Culture Blues

Album Review: “Mylo Xyloto” – Coldplay

Mylo Xyloto - Coldplay

I always knew this moment would come. Ever since I started writing reviews for the glowing beacon of pop culture opinion known as Culture Blues I have feared the day when a new Coldplay album would be released, and I would be forced to listen to it, only to have to distill my disgust into coherent sentences. I know there are some of you out there who have already taken offense with the tone used in the first few sentences of this review and, I must warn you super-fans, it is going to get a lot worse.

What’s left to say about the bloated and uninspired black hole of musicality that calls itself Coldplay? Ever since they exploded onto the scene at the dawn of the millennium with the single Yellow (that song that the girls you knew back in 2000 were all into), they have relentlessly released some of the most banal and anemic "rock and roll" that the proletariat (you know, those people you don't want to have drinks with) has ever loved. Over the course of their career this English four-piece have consistently lowered the bar of artistic expression through the manipulation of airwaves, to the point where some poor human beings have been fooled into believing that the band possesses appeal, depth, originality and, worst of all, talent. Now they are back with Mylo Xyloto (if you know how to pronounce that, we probably wouldn’t like each other), a “concept” record which, by some accounts, is meant to reinvent the band and their sound as they move into the next phase of their assault career.

Before I go any further, I would like to point out that I do appreciate one song in the Coldplay catalog, and it’s The Scientist, which is proof positive that a great song can be appreciated by anyone, even a devout loather of your work. See, this isn’t all about hatred.

Now, back to the hatred.

Because Coldplay has risen to worldwide fame they have earned several perks which are reflected in their current album making process- I would like to take a moment to point out that level of fame has nothing at all to do with talent or merit. Some examples of this postulation are: the entire cast of Jersey Shore, the Black Eyed Peas, and anyone that had a music career after a show on the Disney Channel. My apologies for that digression, I’m having a hard time keeping all of my various trains of malice-filled thought on schedule. One perk of being multi-platinum purveyors of aural tripe is that you can get whomever you like to produce your albums. This carte blanche has resulted in the enlisting of beyond-legendary sonic luminary Brain Eno as producer of Mylo Xyloto (it should be noted that Eno also produced Viva La Vida, a record I refuse to listen to). I could go on a rant about how Coldplay is so adamant about ruining everything that they want to sully the name of the great Brian Eno but, let’s be real, Eno can’t be sullied. Once Eno was locked in, the band decided to record Mylo Xyloto in a church (like Tim Hecker did, only with far less awesome), and the rest is, um... what it is, I guess.

Mylo Xyloto is a concept record about two young people who live in a dystopian urban environment, meet each other, and fall in love. If that sounds familiar to you, it’s because that is also the plot of the incredible David Comes To Life by Fucked Up (don’t worry Fucked Up, this band steals, plagiarizes, and co-opts so much, that no one takes them seriously, though I am sure it is quite frustrating that Mylo Xyloto will sell more records than David Comes To Life, while not being half as good). Chirs Martin has been quoted as saying that this record was inspired by “old-school American graffiti" and the television show The Wire; thankfully, this record can’t ruin either of those things.

Coldplay opens  up the spectacle with an orchestral title track which I’m assuming is meant to set the stage, but all it does is vaguely remind me of the opening of David Comes To Life, though with much more sheen, because the aforementioned Eno is involved. The first proper song on the record is a somewhat new-wave number called Hurts Like Heaven, which moves decently and possesses a fair amount of energy. The songs flaws are mostly relegated to Martin, but even he isn’t at his worst, though “you use your heart as a weapon/ and it hurts like heaven” leaves just about everything to be desired.

Next is Paradise, a song that  contains pretty much everything I hate about Coldplay. On Paradise you can hear a band that is simply trying to catch up with electronic elements that have become a part of the sonic landscape since they last released an album, while not managing to capture anything of worth. This contrived inspiration is without a doubt one of the worst things about Coldplay. Once they finish putting on the clothes that the kids are wearing these days, Coldplay settles back into their comfort zone of pretend, insisting that they are The Killers on the track Charlie Brown, except, you know, with a Coldplay twist, which is something that I am pretty sure no one wanted. Us Against The World comes up next and it is without a doubt the most Coldplay-like song that the album has offered thus far, which I assume is why it is the most boring as well.

By the time I listen to the first single, Every Tear Drop Is A Waterfall, I am halfway through this “concept-record.” The narrative is anything but clear, if it’s truly present at all, though I could just be nitpicking; why would a concept-record need a narrative?

I was surprised when it took eight tracks to find the first Radiohead rip-off; I was afraid that maybe Coldplay had forgotten where it came from for a moment, but Major Minus was just what I expected it would be. It’s Radiohead all right, but not their latest incarnation (they try that a bit later with In Flames, and it's laughable), instead it’s Radiohead from Hail To Thief which is still better than Coldplay from any era. After Major Minus, there is another awful ballad to endure, before what could be described as the album’s best track, Princess Of China. Princess Of China is not a song that I will find myself listening to, like, ever, but its inclusion of Rihanna and the Eno-provided production make it a great little pop-song, and the record's finest moment. That's enough of the play-by-play.

If you were looking forward to hearing this record before you read my review, then I doubt it has changed your opinion. You should go ahead and purchase Mylo Xyloto from iTunes and, while you’re at it, get on line at the biggest arena your city possesses and wait for the inevitable world tour that will accompany its release. If you were dreading this record before you read this review, then your worst fears have been confirmed and I deserve a medal for listening to this so that you won’t have to. If you are in the middle, thenI suggest you form an opinion soon, you indecisive reader you, and that opinion should be that this band is awful and their latest record is not worth your time.