A rush of new material to the studio would have been nice, too. Coldplay brought about a staggering rise to the top of the charts with Parachutes. Its success and the impressive circumstances of a debut release with such mass appeal are squandered by what followed. Not X&Y or Viva la vida or Death and All His Friends, but by the insistence from Chris Martin and the band to replicate the charts, no matter the tone. A Rush of Blood to the Head is the first sign of this cautious and disappointing tone. It would not be the last. But it would get much worse from here. It makes A Rush of Blood to the Head feel inspired. To Coldplay’s credit, it was. An amplification of guitar and piano rock is what can be heard on their second album, an excellent follow-up to Parachutes. Martin finds the ceiling of his abilities here, and as the decade closed out, Coldplay would never offer anything quite like this again.
Any artist is expected to build on their preceding album, that much is an inevitability. But it is often taken for granted by a listener just how tricky that can be. For Coldplay, it means matching the luck and skill of Parachutes. Somehow, they manage to. A Rush of Blood to the Head is a staggering mixture of all their influences. It still hasn’t got that originality which separates a pop artist from their peers, but there is enough sincerity within this album to keep it alive. Politik is arguably the best song Coldplay has released. It does what Everyday Life tried, but in five minutes. A song of unity and strength in the face of a testing future. Double meaning certainly helps here, with Coldplay facing up to the challenge of a second album but also reckoning with a swiftly changing country. In My Place is a magnificent follow-up, offering a rare moment of sincerity from the band.
On it continues with God Put a Smile Upon Your Face, and the feeling at this point, so early in the album, is one of fear. When will it all come crashing down for Coldplay? Surely it cannot be a whole run of solid work? Even Viva la vida or Death and All His Friends had moments where mocking Martin and the band for their continued faux pop sincerity was the only way to stay awake. It doesn’t come for A Rush of Blood to the Head. It keeps on with a steady blur of guitar and piano powerhouses, the amplification of both instruments a phenomenal overhaul of their sound compared to Parachutes. Even the overplayed bits like The Scientist and Clocks are magnificent examples of what would fast become an overdone and hollow sound for the band.
Sincerity is hard to find in Coldplay’s albums of late. A Rush of Blood to the Head is oozing it. The trouble with becoming a brand rather than a band is that you lose sight of these heartfelt treasures. Green Eyes is a gut-wrenching piece of work from Martin. A tender piece of work which strives for simplicity and ends up becoming a welcome pool of influences, unashamedly shared with listeners who are no doubt moved by the same artists affecting Coldplay. An emotive flourish the band would never hit on again, paired with an instrumental roughness which, for this sole and different album, would have the band sounding like they had deeper meaning underneath the surface. A Rush of Blood to the Head is an outstanding piece of work, dependent on the roaringly strong A Whisper and album closer Amsterdam. It is by far the best album the band has released and (aside from Viva la via or Death and All His Friends) nothing comes close.
