The Coldplay sensitoid-in-chief once stabbed someone, used to think he was gay and digs Limp Bizkit. All his secrets are out as he answers Blender’s reader questions.
You may remember Coldplaying asked you to submit your questions to Blender magazine for Chris Martin to answer. Well, Chris Martin has answered and the results are now available online in audio. Some questions asked were:
Producer Brian Eno had you hypnotized while you were recording the new album. What weird stuff did he make you do while you were under?
Don’t lie: Just how much did you pay for Radiohead’s In Rainbows?
Do you know how I know you’re gay?
Read the full article, the questions that were asked, and audio of Chris Martin answering them - all here [thanks mimixxx]
No one on Earth could fault Chris Martin’s political crusades. He hates poverty. Loves global debt relief. Wants to marry fair trade. But, ducking in to a Korean vegetarian restaurant on a rainy Manhattan afternoon, Coldplay’s lead singer unveils his most controversial cause yet: The redemption of Muzak. "This is lovely," he says, gesturing toward the ceiling-mounted speakers, which ooze a tinkling, Asian-ized version of "Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da," all zithers and erhus. "These instruments are so beautiful. It reminds you that bad Muzak is often the composer’s fault, not the genre’s itself."
Nothing, not even Muzak, is too cheesy for Chris Martin. In fact, the defense of cheese might be the campaign he’s most passionate about. The Devon, England–born singer, 31, invests baldly sentimental music with a deep, lived-in sense of yearning; he is an irony-vanquishing, tear-duct-exercising master craftsman of swoons and breakup jams.
He’s in New York to work on a politician-mocking video for "Violet Hill," the first single from Coldplay’s fourth disc, Viva La Vida, which offsets Martin’s hug-the-world side (the gorgeous, tender piano ballad "Reign of Love") with a newfound musical adventurousness (the booming beat on "Lost!"; the grinding metal riff on "Violet Hill").
The album was completed only after a storm of revisions, rejections and sleepless nights, familiar to anyone who’s followed the band’s career. Even now that Viva La Vida is done, the notoriously insecure singer isn’t sure about it. "Some days I feel like I’m in a really good rock band," Martin says. "But I never feel I’m really good."
Unsurprisingly, then, the prospect of answering Blender’s reader questions has him a bit uneasy. "Ready when you are," he says, fidgeting with some chopsticks and eyeing the tape recorder on the table. "But … am I allowed to skip the ones I don’t like?"
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