Image: Carlos RMWhen you set off for an open-air concert and it's not only been raining for four of the past five days but the latest downpour briefly looks the stuff of serious flooding, you begin to wonder whether you've chosen wisely.
But then we'd paid a lot of money, €90 each (others paid a lot more), so we had little choice but to press on to catch Coldplay live in Nice. And if my colleagues in Abu Dhabi could turn out and see them in the pouring rain that is, shall we say, less commonplace in the Gulf, why can't I?
And I am, of course, glad now that we could. It suddenly became not just dry but sunny and while the evening air was cool at the stade Charles-Ehrmann or Palais Nikaïa - it seems to get along with both names - it was also, more or less, agreeable. And the concert was sensational.
The picture by Carlos RM was from another stadium. My mobile phone photos refuse to upload, so many thanks to Carlos until I can fix that. But imagine the music and this picture offers a fair idea of the stunning light-and-sound effect the band creates. The second photo is mine from Nice but before even the support acts had shown themselves.
I do not consider myself a huge Coldplay fan. I am, however, an admirer and have been since the wonderful Yorkshire folk singer Kate Rusby alerted me, even before Coldplay was anywhere near being a household name, to Yellow .
They played Yellow last night, of course, and it was excellent as well as being beautifully illustrated on the giant screens without which attending a concert with 45,000 others would probably be a fairly stupid way of spending the evening (and a fair chunk of money).
It was 10pm before Chris Martin took the stage with his old uni chums, their slim physiques making me wonder whether Gwyneth Paltrow, aka Mrs Martin, happened to be in charge of their dieting and fitness regimes.
Still daylight in Nice, so before Coldplay took the stage
Before that, two So British Londonish girls, Rita Ora and Marina, had turned the poisoned chalice of support act status into impressive career breaks, even if Nice-Matin decsribed their acts as ''quickly, quickly, quickly forgotten'' once the star attraction was on stage.
For what is worth, I thought both performed good, short sets, even if both seemed fashionably pleased with themselves when swearing (Rita beamed most, other than when mentioning ''my number one hits'', as she announced the title of one her songs,Party and Bulls***). But then Chris Martin has his ''isn't it cool to swear?'' moments, too.
Coldplay's leader was once described by Liam Gallagher, of the talented but significantly less so Oasis, as “looking like a geography teacher'' which may be less a cross to bear than coming across as a Manc burglar.
Martin and the band do look clean-cut. They're fit, take obvious pride in their music and know how to engage with an audience: there was instant warmth all around me when he showed himself able to rise above the''je m'appelle Marina'' snatches we'd had before. Up to 45,000 French fans - the ''up to'' is important since I heard lots of English and north American voices, too, and saw numerous Italian flags - appreciated his efforts to address them in their own language.
I'll leave playlists to the true anoraks. I am not such a Coldplay fan, in any case, that I can name song titles. But I know, as much as the ignoramus inside the Louvre, what I like. Elder daughter, hobnobbing with cinema's finest at the Cannes film festival, correctly guessed from my rough-and-ready but nameless description that I loved, most of all, Fix You, an exceptional piece of music on any level.
But nearly all of it was an exemplary display of rock for the thinking man and woman (and child, if Nice-Matin's disarming assessment of the audience is right: jamais moins de 12 ans, rarement plus que 40. Ouch! And no, I'm not 11.
The same newspaper noted that hosting the gig cost the city €1.3m, and I am sure the security and transport costs will have been that high. But I doubt whether the figure takes account of a substantial boost to Nice's economy and prestige. And it certainly didn't stop us being stuck for an hour and a half in one of the giant offsite car parks afterwards.
Home, then, at 3.20am. But it is a concert to remember. And to Chris Martin, one comment and one piece of advice ahead of the tour's essential gig, the Stadium of Light in Sunderland.
* great, maybe even fantastic show, visually stunning, superior music. Iron out a couple of creases - sound balance, maybe, and instrument tuning - and you'll achieve perfection on Wearside on June 7
* good work on the French. Now practise ''ha'way the Lads'', "O-O-O-O-O'Neill"
and similar Mackem chants ...
Recent Comments