On September 2nd, 2016, I traveled back to San Jose, California from New Orleans to see Coldplay. My mom got tickets on discount and they played during Labor Day weekend. I’ve wanted to see them in concert for years. YEARS. It finally happened and I was the giddiest of the group. My excessive amount of enthusiasm compensated for my brother’s lack of.

I’m not a crier. I hardly ever cry. But less than five minutes into the show I was moved to tears and plunged into an unforgiving yet satisfiable, uncontrollable sob.

Call me basic, call me mainstream, call whatever you want. I don’t care. I, as well as many others scattered among the globe, love them to pieces.

I think everyone has a band that serves as a type of musical base to inspire the rest of their tastes and lead them to more diverse artists. Coldplay is that band for me. They’re a talented bunch, and of everything I admire their coverage of the spectrum of human emotions in such a sweet, effortless simplicity.

Listen to the song “Kaleidoscope” on Coldplay’s newest album “Head Full of Dreams” and see what I mean…

“this being human is a guest house

every morning a new arrival

a joy, a depression, a meanness

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor

welcome and entertain them all!

be grateful for whoever comes

because each has been sent as a guide.”

It’s poetry. Literally. The poem is called “Guest House” and it’s from the 13th century Persian poet Rumi. Though it wasn’t written by Coldplay, this single track, Kaleidoscope, embodies the vast spectrum of songs Coldplay has produced. Each pain and melancholy and anxiety and joy. All of it. I can’t recall a time when I haven’t been able to listen to Coldplay, because there’s a song for everything I feel. Usually it’s not the lyrics that remind me, but the music alone speaks for itself.

We all appropriate our memories to our favorite artist’s songs. I tend to be more detached from my music. I listen to the content of songs, I appreciate it, I understand it, but never have I listened to an artist whose songs have consistently related to my own personal experiences while also emotionally moving me as much as Coldplay. Each track brings me back to different memories. When I listen to “Strawberry Swing,” I think of my dad. “Yellow” reminds me of the Awakening Retreat last year and the insurmountable closeness I felt to God through my peers. When I listen to “42,” I remember my grandmother and her ability to continue to exist through my memory of her and through the handwritten letters we wrote to one another. “42” clutches my heart and hangs on tight. “Yellow” puts a stupid smile on my face. “Strawberry Swing” makes me ache for the car conversations I had with my dad back in California. “Midnight” sounds like ghost whispers. “Adventure of a Lifetime” makes me want to jump out of a plane (reference to my birthday skydiving trip with Courtney Rosala to commemorate two decades of life on this planet).

I could go on. I have deep respect for the honesty in their music and their attempt to make the world a more compassionate place using the language of the universe—music. This isn’t to say that I love every single song they’ve ever produced, but I will say that they have become my favorite band. I mean, they make me cry.