Play it again

When you can lay claim to being the biggest band in the world, you’re faced with a dilemma: continue the winning formula, or give it a twist.

Coldplay’s decision was probably made a little easier with the resounding indifference afforded X&Y, as well as a noticeable dip in global sales. An identikit follow-up may well have sounded the first death knell. So the band has made that least trendy of moves: they’ve turned political.

Well, that is to say ‘political’ in the broadest sense. Chris Martin’s lyrics are little more than exercises in stating the bleeding obvious, while the ruminations on death and war prevalent throughout are pretty limp. His images and words have never been what you’d call complex, but when professing a preoccupation with weightier themes he’s frankly out of his depth. Sample: “Those who are dead are not dead/They're just living in my head” on the otherwise excellent 42.

This, their fourth album, has been widely labelled as their concerted push towards U2 territory, seemingly made explicit by lyrically invading Bono’s turf and roping in Brian Eno as producer. However, this is slightly misleading. While Jonny Buckland’s guitar tone has more than a slight Edge to it, Viva La Vida sides itself more with James in the context of Eno’s production canon. The album’s lush, orchestral sweep has more in common with Arcade Fire than latter-day U2, with suggests that Markus Dravs was possibly the dominant voice in the control room.

Lyrical deficiencies notwithstanding, Martin has a good sense of melody which is still evident here. Viva La Vida features nothing as immediately infectious as, say, Yellow or Clocks, but it represents their most fully realised grasp of the album as an artistic statement, existing as a cohesive whole rather than a selection of tunes built around a handful of standout singles.

However their loftier artistic pretensions can at times frustrate.