Registration is required on the NYT site, so I pasted the entire review. My apologies for its length.

By JON PARELES
Published: June 5, 2005
THERE'S nothing wrong with self-pity. As a spur to songwriting, it's right up there with lust, anger and greed, and probably better than the remaining deadly sins. There's nothing wrong, either, with striving for musical grandeur, using every bit of skill and studio illusion to create a sound large enough to get lost in. Male sensitivity, a quality that's under siege in a pop culture full of unrepentant bullying and machismo, shouldn't be dismissed out of hand, no matter how risible it can be in practice. And building a sound on the lessons of past bands is virtually unavoidable.

But put them all together and they add up to Coldplay, the most insufferable band of the decade.

This week Coldplay releases its painstakingly recorded third album, "X&Y" (Capitol), a virtually surefire blockbuster that has corporate fortunes riding on it. (The stock price plunged for EMI Group, Capitol's parent company, when Coldplay announced that the album's release date would be moved from February to June, as it continued to rework the songs.)

"X&Y" is the work of a band that's acutely conscious of the worldwide popularity it cemented with its 2002 album, "A Rush of Blood to the Head," which has sold three million copies in the United States alone. Along with its 2000 debut album, "Parachutes," Coldplay claims sales of 20 million albums worldwide. "X&Y" makes no secret of grand ambition.

Clearly, Coldplay is beloved: by moony high school girls and their solace-seeking parents, by hip-hop producers who sample its rich instrumental sounds and by emo rockers who admire Chris Martin's heart-on-sleeve lyrics. The band emanates good intentions, from Mr. Martin's political statements to lyrics insisting on its own benevolence. Coldplay is admired by everyone - everyone except me.

It's not for lack of skill. The band proffers melodies as imposing as Romanesque architecture, solid and symmetrical. Mr. Martin on keyboards, Jonny Buckland on guitar, Guy Berryman on bass and Will Champion on drums have mastered all the mechanics of pop songwriting, from the instrumental hook that announces nearly every song they've recorded to the reassurance of a chorus to the revitalizing contrast of a bridge. Their arrangements ascend and surge, measuring out the song's yearning and tension, cresting and easing back and then moving toward a chiming resolution. Coldplay is meticulously unified, and its songs have been rigorously cleared of anything that distracts from the musical drama.

Unfortunately, all that sonic splendor orchestrates Mr. Martin's voice and lyrics. He places his melodies near the top of his range to sound more fragile, so the tunes straddle the break between his radiant tenor voice and his falsetto. As he hops between them - in what may be Coldplay's most annoying tic - he makes a sound somewhere between a yodel and a hiccup. And the lyrics can make me wish I didn't understand English. Coldplay's countless fans seem to take comfort when Mr. Martin sings lines like, "Is there anybody out there who / Is lost and hurt and lonely too," while a strummed acoustic guitar telegraphs his aching sincerity. Me, I hear a passive-aggressive blowhard, immoderately proud as he flaunts humility. "I feel low," he announces in the chorus of "Low," belied by the peak of a crescendo that couldn't be more triumphant about it.

In its early days, Coldplay could easily be summed up as Radiohead minus Radiohead's beat, dissonance or arty subterfuge. Both bands looked to the overarching melodies of 1970's British rock and to the guitar dynamics of U2, and Mr. Martin had clearly heard both Bono's delivery and the way Radiohead's Thom Yorke stretched his voice to the creaking point.

Unlike Radiohead, though, Coldplay had no interest in being oblique or barbed. From the beginning, Coldplay's songs topped majesty with moping: "We're sinking like stones," Mr. Martin proclaimed. Hardly alone among British rock bands as the 1990's ended, Coldplay could have been singing not only about private sorrows but also about the final sunset on the British empire: the old opulence meeting newly shrunken horizons. Coldplay's songs wallowed happily in their unhappiness.

"Am I a part of the cure / Or am I part of the disease," Mr. Martin pondered in "Clocks" on "A Rush of Blood to the Head." Actually, he's contagious. Particularly in its native England, Coldplay has spawned a generation of one-word bands - Athlete, Embrace, Keane, Starsailor, Travis and Aqualung among them - that are more than eager to follow through on Coldplay's tremulous, ringing anthems of insecurity. The emulation is spreading overseas to bands like the Perishers from Sweden and the American band Blue Merle, which tries to be Coldplay unplugged.

A band shouldn't necessarily be blamed for its imitators - ask the Cure or the Grateful Dead. But Coldplay follow-throughs are redundant; from the beginning, Coldplay has verged on self-parody. When he moans his verses, Mr. Martin can sound so sorry for himself that there's hardly room to sympathize for him, and when he's not mixing metaphors, he fearlessly slings clichés. "Are you lost or incomplete," Mr. Martin sings in "Talk," which won't be cited in any rhyming dictionaries. "Do you feel like a puzzle / you can't find your missing piece."

Coldplay reached its musical zenith with the widely sampled piano arpeggios that open "Clocks": a passage that rings gladly and, as it descends the scale and switches from major to minor chords, turns incipiently mournful. Of course, it's followed by plaints: "Tides that I tried to swim against / Brought me down upon my knees."

On "X&Y," Coldplay strives to carry the beauty of "Clocks" across an entire album - not least in its first single, "Speed of Sound," which isn't the only song on the album to borrow the "Clocks" drumbeat. The album is faultless to a fault, with instrumental tracks purged of any glimmer of human frailty. There is not an unconsidered or misplaced note on "X&Y," and every song (except the obligatory acoustic "hidden track" at the end, which is still by no means casual) takes place on a monumental soundstage.

As Coldplay's recording budgets have grown, so have its reverberation times. On "X&Y," it plays as if it can already hear the songs echoing across the world. "Square One," which opens the album, actually begins with guitar notes hinting at the cosmic fanfare of "Also Sprach Zarathustra" (and "2001: A Space Odyssey"). Then Mr. Martin, never someone to evade the obvious, sings about "the space in which we're traveling."

As a blockbuster band, Coldplay is now looking over its shoulder at titanic predecessors like U2, Pink Floyd and the Beatles, pilfering freely from all of them. It also looks to an older legacy; in many songs, organ chords resonate in the spaces around Mr. Martin's voice, insisting on churchly reverence.

As Coldplay's music has grown more colossal, its lyrics have quietly made a shift on "X&Y." On previous albums, Mr. Martin sang mostly in the first person, confessing to private vulnerabilities. This time, he sings a lot about "you": a lover, a brother, a random acquaintance. He has a lot of pronouncements and advice for all of them: "You just want somebody listening to what you say," and "Every step that you take could be your biggest mistake," and "Maybe you'll get what you wanted, maybe you'll stumble upon it" and "You don't have to be alone." It's supposed to be compassionate, empathetic, magnanimous, inspirational. But when the music swells up once more with tremolo guitars and chiming keyboards, and Mr. Martin's voice breaks for the umpteenth time, it sounds like hokum to me.

So Coldplay spawned Travis? hmmm. I actually think Rolling Stone's review is much better and more on point. Really this isn't a review of X&Y at all.

Dude, took the words out of my mouth. I remember thinking Travis spawned Coldplay at one point 5 years ago... saw them both live within 4 months of each other, when neither had much of a hit besides Yellow.

that's fucking laughable!

I've never been able to sit through an entire Coldplay song from start to finish.

Embrace was out a few years before Coldplay as well and their first album had a few hits in England. They were called Verve lite or something like that at the time.

I find so many people dislike bands because of the people who like the band instead of the music. It gets old.

This is not a review of the album. It's a polemic about what he perceives Coldplay's intent and process to be. Which may be all in his head.

When people tell me that they can't hear any Radiohead in Coldplay, I tell them it's because Coldplay is more based on Travis, and they did their best to filter out the overt Radiohead aspects by replacing it by Jeff Buckley.

Though they usually fall asleep by that argument.

This review sucks.

Coldplay really aren't interesting enough to hate.

Completly agree with this. I like them and probably always will, but it's not like they're reinventing the musical wheel with each song.

The Royksopp remix of Clocks was awesome though

I've seen almost nothing but glowing reviews for this album until now. Paste and Blender gave the album 5 stars I think.

they were playing it at Barnes and Noble last night and it was terrible boring

Here's the Rolling Stone. I think it's pretty dead on, especially for RS.

Coldplay didn't seem destined for bigness. Their 2000 debut, Parachutes, was full of drizzly but pretty rock ballads that were almost memorable enough to prevent American listeners from confusing the band with Travis. Of course, that album also included a huge, soaring song called "Yellow," which may well be inspiring a drunken singalong in your local bar as you read this.

"Yellow" was a smash, but what came next was even smashier. In 2002, Coldplay released A Rush of Blood to the Head, which perfectly captured the heady feeling of a small band acting big. The band's sad-sack frontman, Chris Martin, transformed himself with so much swagger and so many hooks that even 50 Cent had to pay tribute, turning Martin's ambivalent lyric into a greasy boast: "God gave me style, God gave me grace." The rest of the band supplied Martin with propulsive rhythms, giving their newly pushy leader something to pull against, and the songs were even better; the band had mastered the art of writing graceful ballads that were both deceptively simple and fiendishly hard to dislodge from the human brain.

Since then, Martin has become a worldwide rock star, for better and for worse. He has a wife named Gwyneth and a baby named Apple, who just turned one, and who probably already knows what "paparazzi" means. On the other hand, Martin's newfound notoriety has meant more exposure for his favorite causes, such as fair trade. Compared to all the hubbub about Chris Martin the celebrity, his band's return to the American pop charts was a bit of a letdown. Coldplay began the campaign for X&Y with "Speed of Sound," an appealing but not thrilling song (it sounds a bit like Rush of Blood's "Clocks" but without the swagger). Whereas Rush of Blood was a nervy bid for bigness, X&Y is something less exciting. It's the serious sound of Martin trying to sing songs that match his stature. It's the sound of a blown-up band trying not to deflate.

Like the previous one, this album starts in outer space. Last time, there were those roiling piano chords of "Politik" and an audacious opening: "Look at Earth from outer space/Everyone must find a place." This time there's an atmospheric hum, and Martin murmurs, "The future's for discoverin'/The space in which we're travelin'." Drummer Will Champion enters with a tense rhythm, Guy Berryman adds one of those hurtling- forward bass lines, and Jonny Buckland doubles it with a skinny guitar line -- there's plenty to listen to, but not a lot to love. Luckily, this album contains its share of lovely ballads that sound, well, Coldplay-ish: Thanks to Keane and other imitators, Coldplay's name has become an adjective. One of the best is "Fix You," an unabashedly sentimental song where Martin delivers words of encouragement in a gentle falsetto. "Lights will guide you home/And ignite your bones/And I will try to fix you," he sings, proving once more that no band can deliver a stately rock ballad like this one. And although "Twisted Logic" may be an obvious Radiohead rip-off (with a title that sounds alarmingly Fred Durst-ish), the members find ways to build suspense while progressing toward that inevitable crashing climax.

Still, a surprising number of songs here just never take flight, from "The Hardest Part" (which actually gets less catchy as it goes along) to "A Message," which might actually be too Coldplay-ish: "My song is love," Martin announces, and you might find yourself wishing it weren't. Martin has talked about how hard he worked on this album, and it shows: Nothing on it sounds easy -- maybe 50 Cent made off with a little bit of his style and grace. X&Y does find ways to reward persistent listeners, especially those who make it all the way past the end to the bonus track, "Till Kingdom Come," which is the most casual thing on the album (it starts with Martin counting) and maybe the best. "I don't know which way I'm going/I don't know which way I've come," he sings, accompanied by little more than an acoustic guitar, and after what's come before, it's an unexpected delight to hear him sound so small again.

Rolling Stone give everything 3 stars automatically and are even less relevant then Coldplay

No doubt. Actually I find they give everything 3 1/2 stars. But I thought this was a bang up job for them.

I still think the singer sounds like Dave Matthews. Hokum is right.

"build suspense while progressing toward that inevitable crashing climax"

the reason i enjoy Coldplay.

fuck reviews, review mags, review sites, review blogs, and reviewers in general. this is a great album.

Ugh. Coldplay is not capable of releasing a great album. And people's insistance that all their records are great albums is why people hate Coldplay.

I don't have much time for Coldplay but why is male sensitivity "risible"? Perhaps Jon Pareles should look closer to home for a definiton.

Hopefully someone will box the lugs of this poor retarded soul and perhaps, with secondary intention, knock some sense into him.

you must pretty much hate everything

just thought i'd let you know that you're dead wrong.

they've already released 2 outstanding albums. their debut being one of the finest debut albums in history IMO.

it's people like yourself that are more worried about the fans of a certain band than the actual music of the band. that's ignorant, and blatantly obvious.

"And the lyrics can make me wish I didn't understand English"

Damn. That's cold.

Whatever, I like this album. Don't really take reviews to heart as much as I used to either.

All three of their albums I have time for. They're not top 10 all time for me or anything, but all good and listened to/will be listened to fairly often.

I thought they did a pretty good job with the MTV concert last night, too.

i thought so too. caught it at the last minute thankfully.