I
t’s been awhile…but we’re back.
Waxing philosophic about the epic fail that is Metro Bank, the new iPhone is ninety nine bucks, things are quicker now– thirty minutes or less, are we too old to buy stuff at Ikea? Gay for Coldplay.
Bittersweet.
Bitter, probably, for Chris Martin and Coldplay; sweet, definitely, for me.
It’s funny how a band or a song can take on a whole new meaning…how one may find a new appreciation, energy, color-fast vision of a music based on the company one keeps.
You see, it has been nearly seven years since I purchased tickets and attended a show at Hershey as a consumer fan.
One ill-timed question, an unplanned pregnancy, a flight to Vegas and a foreseeable divorce anchoring this ship to colorful Harrisburg, Pennsylvania can turn a guy’s stomach on the thought of ever listening to and appreciating the Dave Matthews Band again. Or, in this case, Coldplay.
As a lover of most music, I’m not quick to shrug off a band based solely on their rise to success. Normally, I’ll shrug off a band based on a negative association I may carry with said band.
And in the instance of Coldplay- specifically, the album Parachutes- I carried what I realized was a completely unnecessary hatred of everything they represent.
When you boil it all down, they write some great fucking songs.
I don’t know too many people who can’t name three Coldplay songs right off the top of their head. And they could be, arguably, one of the biggest bands in the world right now.
My friend and I decided- somewhat hastily- to go to this show.
I had my trepidations based on the aforementioned negative association.
She just hadn’t seen Coldplay before.
But we went- and scored tickets for twenty bucks apiece outside the gate. Our seats were stage-right, about four rows up in the grandstand. To our right was a couple- she was thirty and celebrating her birthday; he was around forty and spoiling his girl.
To our left was a pair of (what can’t be described any other way than) two old ladies. In front, a small family. And behind us was a gaggle of couples. Mostly in their mid-twenties. But mostly couples.
It was certainly a couples-kind-of-show.
After weathering the forty-five minute rainstorm, we went into the antiquated Hersheypark Stadium, met up with some friends who razzed me accordingly (“Dude. What the hell is Jersey Mike doing at a COLDPLAY show?!” and, the most common heard razz of the week “Know how I know you’re gay?”) and two-fisted some delicious Shock Top beers.
And from the moment we sat down, I remembered that perception really is everything.
For years…YEARS…I perceived Coldplay in a negative light. I associated what’s really a great band with an unfortunate time in my life. Self-deprecatingly, I denied myself the pleasures of Politik and The Scientist and God Put A Smile Upon Your Face and Everything’s Not Lost.
But I remembered- on a warm and rainy night in May while in fantastic company and after a pleasant weekend- that happiness really does come from within. And, although I may fool myself sometimes by trying to blame others for my negative views, that all of it- every broken promise, heart, crushed spirit- can be healed with pure positive energy.
A fresh perspective.
On life. On love. On music.
And a fresh perspective on Coldplay.