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Coldplay in Detroit: The Gay Review

Chris Azzopardi


"You know how I know you're gay? You like Coldplay." Paul Rudd might've been onto something when, in "The 40 Year Old Virgin," he declared that admiring Chris Martin and Company meant you had a little pep in your step.
Coldplay's show on Aug. 1 at the Palace of Auburn Hills was – oh, how should I put it? – a little gay. You know, if gay means being in touch with your feelings, writing about them, singing about them. And then performing them in a stadium – with graffiti hearts everywhere, mind you – that's an interactive lightshow where the venue looks like an arena-sized Christmas tree.
Now, I've been to lots of shows. I've seen Katy Perry squirt the audience with bazooka of whipping cream. I've seen Lady Gaga take down a monster. But never have I experienced something so magical: When 17,000 people flooded into the Palace with bracelets, no one knew what to expect – even if you YouTubed it beforehand (cheater).
With the lights out, Coldplay launched into "Mylo Xyloto," their latest album's title track, as all the bracelets illuminated into a breathtaking display of rainbow colors. They didn't stop there: only a couple of songs in, and – unlike most bands who save the mess for later – they were already blasting confetti into the air. Why not?
By starting like most bands end, Coldplay risked an almost inevitable comedown. How could the rest of the concert be this good? It was. After Martin bounced around the stage like some kid who hadn't taken his Ritalin during "Lovers in Japan," he sat at the piano – which, splashed in paint, looked like it belonged in a contemporary museum – for "The Scientist," instantly corralling everyone into a sing-along. "Yellow" was a quiet tribute to the people of Aurora, Colo., that soared into a drum-driven anthem. Their only sour moment? When Rihanna showed up for "Princess of China" via a pre-recorded video, it felt out of place.
When Coldplay got back in touch with their sensitive-dude side on "Warning Sign," all was forgiven. But it wasn't just the music, which also included the stirring live gem "Fix You" and perfect closer "Every Teardrop is a Waterfall," that helped Coldplay live up to its promise of giving "the best fucking show," as Martin assured early on.
It was the unexpected: the beaming light show, the encore in the audience and big balloons that bounced throughout the crowd – ones that Martin kicked back into the sea of people as he bopped around the stage. Watching him have the time of his life was inspiring. The guy moves around the stage like a goldfish, contorting his body, dancing, jumping, and falling to the ground with dramatic panache. Bicep-baring tees in pastels are also his thing – and on the end of each one he wore his heart. That could be gay, but in Coldplay's case, it's just part of what makes them so great.
Also stunning was opener Emeli Sande, a UK import who has the voice to headline, even though she had a fleeting 30-minute set that flew by. Every song, from the disco-dance "Heaven" to soul song "Next to Me," was on point. Expect big things from her.
The second act, Marina and the Diamonds, had a harder time impressing with her pixie-girl in a pop world vibe. Most of her material was from her new album, "Electra Heart," and her random shtick – picking up a stuffed dog and holding it against her face – was more awkward than awesome.

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