Truly Madly Deeply

I admit it. I shout it from the rooftops. I love Coldplay. This remains true no matter how many of my friends roll their eyes in response to this hitherto well-concealed fact. What can I say? I've seen some amazing concerts: Prince (on the Purple Rain tour, no less), the Pixies, Moby, Throwing Muses, Bob Dylan (whom I stalked through the streets of Toulouse, France), James (with Radiohead as the opening act), the Smiths, the Pogues, etc. Coldplay are easily one of the best live acts I've ever seen. Who knew?

Meanwhile my friends propose worthy gigs like the world's foremost Colombian classical flamenco guitarist or a transvestite refugee who plays operatic hymns on the noseflute or various rock groups they consider more authentic (read: bands that flaunt their lack of success as if success were inversely proportional to talent). I don't want worthy. Music is not wheat germ, it's not grad school, it's not public service. I want to lose my mind with enthusiasm. I don't take drugs, I take music instead. Coldplay songs take flight and take me with them. And Chris Martin, in addition to being a bit of alright (several bits, actually) if you like tall skinny smart funny pale sensitive articulate dudes--and I like nothing more!--Mr. Martin, anyway, exuded so much in the way of warmth and good spirits that if I could've recharged my phone batteries off him, they would've lasted until Christmas at least.

I suppose it helped that our tickets were in the sixth row. This alone was amazing, but my objective at any gig is to get as close to the stage as possible. Or on it: being thrown off the stage is my specialty. At Coldplay, it turned out there was an orchestra pit between us and stage; it was heavily guarded by bouncers and everyone in it had day-glo wristbands to indicate that they had paid something like a mortgage payment to be there. (Note to self: bring spare day-glo wristbands next time I go to this venue). There were bouncers everywhere--the last time I saw that much security was at a John Kerry speech a week before the election. So, I ended up in the pit, at the center, with only two people between me and Chris Martin. What with Coldplay being the quote-unquote "biggest band in the world," this took two attempts (will being hauled out of orchestra pits become one of my sub-specialties?). The second attempt worked because I invested twenty minutes in watching the bouncers out of the corners of my eyes, waiting for the one microsecond in which none were looking in my direction to instantly execute a horizontal roll over a four-foot steel wall, like a marine under fire, and fall sideways into the pit onto various painful obstacles. Photos to follow, if they turn out.