But it would appear that whilst we’ve been largely overlooking their progress, Coldplay have now fully grown into what those subtle, fledgling EPs hinted at: much like Jay-Z, they are now fully-rounded global stars, and tonight is as good a performance as you’ll likely ever see from a rock band that straddles such a broad music-loving spectrum. Coldplay have always worked around musical structures at their most base and therefore if it’s not for you it’s easy enough to ignore. However it will be eternally baffling to me that the band has always attracted such a venomous level of hatred, mainly because their music is merely far too pleasant to waste anger on. beige? Even their name sounds a bit limp. It’s not that they’re bad, or dislikeable. After an hour, Jay-Z cements his place as a global phenomenon and leaves the stage to a pumped up, wholly appreciative room of converted fans, no doubt adding to the ones he collected at last year's Glastonbury.Ĭonfession time: truth be told, I don’t hold any hope of Coldplay touching their warm up, seeing as I have no more than a passing interest in them.
Such is the feel good factor in the stadium that the four safety stewards next to me begin taking 15 minute shifts to cover one another in order to go dance down the front. Throughout, Jay-Z manages to strike that difficult balance between being a solo superstar and a loveable down-to-earth chap, stopping to point out various American Football shirts in the crowd he approves of or ladies’ haircuts. Hell, even the slightly pompous-on-record ‘Empire State of Mind’ is elevated to modern classic status, in no small part due to Alicia Keys stand-in Bridget Kelly’s haunting vocals. ‘D.O.A.’ mixes in with the rest of his material seamlessly and the ever reliable ’99 Problems’ provides a great opportunity for 100,000 middle aged people to mock practise their air-scratching. ‘On to the Next One’ and ‘Dirt Off Your Shoulder’ sound immense, with a great deal of the standing audience bouncing along with Jay-Z’s instructional hand gestures. Despite my seat being nearer Brentford than the stage, Jay-Z impressively manages to make the stage his own within seconds and fill the gargantuan arena thanks in no small part to having two drummers and a fuckload of volume at his disposal. Whereas Jay-Z’s performance is downright brilliant. Things are somewhat rectified when the layered vocals pull together for the heart-melting chorus on ‘Call the Shots’ but even a dynamic rendition of the appropriately titled ‘The Promise’ leaves you feeling like it’s too little, too late. Their performance is perfectly passable, but the material itself lets them down a sickly cover of ‘I’ll Stand By You’, a lacklustre version of ‘Something Kinda Oooh’ and an unnecessary take on Robyn’s ‘Every Heartbeat’ are all wasted opportunities. An even bigger cock-up however is the Girls’ setlist choice. I’ve been bought a ticket in the knowledge that there may never be any more live performances by the quintet, but the fact that they’re playing a mere 40 minute set at 6pm is a real organisational oversight. It pains me that Girls Aloud are as average as they are tonight, as that’s primarily the reason why I’m here.
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