Green Eyes Fix You

The Coldplay concert was "Serious Awesomeness" incarnated. I'd already seen them once over the summer and that excellent performance made me want to attend another. I wandered around Lyon for a while but unfortunately didn't have enough time to hit any of the major sights. Still, it's one of my favorite French cities. I met up with some English and Colombian friends before the concert began. Goldfrapp, another British band, opened. They were abstract but energetic - I enjoyed it, and the lead singer's extensive French vocabulary - "Merci" - made me feel better about my paltry skills.


The concert took place in Tony Garnier Hall. I think the same architect designed Grace Community Church because, aside from the lighting differences (and Coldplay instead of Michelle Branch - seriously, who plays Michelle Branch in church?) it felt very similar to GCC. We were able to thread our way near the stage by recognizing various friends from Grenoble and leapfrogging from group to group. Honestly, there was an entire British contingent; I'm surprised they didn't hoist the Union Jack and start claiming territory for the Queen.


The concert opened just like the one in Indy; with a spectacular crescendo and a giant three minute countdown timer. The special effects weren't as elaborate as they were back at Verizon, nor were there any TV screens projecting the concert to the unfortunate souls stuck at the back of the giant hall. Thousands of French girls screaming "Coldplay" were cute... for perhaps the first three minutes. Unfortunately, the wailing continued unabated for the following eighty-seven.


I started recording video at the beginning of "Yellow" and managed to capture the whole song, along with the giant yellow glitter-filled balloons dropped from the catwalks. Like in Indy, Chris Martin tried to keep singing until the balloons were all popped, but the audience didn't understand and he had to stop before his vocal chords shriveled up. This is just a picture of the last song from the set (before the encore), where he ran on the catwalk to the very back of the hall and shook the hand of the guy seated in the very last row, apologizing for the 'bloody long distance."


A few lines from Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire" were part of the encore, but it absolutely baffled the mostly British and French crowd. I was one of perhaps 15 Americans singing along; it was hilarious because we could all hear each other over everyone else's confused murmurings.


A couple other notes: Chris Martin's French accent made me feel great about mine and also briefly put me en colère. The crowd understood (and loved) every word he said, while I've had French people stare blankly at me after I speak better than Jacques Chirac ordering something perfectly simple like "une bouteille d'eau, svp." Thus, either the French really do UNDERSTAND EVERY WORD THAT COMES OUT OF MY MOUTH and relish frustrating foreigners (no one ever automatically assumes I'm American; they always guess German or Spanish), or, more sinisterly, cool suave British rockers get more leeway than common folk. Gasp. That can't be true.

I spent the night in Lyon in the Hotel Dauphine near Gare Perrache train station. I had to leave my massive backpack there; catching the last train back to Grenoble wasn't an option (nor did I want to pay for a taxi since I would have arrived after the last tram back to campus) since it left from another station, Gare Part Dieu. Instead, I got a few hours of sleep and took a 5:36am train back to Grenoble. I did some homework, slept, dropped a few things off at my dorm and went to my 8:30 class "absolutely knackered."

I had little time to recuperate because the following day I flew to... Amsterdam.