It's common knowledge that anyone who is a heterosexual male over the age of 14 and in full possession of his auditory senses is required to dislike Coldplay if he wants to consider himself hip. This unspoken standard has presented a conundrum for me ever since Coldplay first entered the popular consciousness; while I fulfill all of the aforementioned requirements (especially the one about wanting to be hip), I am bitterly protective of my self-aggrandizing belief that I stand among the precious, enlightened few who know exactly why Coldplay sucks beyond the fact that The 40-Year-Old Virgin tells me so: their songs are shamelessly derivative; their albums are overproduced to the razor's edge of unbreathable sonic mush; their lead singer allowed Gwyneth Paltrow to name his children after a fruit and Charlton Heston, respectively. And yet, at the same time...I also kind of like them.
This seemingly irreconcilable internal conflict would have likely driven me to madness had it not been for the courage of '80s-era cheese-guitar virtuoso Joe Satriani to come forward and demand that Coldplay give him all of their money.
The fact that Coldplay's "Viva la Vida" really does kind of sound like Satriani's "If I Could Fly" is beside the point. What matters is the fact that a musician who hadn't been heard from in two decades--and who was only ever known strictly for playing the electric guitar, not for playing real songs with words--suing a band that is currently quite popular--but who, based on their technical merits, could easily fail to stand the test of time--for plagiarism is super-ironic. Irony is hip; therefore, Coldplay is hip (for a few hours today, at least); therefore, I (with acknowledgment to the same caveat) am indisputably hip.
But only because I don't really like Coldplay, unlike the rest of you losers.