Live Review: Coldplay

It’s not all work and no play around here. Yes, I love me the politics, but I’m also a part-time music geek. And with that serving as my only qualification, I’m glad to offer my impressions of a recent Coldplay concert. I’m not familiar with much of Coldplay’s output, but a friend offered me his ticket to last night’s show, and who turns down a free concert?

I arrived at the arena late but still absolutely stoked for a good dose of live rock ‘n’ roll. I darted through the crowded concourse and bought a huge tub of popcorn and a box of Red Vines. After lecturing the staff at the beer stand for neglecting to supply High Life, I found my way to my seat. The sizeable crowd was just filling up after the opening act, so I knew it wouldn’t be too long until the band hit the stage.

After about 15 minutes the house went dark and the crowd started going crazy. My mouth was stuffed full of licorice but I stood up and cheered along with the diehard fans. Then shadows crossed the stage and another burst of crowd noise rose from the front of the arena. This was it: Coldplay were about to kick it.

A moment later the stage lights fired up and I could hear the opening notes mixing with the approval of a frantic crowd. It was either piano or guitar or both, but I found it difficult to discern because I sensed a powerful wooziness roll through my body. I was so stunned by the insurrection in my gut that my vision crossed up. A moment later the sounds all around me slowed down to a blur and an acute pain stabbed my groin, growing sharper with every breath.

Naturally, all I could think to do was spit out the licorice and get the fuck out of there, but not having any reasonable place or receptacle in which to spit, I just tried to chew through the pain. An excited young woman to my right started screaming “It’s Yellow! It’s Yellow! It’s Yellow!” and her boyfriend put his arm around her. They cuddled a bit while violent pangs of nausea bubbled up from my stomach. I could feel my knees buckling. I tried to put my hand on the seat in front of me, I tried to wipe the sweat that was gathering on my face, I tried to finish chewing the licorice, but I knew I was a goner.

Meanwhile Chris Martin’s voice was ringing out of the band’s amplifiers. Absolute pain the likes of which I've never experienced slammed into me. My body convulsed, I heard the words “Look at the stars, look how they shine…,” just as I felt my legs go limp and my body start to fall, my face crashing into the seatback in front of me. I lost consciousness for a moment, but when I regained a trace of my senses all I noticed were half-eaten Red Vines and a riot of light and noise fading to black.


Nurses at the emergency room told me I was a great patient. I don’t remember the ambulance or my first two hours at the hospital, but the EMTs reported that I pepped up as soon as I was wheeled out of the arena. After about 12 hours of rest and the occasional check-in by hospital staff, I was released to a friend who took me home. I’ve been cozy ever since with Netflix and a diet of applesauce, vanilla wafers, and tea. Funny how after all these years I still find Rocky and Bullwinkle amusing.