Anyone wondering how a band as insipid as Coldplay has wormed its way into the "best band in the world" debate needed only glance around the Grand Garden Arena last Friday night. Just in the seats neighboring mine I witnessed poker pro Howard Lederer, his wife and prepubescent son singing along, a gray-haired couple pumping their fists, 20-something hotties passing a joint and middle-aged dudes chugging beers and high-fiving. In other words, Coldplay is the new every-band.
Not that there's anything wrong with appealing to everyone. Better that folks are obsessed with the competent, occasionally radiant British quartet than with American-made dreck such as Creed, the Goo Goo Dolls or Nickelback. And maybe for some, Coldplay can be a gateway drug to rock outfits far more imaginative and deserving of fanatacism.
On its own merits, though, Coldplay simply isn't accomplished enough to warrant the praise heaped on it, to say nothing of selling out arenas as the band did in Las Vegas, drawing some 14,000 fans for $40 to $90 a pop. Often pegged as a watered-down Radiohead, Chris Martin & Co. actually came off more like a third-rate U2, performing several numbers that could have been easily discarded outtakes from The Unforgettable Fire sessions.
Coldplay's best songs—the ballad "The Scientist," the piano-punctuated "Clocks" and the Kraftwerk riff-nicked "Talk"—sounded as they do on CD, crisp and safe. The rest, from a three-song acoustic bit to a quick dip into the Killers' "I've got soul but I'm not a soldier" refrain, was plagued by ordinary musicianship, a frequently murky mix and an overall sound that lacked any edge whatsoever.
The same couldn't be said for opener Fiona Apple, who delivered her venomous lyrics with more intensity than a 5-foot, 100-pound frame should, by rights, be capable of. Moving between a midstage piano and a mic up front, she appeared genuinely tortured by the entire experience, as if she'd unwittingly led the audience into a dark region of her soul.
Following that was no easy task for Coldplay, particularly since—Martin explained—they were feeling nervous coming off of their first face-to-face with the Killers prior to showtime. Surely, contenders for best band in the world couldn't be staggered by little old Brandon Flowers, could they?