One of the more wearying things about culture in general is the way we seem to have to wait a requisite number of years before conceding that a given artist is any good. I won’t go into the higher realms of culture, confining myself to the safer sphere of pop music, and I mean POPULAR music.
Like most people of a “certain age” I might be forgiven for harking back to the music of my youth, and to a certain extent I do, but that doesn’t prevent me from insisting that in terms of sheer melodic invention the albums of Coldplay, say, are every bit as good as anything ever produced by the Beatles. If the ultimate litmus test for pop music is its ability to send shivers down the spine – if only for a short time – the modern generation has nothing to be ashamed of.
The riff running through Talk on Coldplay's latest album (honestly their best) is instantly memorable and right up there with some of the great Abba lines and, for example, Walk of Life by Dire Straits.
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