Coldplay are lost. Utterly confused. How, after two albums and innumerable world tours did it come to this? What does it all mean? Expectancy grows and chattering builds to a deafening cacophony, threatening to drown out the sound of music and anchor it to the bottom of a well of record shop racks and chart parades. The answer from Coldplay? There is none. The solution? Explain that it means nothing, glorious, sweet fuck all.

‘Speed Of Sound’ is the sweetest of songs, a retreat into cave of upturned palms and genuine wonderment – bugger to new records, have you tried to work out what the hell is going on with the world we’ve made? It’s a dizzying sidestep from any sense of responsibility – what’s the point? Stare at the world and wonder. It’s all random. “Birds came flying from the underground / if you could see it then you'd understand / ah, when you see it then you'll understand”. What’s that? Forget about it…

And the music? New Coldplay, old Coldplay, it’s the same, just that the songs get better. To point out that there’s chiming, echoing piano – ‘just like ‘Clocks’ man’ – is naïve and pointless. It’s Coldplay, and that should be enough. Shattered guitars, sweet falsetto and a gently killer stadium chorus that will be sending chills down your spine on the fourth listen. It’s all good. It’s the sound of a band growing into the shoes that were manufactured for them five years ago. Tenderly magnificent.

“All that noise and all that sound” keens Martin, puzzled, in the pre-chorus. That sound? That’s the sound of Coldplay becoming the biggest band in the world.

If you so wish, you can download this now.