Coldplay - The Fillmore, May 4, 2005

As I sat back and watched the masses riot over the few available tickets to Coldplay's gig at the Fillmore on Wednesday, I struggled to restrain myself from gloating about the fact that I had scored a pair through a fortunate personal connection. For one, I was deathly afraid of jinxing it and watching the tickets fall through. But I also felt a little guilty about going to a show when so many die hard fans willing to sell their right nut/left ovary for a chance to go were left out in the cold. Luckily, I'm pretty selfish and that guilt lasted about 2 minutes.

As the day of the show approached, it took a bit of effort to get into the proper frame of mind to appreciate what was a pretty unique opportunity. I felt like I needed to spend a good day or two listening to the Coldplay catalog to remind myself why I became drawn to the band in the first place because, while I'm still a fan, I haven't exactly been a 'practicing' fan in a little while.

My CD player had Coldplay in permanent rotation back in 2003 when 'A Rush of Blood to the Head' was released, and it killed me when I had to skip their Shoreline show that year because of a prior commitment. I marveled at the way their songs could elicit such strong emotions and the way they carved out such a distinct sound, one that played well across gender and demographic. Sure, they were a bit waily and saccharine at times, but it felt genuine.

But somewhere in the time between my discovery of the band and their ascent high into the arena rock stratosphere, I forgot about Coldplay. I began discovering other, younger, edgier bands and listening to Coldplay with increasing rarity, occasionally turning the channel when 'The Scientist' or 'Clocks' came on the radio for the 13,405th time.

Still, the madness surrounding the buzz gig helped to rekindle a lot of the old enthusiasm I had for the band. I couldn't help but get caught up in the craziness and the feeling that this was an event of some significance, or at least a pretty rare experience. If people were willing to change dirty old man diapers or hand someone the keys to their car for a chance to go, I should probably feel pretty fortunate for getting to go at face value.

Standing in the long line at the Fillmore prior to the show, there was a definite energy in the air that represented the end of a long, strange trip. Some stubborn, determined folks walked up and down the line all but begging for tickets, but with 20 minutes to go until showtime, defeat began to show on their faces. And it was at that moment I began busting out my best Nelson Muntz laugh ("HA ha!").

Inside the Fillmore, there was a mix of people slightly different than the standard rock show attendees; more yuppie-types and girls in F-me pants and fewer concert tee-wearing fanatics. With tickets going for $500 - $1,000, this wasn't overly surprising. I'm not enough of a live music purist to get really worked up about that kind of stuff, but I can imagine some of the more hardcore fans - particularly the ones who coughed up two weeks' pay for a ticket - were foaming at the mouth at the sight of some of the stuffed shirts in attendance.

The band took the stage at 9:00 to rousing but not overwhelming cheers. It was clear that the crowd was energized in anticipation of the set, but I think I had expected something a little more riotous.

They opened with 'Square One' from the new album, a nice song but not a real grabber. It took the first few crashing cymbals of 'Politik' to get the crowd going. And from there, they didn't let up.

Mixing in old and new, they stormed through a fairly brief 80-minute set. Their debut album, 'Parachutes', was the least represented of the three albums, with only a stellar 'Yellow' and a brief, endearingly flubbed version of 'Don't Panic' making the cut. The tracks from 'AROBTTH' drew the biggest reaction from the crowd, none more so than the played to death but still fantastic 'Clocks'.

They sampled heavily from the new album, playing 7 songs in all. I often need to hear new songs a few times before I can pass judgment on them, and none of the new ones played Wednesday immediately jumped out at me. The hazard of having such a clearly defined sound is that, at least upon first listen, new material tends to sound the same as the old. I wouldn't say there are any real sonic surprises among the new songs, but there are no stinkers, either. 'A Message' and 'What If', as well as 'White Shadows' from the L.A. gig in March, seem like winners.

The band sounded fantastic, despite what seemed to be a fairly muddy Fillmore system. Chris Martin's voice was strong and every bit as crisp as it is on the albums. Lead guitarist Jon Buckland was dead on with all of his solos (save for the 'Don't Panic' flub) and Will Champion's drum work shone during percussion-driven songs like 'Politik' and 'God Put A Smile Upon Your Face.'

The most indelible impression I took away from the concert was the professionalism and confidence with which the band performed. That may translate as 'boring' to some, but it shouldn't. So many bands perform as though they've just read the "Live Rockers' Handbook", with practiced poses and predictable, "I love this fucking town!"-style banter (see Bravery, The). The bands who get it realize that when the music's good, the performance speaks for itself. You don't need to light your guitar on fire or play the drums with your cock - you just need to convince the audience that you're giving them everything, that music represents more than just a way to make a living. It's a sign of musical maturity as much as anything, which is why U2 is fairly incapable of putting on a bad show at this point.

For Coldplay, the live experience begins and ends with Martin, who effortlessly exudes likability and moves around the stage with purpose, if not intensity. His gyrations (such as his human second hand during 'Clocks') can be a little out there but never feel contrived. He easily and confidently interacted with the crowd, something that many bands seem uncomfortable or unwilling to do but which adds so much to the concert experience. In an intimate setting like The Fillmore, it played particularly well as he expressed genuine gratitude for the fans' support and dealt admirably with an annoying chick who kept shouting "I love you, Chris!" and "You rock!" as though she invented the Annoying Wannabe Groupie act.

No rock show is worth $1,000, nor a prosthetic leg, nor a car, nor.....etc. But it's hard to imagine anyone left the Fillmore on Wednesday disappointed by Coldplay's performance. The crowd was treated to a rocking, intense, thoroughly enjoyable set from a band that may never again be able to play in a 1,200 seat venue without inciting a full-scale riot. The aptly named gig certainly generated its share of "buzz", but in the end it was hardly necessary. Coldplay's music speaks for itself, and loudly at that.

Here's the complete setlist:

Square One
Politik
God Put A Smile Upon Your Face
Speed of Sound
Warning Sign
Yellow
Low
The Scientist
Don't Panic (abbreviated)
Till Kingdom Come
Clocks
What If

Encore:
A Message
In My Place
Fix You