I first heard Parachutes being played in a shop and was so gobsmacked by how fantastic it sounded, I overcame the shame of asking who it was by.

I mean, it isn't easy admitting you don't know what everyone else surely must, particularly to a 16-year-old shop assistant.

Hooked ever since, I'm still astounded by quite how good they are.

Of course, no one would go to see Coldplay if they didn't like them but to come away finding they are better than could be hoped for is remarkable.

Their anthemic songs truly found their place in the stadium-sized Brighton centre, the polished set they performed never flagged and then there was Chris.

Yes, the boy can sing and it's certainly true the timbre of his voice could turn even the iciest heart to mush. But it's more than that. It's about, well, him.

On stage, he's so passionate, unashamed and unembarrassed about making us love the songs he sings as much as he does, the performance could not fail.

Transformed into a king of cool, in between songs he made almost awkward stabs at conversation, which only increased his overwhelming sense of humanity.

In the most cheesy form of analysis, Chris cares. Not about his fans, though he probably does, but about what Coldplay are doing.

It's just fortunate for the rest of the world what they're doing is worth caring about quite so much.

Review by Louise Ramsay, features@theargus.co.uk