A Love-Hate Farewell

Moon Music 

Coldplay

2024

GENRE: Rock

LABEL: Atlantic

All the highlights accentuated, all the foolery exposed.

Coldplay albums are like your friend who always claims this party will be their "last hurrah"—melancholy but essential, dramatic but endearing. Since X&Y, the band has toyed with retirement as much as they have with stadium lights. Chris Martin once mused that "bands shouldn’t go past 33," but at 47, he’s still here, two albums away from swearing off the stage for good.  

Their latest, Moon Music, captures why Coldplay’s departure will sting and why, for some, it can’t come soon enough. While their music has recently leaned into an exhausting sugar rush of "la la’s" and emoji titles ("🌈," anyone?), the "Music of the Spheres" tour proved they’re unrivaled at turning concerts into communal fairy tales. LED wristbands lighting arenas? Coldplay did it first. Kinetic dance floors that generate energy? Classic Martin whimsy. Yet without the electrified glow of their audience, their studio work risks feeling like an overlong TED Talk about optimism—complete with awkward jokes and vague platitudes.  

With tracks named GOOD FEELiNGS and Man in the Moon, Moon Music embraces everything you love—or endure—about Coldplay. Once melancholic balladeers, they’ve gone cosmic in both ambition and absurdity, shifting from brooding about stars to metaphorically colonizing them. By their standards, naming an album after the moon is almost...humble.  

Though "Moon Music" borrows from Everyday Life's eclecticism and Music of the Spheres pop sheen, it’s more cohesive than you’d expect—thanks, in part, to Max Martin’s production and the rare sense of teamwork among the four band members. This isn’t just Chris Martin singing over Jonny Buckland’s contractual guitar licks (see: Magic, Higher Power, and every Chainsmokers collab). The full band shows up, making tracks like "iAAM" hard to resist despite lyrics comparing Martin to a mountain and a Greek god. Yes, laugh all you want, but you’ll still fist-pump by the chorus.  

The Good, the Bad, and the "La La"

For every cringe-inducing moment ("La-la-lay, that’s all I can say" on "All My Love"), Moon Music offers flashes of brilliance. "Jupiter" is a tender ode to queer love, stripped of the stadium bombast to recapture early Coldplay intimacy. When Martin croons “Don’t give up,” it feels directed at one person, not a galaxy of LED wristbands. Meanwhile, "Aeterna" trades lyrics for a jazz-inflected groove, bassist Guy Berryman’s understated shuffle outshining Martin’s auto-tuned falsetto.  Then there’s 🌈, which could’ve been another Fix You retread but blossoms into a dreamy soundscape—a glimpse of what might’ve happened if early Coldplay had binged Cocteau Twins and Sigur Rós instead of Jeff Buckley. It’s the album’s most unexpected triumph, offering proof that Coldplay’s still capable of magic.  

But the lows are just as low. "We Pray", despite admirable attempts to address global struggles (complete with Elyanna, Burna Boy, and Little Simz), stumbles into overstuffed mediocrity. Its heartfelt nods to the Iranian protest song "Baraye" are drowned out by the dreaded "la la’s" and flat production. Imagine Dragons’ 808s have more bite.  

If Moon Music has a thesis, it’s this: Coldplay thrives in contradictions. They’re silly yet sincere, ambitious yet maddeningly safe. Even the bonus tracks embody this duality. "Man in the Moon" is a tinny Buggles rip-off, while "The Karate Kid" nails plaintive balladry, proving they can still write a song that tugs at your heartstrings—nonsense lyrics be damned.  Chris Martin’s reflections on “uncoolness” in "The New Yorker" are emblematic of the band’s ethos: “If you were allowed to be yourself, would the world be as aggressive as it is?” It’s naïve, sure, but that childlike wonder underpins both their success and their critics’ exasperation.  

Coldplay may overuse emoji titles and indulge in saccharine singalongs, but they’re also one of the few bands capable of making a 6-minute nu-jazz vamp sound like the most important thing in the world. When the lights dim on their final tour, the world will be poorer for the absence of their 🌈-filled optimism—even if we occasionally rolled our eyes at it.