by Malcolm Toogood

Created on: December 22, 2008

After a three-year break from doing anything, Coldplay are back with their fourth studio album. Commercially, it will inevitably be a huge success, as, over the years, have all albums released by the most popular bands of the day, whether they deserve to be or not. But can it achieve the same level of success creatively as their first three did?

The PR-blitz before this album was released during the summer of 2008, told us to expect a different direction from the band this time, and also that they considered the first three albums as a trilogy, of sorts. So after the little teaser with the free-download release of Violet Hill', we, the record-buying public, waited with bated breath for the whole thing, before all rushing-out on release-day to take it home to listen; didn't we?

Well actually, in this on-line world, most buyers download the tracks on release day, and those dinosaurs who don't download at all, like myself, pre-order so that the CD will drop through our letterbox on the day. Those sales, combined with the downloads, enabled the same PR-machine to declare on release day that it was the "fastest-selling record in UK history", conjuring-up images of queues around the block at the local record store, when the truth was nearer that it was probably simply only the fastest-delivered record of all time, the sales having been steadily built-up over previous weeks.

Had we queued in the pouring rain (it was summer here in the UK, remember), we would have rushed home to hear . well, not a lot really. Not that there's anything wrong with this album, far from it; it's as musically-accomplished as ever. The difference this time, however, is quite a lot more subtle than the marketing hype suggested.

On the first three albums, the songs were instant and often inspirational; they were so immediately-familiar that you were almost singing-along on the first play. Certainly by the third play, you were at karaoke standard. That's why a Coldplay gig is such an amazing experience, as most of the time the crowd sings to the band, as opposed to the traditional method, so much so that Chris Martin is often moved to just stop singing himself, and point the microphone out into the spotlight beams.

"Viva La Vida" still holds some of that musical instant-familiarity, but this time you're not singing along; neither do the tracks stay with you to the point that you just have to put the album on again. Maybe it's the darker subject matter of some of the tracks, the sub-title of the album being Death and All his Friends', which is also the title of the final track. But somehow, I just don't see myself telling my mates in the pub that I had been belting-out Cemeteries of London' with another 20,000 voices at the gig at the weekend!

After all, what is anthemic about lines like Those who are dead are not dead, they're just living in my head', or Bury me in honour when I'm dead and hit the ground'; or worse still For some reason I can't explain, I know St Peter won't call my name'? Whatever happened to Look at the Stars, look how they shine for you, and all the things you do'?

It's a good album, very good in parts, but it's not the world-shattering event that the boys tried to persuade us that it should have been. Worse still, unfortunately, it's morbid, and right now, with the world in the mess that it's gotten itself into, we need to be uplifted by our entertainers, not have our noses rubbed in a load more brown-stuff by a bunch of depressed millionaires who are so comfortable, they are only inspired now by negative sentiments.

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