Last November, a friend messaged me, asking whether I’d be in Singapore in April 2017. Two months into sudden unemployment and anxiety-ridden about what I was going to do with the rest of my life (job hunts can be nerve-wracking, okay?), I answered with a “LOL whut [sic]”, followed by a solid, “Who the hell knows, man?” Turns out the reason he was asking was because Coldplay had announced that they were going to be performing in Singapore on April 1 for the first time in eight years. After confirming that it wasn’t a very early April Fool’s joke, I put all thoughts of unemployment and money issues aside and immediately texted back “I WANT I WANT I WANT”, because, well, I did WANT, WANT, WANT.
See, I’ve never really been much of a concert goer. I love music, but a part of me doesn’t feel like it’s worth spending money to hear the same things I could hear in better quality at home, while NOT being stampeded by sweaty crowds. I only make exceptions with singers/bands I really like and whose music I’ve listend to a LOT (and it’s a definite requirement that they sound good live), and/or singers/bands who make the concert special in some way. My first ever English concert was Jason Mraz, who sang flawlessly and played acoustic guitar for us in the newly opened Gardens by the Bay, and really engaged the audience with singalongs. My second major concert was slightly out of character for me. At the time I went to see them, Bastille had only had one album, and I hadn’t even listened to most of their music. Somehow, what I’d heard convinced me they were worth watching live, and I listened only to their music for a week before the concert to “prepare”. (It, of course, paid off – I sang along to everything). In that vein, Coldplay has always been one of the bands I’ve wanted to experience first-hand, mostly because I love their earlier music (I don’t care how cheesy it is, any music that informs your teenage years will stick with you) and because Coldplay concerts are, by all accounts, colourful, magical lightshows of rainbows and bliss.
So, of course, with all this build-up and hype, Uncle Murphy (TM Sayesha) had to stick his big, ugly head in, and we didn’t get tickets for April 1, because they sold out in literally a heartbeat. I was devastated and mourned the loss in an appropriate way (by listening to Fix You many times and crying a lot). Then I left for India on vacation, and I got wind that because of the overwhelming demand, Coldplay had announced a second date for Singapore. So, after another round of “I WANT I WANT I WANT”, my friends and I managed to secure tickets, albeit much, much more expensive ones. I didn’t even care that I was spending what was potentially lifeline money at this point, I just felt that I deserved to go.
So, of course, fate intervened again. I got the job the India, and I don’t think it would have been good etiquette to have asked if I could please, please join in April because I really wanted to go to the Coldplay concert on March 31st, pretty please? I thought for a while that I may still do a quick trip to Singapore just for the concert, but the thought of spending as much as I already had for the concert tickets just for a weekend felt needlessly excessive. So, with a very heavy heart, like a totally unreasonable person, I put my ticket up for sale.
One of my friends attended the concert and sent me pictures, and I fully believe her claim that it was a wonderful experience. At least three other unconnected friends on Instagram went for the concert, and all their pictures and videos are proof of how sensational it must be to watch a band you love with some 50,000 other people who feel the same way. I can only hope I get the chance to do that some day. Maybe when I’m 50, and everyone feels like a “reunion” or “throwback” concert, yeah? I’m down.
Oh, well, I paid my own little tribute to the band over the weekend by nursing a terrible, terrible cold. Now, excuse me while I play this video on repeat…