combining to produce a night of disparate melodrama. People might be suspicious of NME hyping bands before they’ve had only the briefest chance to establish themselves, but the reason why these two bands are so vital is apparent the moment they take to the stage. It’s the sound of hearts and souls. And simply, it’s the most exciting gig you’ll see all year.

Translator’s Note: Finding and extracting these really old articles is like a glimpse into the younger days of a band. It’s also a glimpse of other bands that were thought to have potential back then, before they became an obscurity as time marches forward. Terris is just one of those bands that didn’t make it.

And to think, in just less than 2 years after they were featured on the front cover of the NME in January and this article was published in 2000, Terris had broken up after low sales and negative reviews on their latest single, and got ditched by their label company. Hell, even the other bands mentioned in the article are no longer active since the late 2000s.

And the only reason someone would even know of Terris in the year of 2026, is because I was just looking for really old Coldplay articles to scan and Terris just happened to be co-headlining a tour with Coldplay. It’s a bittersweet thing, but it is what it is. Things just happen later on and then –poof!– some artist/band you knew is no longer active in the scene.

"My friend, they're starting to forget you.”