Ahead of their record-making fifth Glastonbury appearance – why the British rock band have overcome the naysayers to become the era's most triumphant artists. It is strange to recall a time when Coldplay were not ubiquitous. I first met frontman Chris Martin, guitarist Jonny Buckland, bass-player Guy Berryman and drummer Will Champion at what they later described as the worst show they had ever played.
It was the Paredes de Coura festival in Portugal in August 2000. By their own admission, they failed to win over an apathetic crowd and were utterly outshone by headliners The Flaming Lips. At home, their debut album Parachutes was a Mercury-nominated smash destined to sell five million copies.
In Portugal, nada. As the set limped on, Martin became cripplingly apologetic. "Has anyone ever heard of us here?" he asked plaintively before playing Yellow .
"This is our hit single in England." His insecurity was compounded by a swelling backlash at home. They were widely characterised as a more wide-eyed Travis or a U-rated Radiohead for people who didn't like the weird stuff.
To some, they epitomised British rock's post-Britpop malaise: pleasant, tuneful young men who still looked like the students they had so recently been and were not remotely rock'n'roll. It got heated. "People who don't like you talk about you like you're the Third Reich," Martin protested .
Even as they proceeded to become the biggest band in Britain, and then one of the biggest in the world, the brickbats ke.