Anyone old-fashioned enough to have a physical CD of Coldplay’s fourth studio album will find a Rorschach-style inkblot in the center of the accompanying booklet. Surrounding the inkblot are fragments of the album’s lyrics. As suggested by the double title, Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends (June 2008, Capitol) dwells on the subjects of life and of death. The message the album’s evocative and enigmatic lyrics communicate about life, death, heaven and hell is as open to interpretation as the symmetrical smudge of ink.
It’s a safe bet that many members of the band’s worldwide following aren’t looking for any particular message, and this album suits them just fine. Many songs have choruses that can compel a stadium full of fans to join in, not so much from conviction as for the thrill of singing with the crowd. Frontman Chris Martin traces this feature of his music to childhood experiences in church: “One of the great things about being forced to go to church services is that we’d sing all these big songs. That’s partly why I’m obsessed with getting everyone to sing along at our shows. It makes me feel like I’m a part of something.”¹
Still, for Coldplay to produce a thematic album is a departure from their previous work, from the raw, intimate songs of love and introspection on Parachutes (November 2000) to the over-produced, often less memorable songs of love and introspection on X & Y (June 2005). All of the songs on Viva la Vida, as well as the additional tracks released as the Prospekt’s March EP in November 2008, are linked together to make one statement, as if to insinuate that the band has something big to say.
Partly because of “some not-insubstantial critical drubbing” received after X & Y, the band wanted to create something artistically worthy of their phenomenal sales and hype.² They enlisted famed producer Brian Eno, who helped them break down their own conventions about lyrics, stylistic tricks and song structures.³ From this was born an album that is both holistic and strangely fragmented: songs bleed into each other; some tracks contain more than one song; the opening instrumental material fades in (ambiguous beginning) and returns at end (cyclical); some songs begin as one thing and end as another. These devices subvert traditional Western concepts of distinctions and of beginnings and endings. The use of instruments from around the world not only expands the sonic palette and offers a nod to the band’s fans in the East, but also enhances the sense that this album is pushing for universality.
The title Viva la Vida (“Long Live Life,” according to the Mexican expression) was taken from the title of a painting of vibrant watermelons by Frida Kahlo. In describing the painting’s inspiration, Martin says that Kahlo “always mixed darkness and sadness with light and joy.” Life, in this album, is an embrace of love and beauty in the face of hardship or death.⁴
Death is portrayed in the company of his friends: domination, conquest and war. The French revolution and the events that followed it serve as an emblem of these forces in action. The album cover shows the Eugène Delacroix painting Liberty Leading the People, in which Lady Liberty carries the tricolore flag. In their performances, band members wear French revolutionary army costumes. Though not explicit, a strong case can be made that the title track Viva la Vida is from the perspective of Napoleon Bonaparte. The French revolution is used as an analogy for the broader theme of empire, as is shown by the larger-than-life chorus: “I hear Jerusalem bells a-ringing, Roman cavalry choirs a-singing, be my mirror, my sword and shield, my missionaries in a foreign field…”
When sung by a British band with sensitivities to the shame of imperial aspirations, the themes of war and empire carry an implied allusion to current American-led wars and attempted influence. The allusion is strengthened in the song Violet Hill, which warns, “When the future’s architectured/By a carnival of idiots on show/You’d better lie low,” before making a veiled reference to Fox News.⁵ The following lyrics compare current wars to a crusade, adding religion to the list of Death’s friends: “Priests clutched onto bibles/And went out to fit their rifles/And the cross was held aloft.” In this light, the irony of the album’s cover art, in which Liberty leads the bloodshed, is magnified.
The last rousing hook of the album might seem to proclaim a clear message: “No I don’t want to battle from beginning to end/I don’t want to cycle, recycle revenge/I don’t want to follow death and all of his friends.” But the album as a whole admits that it’s not so simple. After these lines, the music from Life in Technicolor, the album’s first track, creeps back in, and buried in the sounds, Martin sings, “And in the end we lie awake and we dream of making our escape.” End of what—life? Escape from what—death?
These songs portray life and death in juxtaposition, sometimes blurring the distinction between them. The song titled Viva la Vida is about a fallen world-dominator, yet it’s full of exhilaration. Several songs on the album and the EP seem to refer to the moments just before death with the phrase “now my feet won’t touch the ground,” which could suggest transcendence or prostration. These moments are shown as beautiful, otherworldly, full of memories of love, moments in which one says, “It’s such a perfect day.” The album’s characterization of life after death is muddled with references to ghosts and the haunting refrain, “Those who are dead are not dead, they’re just living in my head…Time is so short and I’m sure/There must be something more…”
The album is ambivalent about what follows death. In interviews and songs (particularly Cemeteries of London and Yes), Martin expresses disdain for notions of punishment and hell.⁶ The songs Viva la Vida (“For some reason I can’t explain/I know St. Peter won’t call my name”) and 42 (“You didn’t get to heaven but you made it close”) voice no hope in heaven. The song Glass of Water from the Prospekt’s March EP admonishes one wondering if heaven is in his future, “Oh, son, don’t ask.” Perhaps the album’s dual title, Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends, offers not so much a dichotomous choice but two alternatives for saying the same thing. In Cemeteries of London, for instance, God is strangely present yet inaccessible: “God is in the houses, and God is in my head/And all the cemeteries of London/I see God come in my garden, but I don’t know what he said…”
With God in the background, the album argues, life and death are most clearly seen in the dialectic of the personal and political, of love and power. Violet Hill implores, “If you love me won’t you let me know” in the context of a war controlled by others. In Strawberry Swing, a character, who might be a soldier, thinks about his love before dying. Before decrying battle and revenge, the song Death and All His Friends coaxes, “So come over, just be patient, and don’t worry.”
Reign of Love, a synthesis of love and power, is one of the most tender and beautiful moments on the album. However, its mood is not clear. Does the reign of love represent the sublime or a form of captivity? The song is filled with obscure imagery, but one picture is clear, “Reign of love, by the church we’re waiting/Reign of love, my knees go praying.” The narrator is not in the church. He is next to it, but on the outside.
Viva la Vida won three Grammys this week, has sold more than 2.2 million copies in the U.S. and has topped the charts in seventeen countries.⁷ It is the reflection of a generation that hungers for the spiritual but doesn’t believe in meaning; that sees God everywhere but doesn’t believe he can be understood; that can’t bear the idea of judgment but doesn’t want evil to triumph; that longs for a cause larger than self but clings to love as the best hope.
The people of God must tell those waiting outside the church that God is not silent but has sent his Word, who tasted death in order to give Life. He will come again with a sword, but we must not be ashamed. He’s the only one who can conquer Death and his friends, sin and hell. He is the Prince of Peace, and his Kingdom will be the Reign of Love.
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¹Austin Scaggs, “Q&A: Chris Martin,” rollingstone.com, http://www.rollingstone.com/news/story/7381688/qa_chris_martin. <2.5.2009>
²Will Hermes, “Coldplay, Viva La Vida or Death And All His Friends,” rollingstone.com, http://www.rollingstone.com/reviews/album/21236751/review/21256424?utm_source=Rhapsody&utm_medium=CDreview. <2.5.2009>
³Brian Hiatt, “The Jesus of Uncool,” rollingstone.com, http://www.rollingstone.com/news/coverstory/21185368/page/1. <2.5.2009>
⁴Jacqui Swift, “Coldplay - Viva La Vida or Death And All His Friends,” thesun.co.uk, http://www.thesun.co.uk/sol/homepage/showbiz/sftw/article1284929.ece. <2.5.2009>
⁵Brian Hiatt, “The Jesus of Uncool.”
⁶Ibid.
⁷James Montgomery, Coldplay’s Viva La Vida Risk Pays Off With Grammy Nods, mtv.com, http://www.mtv.com/news/articles/1603961/20090130/coldplay.jhtml. <2.5.2009>
Bethany Brooks is a Philadelphia-area freelance pianist and piano teacher who sings and plays keyboard and mandolin with Wissahickon Chicken Shack.
