The most unpleasant concert of my life involves swallowing Coldplay frontman Chris Martin’s sweat.
It was at Splendour in the Grass 2011, and I had been pressed against the front fence for almost five hours with my three friends, the daintiest of whom had flown from Perth to Woodfordia in Queensland to see her favourite band, Coldplay. (I was there for Pulp.)
Midway into a tribute to Amy Winehouse that had me wondering if I could bite off my tongue as a means of escape, Chris theatrically flicked his wrist and a globule of sweat singled me out, entering my mouth (agape from boredom) and hitting me square in the back of the throat.
I tasted that sweat as I read Western Australian Premier Mark McGowan’s announcement that Coldplay is coming to Little Old Perth for the first time since 2009, something the state government is describing as a “massive coup” and which also has me considering one.
“It will be great for industry because we’ll get so many people from elsewhere,” McGowan said. When asked about the cost, he followed: “These things are always confidential because we’re in competition with other states and other places.” (In my mind’s eye, those other places are a Saudi Prince’s pleasure palace, a CIA blacksite, and the ring of hell reserved for landlords and divorce attorneys.)
This is just another of the McGowan government’s tourism-by-event money orgies designed to claw back what was lost during WA’s extremely strict lockdown. Along with the underwhelming and peculiar High Voltage AC/DC festival, there’s a sense McGowan wants a perpetual pub-band Live Aid-lite going at all times, a mea culpa that acknowledges WA is a place with diverse tastes, running the gamut from Coldplay to AC/DC — and let’s say the Grease medley they play at weddings.
WA is rolling in cash, of course, with its lithium exports being all the rage, so it’s not like it can’t afford to ship in Coldplay for a night to keep the ravenous hoards of 38-year-old champagne-brunch mums from rioting. But the anonymity of the cost is typical of the way the McGowan government spends like a rich kid shamefully hiding from their mates that their folks pay their rent.
“We can’t reveal the commercial nature of things,” WA Tourism Minister Roger Cook told 6PR. “In 2022-23 we spent $67 million on major events. Of that, we know we got a direct visitor spend of around $125 million. So we’re essentially doubling our money.”
But it’s hard not to feel like this is another dollar-sink pass the parcel, where the money ends up everywhere but in Perth, disappearing into the black hole of a half-shuttered city and its mega-mortgaged citizens like it always does.
The WA government’s inability to imagine a revival/boon brought about by investing in its own arts community is a neat example of its malformed notion of “future planning”. Perth’s music scene and its venues are caught in their protracted version of the opening of Saving Private Ryan, and are in desperate need of government assistance to get back on their feet.
The biggest problem facing Perth as a tourist attraction these days is that wealth inequality has scattered its sense of place to the wind. There is almost no point in attracting interstate and international tourists to a city whose buildings, streets and scenes remain half-empty. You can’t invite people to pay to see a pop-up peep show at a haunted outlet mall and think they’ll leave with a desire to revisit its many liminal spaces once the big tents come down and the circus has left town.
These little one-off cash-grabs do us no favours. Unless McGowan plans on imprisoning Coldplay on a floating prison barge at Elizabeth Quay and having them perform “Clocks” for bemused backpackers all year round, it’s hard to see this as anything other than another round of Three-card Monte where the taxpayers are left shortchanged.
McGowan thinks this is another midsized get that will help boost his exceptionally secure hold on the voters — his people. But perhaps he’d best consider the words of that great British philosopher, one “Super” Hans: “People like Coldplay and voted for the Nazis. You can’t trust people, Jeremy.”
Nailed it.
This is a government with no vision. Even worse, Labor has thrown away its human rights credentials – last week McGowan called underage kids on remand “terrorists”, and happily keeps boys and girls locked up 20 hours a day then moves them to adult prisons when they predictably riot. They are possibly worse than the LNP ever was.
When answering softball questions at a business breakfast last Friday, McGowan was unable to come with any ideas for the future other letting the Resources industry continue to do its thing and then to selling the stuff we get out of the ground to China.
The journo re-asked the question several different ways but kept drawing a blank – the classic was McGowan saying – “well diversity means we are trying lots of different things” without being able to give specifics about any one thing.
I laughed out loud then thought, why the hell not, and asked ChatGPT to “write a short story about how Mike McCann (a fictionalised version of WA premier Mark McGowan) lures the band Coldplay to Perth and then imprisons them on a floating prison barge at Elizabeth Quay where he has them perform “Clocks” for bemused backpackers all year round.”
The ABC should immediately make this into a TV show.
Once upon a time in the sunburnt land of Western Australia, there lived a man named Mike McCann, the Premier of the state. Mike was known for his dry sense of humour and keen insight into political history. He also had a secret obsession with the British band Coldplay. Their music had a magical effect on him, making him feel alive and invincible. He had a particular fondness for their song “Clocks,” which he listened to on repeat while crafting new laws and regulations.
One day, while sipping on his flat white in his office overlooking the Swan River, Mike had a sudden, brilliant idea. Why not invite Coldplay to Perth for a once-in-a-lifetime concert? And not just any concert – one that would surely make him the most popular Premier in Western Australian history.
Mike immediately set to work, using all his political charm and cunning to lure Coldplay to Perth. He sent secret emissaries to London, promising the band members an all-expenses-paid trip to Western Australia, complete with a tour of the majestic Pinnacles desert and a luxurious stay at the exclusive Cable Beach Resort. The only catch, of course, was that they had to perform a single concert in Perth. The band, always eager to please their fans, agreed without hesitation.
Upon their arrival, Coldplay was greeted with great fanfare. The city of Perth had never seen such excitement. Mike McCann, ever the gracious host, welcomed them with open arms and presented them with honorary keys to the city. He escorted them on a whirlwind tour of Western Australia’s most famous landmarks, all the while insisting that they play “Clocks” at various stops along the way. The band, initially bemused by his enthusiasm, soon grew weary of the repetitive requests.
Finally, the day of the concert arrived. Thousands of eager fans packed Elizabeth Quay, anxiously awaiting the performance of a lifetime. As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the city, Coldplay took to the stage, which was cleverly concealed within a floating prison barge. The crowd roared with approval as the familiar opening notes of “Clocks” rang out across the quay.
However, as the song drew to a close, the band members realized that something was amiss. The stage doors had been locked,and they were trapped inside the floating prison barge. Mike McCann appeared on a large screen, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Ladies and gentlemen, and especially the bemused backpackers among you, I present to you the world’s first permanent Coldplay concert!” he announced, his voice booming across the quay. “From this day forth, these talented musicians will grace our fair city with their enchanting melodies, particularly the classic ‘Clocks,’ all year round!”
The crowd gasped in shock and disbelief, while the band members exchanged worried glances. They had been duped by the wily Premier, and now they were trapped in a floating prison, doomed to play “Clocks” for eternity.
As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the people of Perth grew accustomed to the constant soundtrack provided by Coldplay. The bemused backpackers, initially puzzled by the unusual arrangement, soon embraced the spectacle as a unique part of the Western Australian experience.
The band members, however, were less enthusiastic. They grew increasingly tired and disheveled, their once-lustrous hair now a tangled mess, their eyes sunken and hollow from endless performances of “Clocks.” Their pleas for release fell on deaf ears, as Mike McCann staunchly refused to set them free.
However, Coldplay was not without allies. A group of dedicated fans, outraged by the injustice, formed an underground resistance movement. They called themselves the “Clockstoppers” and vowed to liberate the band from their watery prison. The Clockstoppers, comprised of locals and devoted backpackers alike, worked tirelessly to devise a plan to free their beloved musicians.
One fateful night, under the cover of darkness, the Clockstoppers sprang into action. They stealthily approached the floating prison barge, armed with bolt cutters and a small fleet of dinghies. With expert precision, they cut through the chains securing the barge and whisked Coldplay away to safety.
Their mission accomplished, the Clockstoppers celebrated their victory by hosting a secret, intimate concert for the newly liberated band. Coldplay, grateful for their rescue and reinvigorated by the love and support of their fans, played their hearts out, performing hits from their entire discography – with one notable exception.
As for Mike McCann, the morning after the daring escape, he found himself facing a city in uproar. The people of Perth, once enamoured with the Premier’s wacky scheme, now demanded his resignation forimprisoning their beloved band. With his political career in shambles, Mike was left with no choice but to step down from his post.
In the years that followed, Mike McCann faded into obscurity, his name forever associated with the bizarre Coldplay incident. The band, on the other hand, continued to tour the world, thrilling fans with their electrifying performances. However, they never again set foot in Western Australia, their memories of their time on the floating prison barge forever etched in their minds.
And so, the sun set on this peculiar chapter of Western Australian political history. The floating prison barge was dismantled and repurposed into a quirky waterfront café, a popular spot for backpackers and locals alike to reminisce about the time when the sounds of “Clocks” echoed through the air.
Mike McCann, in his retirement, found solace in his extensive collection of Coldplay memorabilia, a reminder of his one-time obsession and the grand, misguided plan that had been his undoing. As for the people of Perth, they learned a valuable lesson: sometimes, even the most brilliant of ideas can have unintended consequences.
And in the end, the world continued to turn, much like the hands of a clock.
Bravo Chat GPT
Wow, I think I’ll be getting ChatGPT to write all my comments from now on
BRILLIANT ?
Super Hans has it. People are cool, and then they suck.
A bit like Labor.
Can we not have any more articles from Patrick telling us how terrible Perth is? Just move to Melbourne, or better yet London and have your cultural cringe over there.
His takes are spot on though.
Exactly, and this is another fine example.
Agree – and mediocre at best.
What’s more cultural cringe than paying an undisclosed fortune to have Coldplay FIFO? Give me a cup of cold sick any day.
Another in your series wear you have a personal bias, act entitled and pretend your whinging is about anything but your personal bias.
And without any redeeming features like humour or writing …