Coldplay’s ‘Viva La Vida’ playback…

May 02 2008 12:05 pm, JJ Dunning

Right then, here we are, bundled into a very-well-to-do listening room in the legendary Abbey Road studios, North London. We’re here to listen to the new Coldplay album, which we’d definitely tell you about in more detail if there wasn’t a reviews embargo on it. So I’m afraid this will be more about the experience of going to listen to a (very odd) new album.

 

Other people who are here for the playback include some MTV bods and a very long and slender woman who works for a new magazine that shall remain nameless but sounds SHIT. She’s also rather privileged, an example of which will now be provided.

You see, us being free music press plebs (Me, Johnny K & Harriet Gibbo are in attendance from The Fly), we venture immediately to the buffet, stuffing our mouths (and, slyly, our pockets) with all the free stuff (there’s even a bowl full of ice and BOOZE! Can’t touch that though… not at this time of the morning, although we’re sorely tempted…). It’s a truly incredible spread, right down to the small sausages in baps, jugs of OJ and tiny little breakfast pastries. As we stand, jaws agape, looking at this incredible mountain of food, slender posh mag lady (who to be fair, was very friendly) strides past all the grub and into the EN SUITE KITCHEN and starts kicking off about there not being any coffee!

 

You get the impression that if you gave her a sports holdall with a million quid in it, she’d start complaining that you hadn’t put it in a Prada handbag.

 

Anyway… on with the bits of the playback that we’re allowed to tell you about…

 

First off there’s a short documentary about the making of ‘Viva La Vida or Death And All His Friends’ and, in keeping with the rest of today’s audio-visual experience, it’s VERY VERY PANT-MESSINGLY LOUD.

 

Admittely, in my last blog, I professed a love for all things loud. Well, it didn’t take long for that statement to come back and bite me in the balls, did it?

 

A six foot high Chris Martin face appears on the massive telly, and it starts speaking in a room-shaking tone that gives the impression that THIS MUST BE THE VOICE OF GOD HIMSELF, “We started writing this record the day that we finished ‘X&Y’, because we felt reinvigorated.” it booms, as windows shatter and planes hurtle uncontrollably from the sky, “We even, and I’m not scared to say this, jammed a bit. Yep, we had a jam. So what? Sue us!” Sue God? How? We’re pretty sure there was a film about that and it was crap.

 

Then another enormous man appears on the screen, but this one is wearing some truly terrible Mark Knopfler-like trousers, coupled with short, curly, Michael Jackson-‘Bad’-era hair and a ponsy little earring. OH MY GOD! THAT’S GUY BERRYMAN!! The Fly’s Harriet looks absolutely horrified. This man was the love of her teenage life. He now looks like Swampy the eco warrior. The enormous bad-trousered figure now speaks in the same earth’s-crust-cracking voice: “[producer Brian Eno taught us that] any seed of an idea, no matter how small, can turn into something impressive. [He] encouraged us to explore our ideas.” Yeah, and Kevin Rowland’s wardrobe, by the look of it. Urrgh!

 

And then we’re ready to get our hair blown off by the enormo-speakers as ‘Viva La Vida’ strides into life…

 

In one word, our review of the album is [snip snip – The-Fly.co.uk lawyers].

 

Ok legal team, we’ll try that again…

 

In one word, our review of the album is EMBARGOED.

 

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