Coldplay are back with Everyday Life and, if you didn’t know, I’m an embarrassingly big fan of theirs. The album is much unlike anything they’ve done before, and is best consumed as a whole, start to end. By all means, many of the songs stand up on their own merits, but the division of the album into “Sunrise” and “Sunset” halves (gloriously debuted in Jordan against a gorgeous backdrop at – you guessed it – sunrise and sunset) makes it very clear that the band are trying to tell a story.

There will be plenty of reviews of the whole offering by now, so I’ve decided to go through it track-by-track, in the intended order, and offer my thoughts on the songs and how they fit into this broader narrative. To the approximately three people who find this interesting, I hope you enjoy!

Click the name of each song to be taken to a YouTube stream of it.

Sunrise

Sunrise is one of the best, most expectation-subverting album openers Coldplay have delivered since Viva la Vida started with a similar instrumental curiosity with Life in Technicolour. The trackbegins with an understated, isolated string melody and builds into something almost reminiscent of the Schindler’s List theme – beautifully vocal strings in rich, emotional harmony. The song’s final bar, used as a teaser for Everyday Life, sends the song off on a peaceful yet optimistic note, and it’s absolutely brilliant.

Church

If Sunrise kicks against everything we’ve been taught to know about Coldplay in recent years – with unnecessary Top 40 artist features and Chainsmokers-esque electronic droning replaced with gorgeously understated strings – then Church initially feels like something of a backslide. It does continue our reacquaintance with a Coldplay that is more creatively free-flowing, less constrained by a need to chart and appease the critics, but it also seems sorely familiar. Some of the lesser efforts of the band’s last few albums have had a similarly uncontroversial instrumental backing and catchy, one-line chorus, and they return here. Similarly, the album’s confused religious messaging begins here, leaving us with the lines “I worship you in church baby / Always / I worship you in church / All the seven days / I praise and praise”. Considering the band have some serious lyrical chops when they go for it, this is a slight disappointment. However, the opening lines have some of 2005’s X & Y’s pleasant echo to them, the song is ultimately a pretty easy listen, and the band’s instruments do shine through more than in A Head Full of Dreams’ hazy pop mix – so this one’s a mixed bag.

Trouble in Town

Everyday Life takes its first staggeringly confident step into the political. The song sways between slick lyrical nods to modern society’s problems (“Because my sister can’t wear her crown / There’s trouble / There’s trouble in town”) to clumsy anti-establishment ramblings (“Because their system just keep you down”) but the overall message is not just clear but incredibly punchy. The smooth, sleepy vocals and bass create a sense of building dread and the audio recording of an American police incident is gleefully charts-unfriendly. This song won’t be a single and the band know it, but when guitarist Jonny Buckland’s searing guitar riff jumps into the mix and brings the song to its climax, Trouble in Town has entirely achieved its purpose of turning dread into fear, and blending it into a cohesive 4-minute track.

BrokEn

Billy Eilish-esque title aside, BrokEn is a lovely musical antidote to the previous track. It’s an uncontroversial, fun, gospel-based track – and the band have nodded in a promotional skit to the notion that “when the songs are dire, call the gospel choir,” and it might well be that this was an easy filler track. But it has genuine heart, and it’s one I’ve found myself going back to. Of all the songs on the album’s first “Sunrise” half, it’s one of the more optimistic and uplifting. It was a good move for the band not to lump all the happier songs in the first half and the more dreary in the second, as this lends more authenticity to the double album, but BrokEn feels at home here.

Daddy

If you ask someone who doesn’t like Coldplay what they think the band’s music sounds like, they’d probably come up with something like this. It’s sad, it’s slow, it’s filled with muted instrumentation. It is, however, glorious. Chris Martin lays his emotions, no doubt related to son Moses, bare and provides some of his best lyrical work yet. The long-distance nature of the pair’s relationship is reflected tenderly in Martin’s channelling of conversations with his son “Look Dad, we got the same hair / And Daddy, it’s my birthday” to gut-punchingly emotional effect. The chorus fading back into the verses, accompanied by gentle, lilting piano with Martin’s assurance “That’s okay, it’s okay / It’s okay” is reminiscent of a father soothing his son, and this all comes together to form an almost-lullaby that will invariably transport you back to the simplicity of being a little kid in your parents’ arms.

WOTW/POTP

This is an odd one. A demo included on an album, yet one of a song that could have had a full feature. In fact, at points, the chorus is calling out for drummer Will Champion to deliver some of his soaring backing vocals, but there’s something admirable in how the song was kept to its bare bones – including a guitar slip-up by Martin. It admittedly leaves you wanting a bit more, but once more (as with BrokEn) the album drags itself back up with a sense of optimism after being knocked down – this time by emotional ballad Daddy. Hearing Martin twiddling away on his guitar and singing uplifting, personal lyrics (and a fair dollop of “ooh-ooh”-ing), accompanied by nothing else but ambient noise, is surprisingly refreshing.

Arabesque

Maybe I’ve just listened to the single release too much, but this song doesn’t seem to fit with the album. Thematically it does: the lyrics “You could be me / I could be you” capture the feel of Everyday Life’s all-encompassing, humanity-affirming message in two lines – but this is a more Viva-esque, more polished effort than some of the songs it sits beside. Have no doubt, it’s also funky as all hell. Guy Berryman’s thumping bass feels at home and the song builds to a rapturous conclusion, all whilst working in catchy, foot-tapping brass. Coldplay have finally gained the knack of a good feature too – with musical wizard Jacob Collier threading his way through some of the other tracks, in Arabesque it’s the turn of Belgian star Stromae to deliver some deep, glossy vocals (accompanied by a tantalising sliver of Will Champion’s singing). This song manages to both seem slightly elevated in polish above what Everyday Life is trying to do, but also distil the album’s essence into one track.

When I Need a Friend

As much Evensong as it is Coldplay, this song is far more of a choral number than anything – from the echoing, multi-layered vocals to the “soft and slowly” lyrics, it’s near enough a Christmas carol. It sort of works, though. The “Sunrise” half of the album is let out like a gentle sigh, and the song is nothing if not evocative – closest to the instrumental opener of the album in tone (maybe deliberately), it evokes emotions that don’t necessary seem connected to the song itself. It doesn’t preach to you about what you should be feeling – it just does what it needs to, and leaves a surprisingly hollow yet satisfied feeling when it departs. And thus ends the album’s first half.

Guns

Coldplay stride further into the political than they’ve ever dared to before, and the blisteringly energetic guitars lend a necessary spikiness to this Bob Dylan-esque, fast paced, angry tirade. There’s a typical Coldplay joyfulness to the chorus which contrasts nicely with the tone of the lyrics, and despite making a well-worn message Guns does so whilst managing to feel genuine and foot-tappingly listenable.

Orphans

Here it is, the Big Single. This is what I’d honestly expected the entire album to sound like based on Coldplay’s recent musical trajectory, and it’s not at all unwelcome. Radio-friendly? Yes. Full of “woo-woo”s and “boom-buh-buh-boom”s? Also yes. But Orphans has a warmly nostalgic tone that is undercut by stories of a country whose pleasant, laid-back lifestyle is disrupted by war and tragedy. Coldplay have managed here to make a summer anthem that doesn’t need to be played in the summer – it’s at once transporting and relaxing, poppy but with surprising poignance. It just – just – falls on the right side of being self-indulgent.

Èkó

If Everyday Life is a series of experiments in different musical styles, Èkó sticks the landing more naturally than its peers. Comparisons to Paul Simon’s Graceland have been made, but they do the song a disservice. what Coldplay have created here is something more stripped back, more soothing and more playful – but similarly narrative-driven. Gentle yet jumpy guitars form the foundation on which Chris Martin gently layers a rich image of Lagos and its people. In both its lyrics and its style, Èkó reflects perfectly and sweetly everything that Everyday Life is attempting.

Cry Cry Cry

Somewhere between Lo-Fi Hip Hop Beats to Relax/Study To and a 1950s doo-wop hit (complete with Mr Sandman-stylebacking vocals), this song works better than it ought to. This is very much unlike Coldplay’s usual canon, and doesn’t feel entirely like something that makes sense for a modern album (sounding at most like a sample at the start of a mid-career Kanye song), but the instrumentation and rich, addictive modulated backing vocals allow something deeply satisfying to emerge here. The pre-chorus builds to a natural crescendo and the subsequent hook combines with this for a highly pleasing number, and one that certainly earns a place as one of the most complete tracks on the album.

Old Friends

This song feels very much like Chris Martin trying his hand at a sad indie-folk guitar ballad, with little influence of the rest of the band to be heard in the track (although doubtless they had a hand in their usual collaborative songwriting process), but Martin’s voice and simple yet effective lyrics (Time just / Deepens, sweetens, and mends / Old friends) pack a surprising punch. There’s something of the band’s older work in here, but far more stripped back and with the Parachutes-era angst replaced with an earnest wistfulness. Without wanting to draw too crass a comparison, the song reminds me of the acoustic guitar tune that bookended the final episode of Friends – and the emotional resonance and oppressive nostalgia invoked by the two songs are similar.

Bani Adam

Eh, it’s alright. Coldplay are no strangers to introducing one of the album’s big hitters with a more understated instrumental number, but it has to be said that this one has a diminished impact compared to past efforts. Nothing unpleasant going on here, and the impact of the following track is enhanced by Bani Adam but it’s nothing much on its own, save for being fairly pretty. This sort of thing works much, much better in the context of the whole album – especially when taken in context of the band’s triumphant live debut of the “Sunset” half.

Champion of the World

After much experimentation in the album’s latter side, this feels like more standard Coldplay fare – or rather, a standard late-career song from a late 90s/early 00s band. That being said, it’s far from bland (in the way that such tracks often tend to be) and manages to avoid getting lost in its slightly murky pop mixing. Compared to songs like Guns and Old Friends this song features the entire band in a way that feels more cohesive, and – crucially – features tons of Will Champion’s glorious, lovely vocals. There’s not much to be found outside of the verse-chorus-verse-chorus structure here, but everything works well enough for a fun, uplifting listen.

Everyday Life

Thematically, the album’s main ideas are all present here – a reflection on how all of humanity goes through the same highs and lows, and “Everyone hurts / Everyone cries”. At points the song risks fading into 80s prom ballad cheesiness, but it really wouldn’t be Coldplay without a bit of mopeyness, and it’s genuinely a pleasantly familiar way to ring out the album, though admittedly it’s also one of its less inventive tracks. One final comparison, though – the coda is like an X&Y song delivered with a fresh coat of paint and a more string-based orchestration – and allows the album to depart on a more familiar note after an excitingly new back half.

Everyday Life (the song) ends abruptly, and so too does Everyday Life (the album), but after a typically Coldplay ballad. The band gave themselves freedom to experiment here and in most senses it worked – there are some solidly great songs on this record, and it makes for a wonderful listen overall. They’re not trying to be a hit factory here, but they don’t need to. Apart from anything else, this album gives them huge, exciting scope for where to go next.