A few issues back, I used my column in The Philosopher's Magazine to lament the fact that I'd missed the Coldplay concert in the fall (and to confess that I am a Coldplay-lover), but now all is well. They were back in Dallas last night.
Here's the thing about hearing live music. It kind of disrupts a certain illusion that I enjoy. You see, Chris Martin and I have kind of a special connection. I understand him, and he understands me. In fact, he wrote many of his songs specifically for me--like "Clocks" and "Viva La Vida" and "Lost". So what are all those 20,000 other idiots doing there, acting like his greatest fans? How, in fact, do they even know his songs and the lyrics, considering that they're MY songs?
Sigh. The band was good. But back to the audience. Not only did they barge in on my special thing with Chris, but they made me notice that I'm no longer the age of a typical Coldplay fan. No, I'm not 24. I'm not even 34. One of the ways the 20,000 called this to my attention was by engaging in Strange Youth Behaviors.
Um, must one listen to music while waving around cellphones? I asked my two 12-year olds about this, because they got into the cellphone thing too. In fact, they took to it like...well, like ducks take to water. After the concert I attempted to provoke them by hypothesizing that this is all about the deep and intimate connection that people have with their phones these days. To hold your phone is practically like holding your heart in your hand, so raising it is a gesture of love and exultation.
But they wouldn't be provoked. In fact, they just looked at me like I was an ignoramus. The point is that the phone lights up, they said. It's like holding a candle. Sure. Whatever. I'm sure Chris thinks it's silly too. He encouraged it a bit, getting people to do that wave thing, but I think he was just pretending. He and I think just alike.