On a glowering November morning — sky bruising, wind whipping, rain threatening — Coldplay’s Will Champion shows up at Sydney’s Coogee Beach as a perfect counterpoint to the weather. The drummer is sunny and solicitous under his trucker hat, strolling along the famous path toward Bondi with a gentleness and courtesy (“Oh no, after you!” “Do you need a hand?”) one might not entirely expect of a man who hits things for a living. The night before, toward the end of Coldplay’s fourth Music of the Spheres show at Sydney’s Accor Stadium, bandmate Chris Martin had introduced Champion thusly: “There are some people who look very, very scary and then turn out to be just the sweetest people in the world, and when we met our drummer, Will, we were all terrified of him — and the truth is, we still kind of are. But when you get to know him…you’ll see that he’s just the softest, sweetest, incredible hulkest kind of person, and he keeps us together on a daily basis.”
Champion doesn’t look so scary today, with his shaved head under the hat and his drum kit nowhere in sight, but the sweetness and softness definitely track. In an interview for Rolling Stone‘s January cover story on the band, he’s keen to talk about his wife and kids, his talent for flying under the radar, his love for his bandmates, his gratitude for the ride they’ve had, and the debt they owe other bands for demonstrating the power of joy.
You always hear about Chris and Jonny Buckland meeting, the Coldplay origin story. But do you remember your first interaction with any of the other guys?
Yeah, very clearly. We were all in the same hall of residence together, Ramsey Hall [at University College London]. And there was a bar in the basement, a brilliant bar with a fantastically grumpy bar lady called Eileen. It had pool tables and pinball machines and university-subsidized beer prices. I met Johnny at the pool table on the very first night everyone moved in. That’s where I met Guy [Berryman] as well. I don’t think I met Chris until a few days later when we were on a coach together going to some sort of sports thing.
Growing up, were you popular?
Not particularly. Certainly not in the cool crowd. Slightly nerdy and somewhere in the middle, I suppose — not an outcast by any means, but just not connected to any tribe in particular. As a teenager, I was mostly keeping my head down, and trying not to attract attention from the kids who liked to scrap a fight. My school was quite rough, but there was a really good music teacher.
I know around the time of X&Y, there was a moment that was kind of a low point for Coldplay, and you all figured out that you needed to come up with ways to make the band work if you were going to continue. Do you still feel like you’re tweaking that?
Definitely. But again, it’s like some sort of artificial intelligence. The more data you feed it, the more accurate the output is. The more that we spend time doing what we’re doing — through the successes and failures — ultimately it just becomes more efficient and a happier place. So since X&Y — and really that’s probably one of the turning points — we’ve always really tried to recognize that we’re in a very fortunate position, and we don’t want to waste it. We’re lucky that we understand a lot about the things that drive bands apart, and we’ve tried to deal with those quite early on. And we recognize that we’re only as good as the four of us together.
You all got successful very quickly, but were your parents ever scared that you were spending all this time with the band and about what the future would hold?
I don’t think so. My mom was a musician at heart and loved what little progress we’d made at that point while she was still around. [Champion’s mother died of cancer in 2000; her funeral was the same day the video for “Yellow” was shot, which is why only Martin appears in it.] She was very supportive. The advice was, “Just get your degree because you never know.” That’s very sound — same advice as I would probably give my kids if they were going into it. And it was helpful that we signed our deal just before we did our finals. April ’99 we signed, we did our exams in May, and then that was that.
You studied anthropology?
Yeah. My parents are both archaeologists, and I really enjoyed anthropology. Obviously it opens your eyes and mind to the variations, the different ways it’s possible to be a human on this planet, but also those things that really connect you. And it also really teaches you to question the dominant narrative. My family was always like, “Well, clearly there’s another side to this story.” Traveling the world and going to all these places that we’ve got to visit in the last 26 years, it allows you to go into things with more open eyes.
Touring the world for 26 years — that type of longevity doesn’t happen to most bands.
No. I think it’s a mixture of a few things. Firstly, I think it’s the strength of Chris’ melodies. Melodically, the things that he’s consistently able to come up with are just wonderful, timeless, and I think that’s the reason that we can go to countries where there’s no inherent connection with lyrics. It’s more about, “What does this sound like? How’s it making me feel?”
But maybe the other reason is that we’ve done quite a lot of work on how to keep together, how to maintain: “How does it work so the four of us are happy and healthy and able to enjoy what we’re doing, but also put on a good show?” But then also [we’ve worked] on the mission, I suppose: “What are we trying to do with these shows?” I think we’re lucky that we’ve been able to keep it together, the four of us, so we can really benefit from our collective learnings. Now we’re better musicians, we’re better friends, and we’re better at what we do. We have fans who weren’t alive when Parachutes came out. It’s possible some of their parents have been playing these records to them. [laughs]
Possibly. But I talked to some fans at your show last night, and many of them said they came to the music themselves. They just heard songs on the radio or are into BTS.
One of our great joys is when you look out [at the audience] and there are five-year-old kids and pensioners. It’s wonderful. And there are not that many things where you can get that feeling, I suspect. I’m very proud of that. And I think it also speaks to how Chris just has this amazing enthusiasm for trying new things and wanting different and new experiences.
Speaking of, how was it releasing Moon Music on QVC?
Well, it’s kind of funny. Traditional promotion doesn’t seem to cut through anymore. It’s so difficult these days to try and reach people. There are so many avenues that people receive their news slash music, whatever it is. So I think it was, “Well, what are we actually doing here to cut to the bare bones of it?” Someone came up with the idea, we discussed it, and we went, “All right, well, it’s kind of strange.” But rather than the sort of chin-stroking, big set piece, very thoughtful, very earnest promo things and videos and whatnot, I think sometimes little quirky things [work]. Something that shows a bit of humor and a bit of—
Taking the piss?
In a way, but also they’re very serious, QVC, about selling stuff. It’s like, “No, if you’re going to come on, this is not a joke. We need to sell some stuff.”
You wrote Moon Music while you were touring Music of the Spheres.
Yeah. During breaks in the tour, we would try to get together whenever we could in various places. But Chris is obviously relentless, just never stops. We always say after a leg of the tour, “Please just rest a little bit.” And then within a day or two, there’s an email saying, “Hey, got this new idea.” It’s wonderful. I wouldn’t ever want to take any breaks on his creativity, because he really needs it to make sense of [his life].
So when you get an email with a new song from Chris, is it a melody? Is it lyrics?
Sometimes it’s a full song. It’s like, “Okay, that’s done.”
And then you add your bits, and you all workshop it that way.
Yeah, exactly. Sometimes we just try not to fuck it up, try not to embellish it too much. That can also be a problem sometimes — the demo-itis — where you have this perfect thing that captures everything you want, but it’s not in a presentable state because the sound quality isn’t there. But part of the charm is its crustiness and imperfection. Then you try to take it apart, analyze it, “What is making it so good?” And you take it into the studio and try to recreate that, but sometimes it doesn’t quite work.
But then other times, songs just appear. Some of them are fully-formed, almost like the lyrics have written themselves. I remember “The Scientist” was one of those. We were in Liverpool for the weekend, then went back to London, and then on the Monday morning we came back, [Chris was like], “Listen to this one.” And it was just, “Okay, we need to record this immediately, not mess it up.”
You mentioned earlier a refining of the mission over the years. What does that mean to you?
Well, the message has always been largely the same, which is hope, optimism in the face of all the negativity. But I think the mission has a crystallized commitment. As I said, we’ve been so fortunate to do this again and again. And through all these iterations of the tour and as the technology that we use improves for the live shows, it becomes clearer that it’s about providing an opportunity for people to have a really nice time and enjoy being in a large crowd, and it’s a safe place, away from negativity of the news in general.
I wonder if that’s why younger people are embracing Coldplay now, because there’s a yearning for that in this day and age?
Yeah, maybe so. We’re certainly not the only people [providing that opportunity], so we can’t claim that as our own. We are standing on the shoulders of the giants. So much of what we’ve tried to achieve in our live shows comes from having seen wonderful shows growing up and, as we were starting to play festivals and things like that, getting to see other bands, what they did, how they engaged with their audiences. One absolute seminal moment was seeing the Flaming Lips in ’99 at Glastonbury. Even with their quirky, beautiful, slightly broken, bittersweet songs, they were able to create this amazing sense of joy and make a wonderful circus.
Were you just out in the audience?
Yes, in the audience. And at the time we were very much in our angsty, early-20s, broody, and kind of insecure [phase], thinking about, “What’s next?” And then just watching the production of the Flaming Lips was so wonderful. Obviously they drew inspiration from bands like U2 doing amazing things on scale. And so we were able to kind of come up alongside and ride the coattails of some wonderful live acts. I think that’s really where our band makes sense most now, is in the live arena.
The day an album comes out, are you nervous? Do you have anxiety about it?
Not at all. It’s done. The day that you hand it over, the day that you say, “Okay, we can’t do any more work on it now,” that’s the right one to be nervous about. I think once you’ve done that, there’s not much you can do about it.
How do you know when it’s time to let it go?
Someone says, “We have to let it go.”
You would keep tinkering and tinkering?
Oh, fuck yeah. It’s problematic, eternal tinkering. But also it’s problematic these days because now people say, “Oh, don’t worry, we just need this one deadline for the vinyls, but then we can change it for Spotify.” You can keep changing things. It’s a nightmare. If someone said that you could keep rewriting your articles—
Oh, God!
It’s like, “No, don’t worry! Have another go!” It’s endless. Not much fun. Normally we know roughly when anything we’re doing is sort of detracting, when anything we are adding is actually making things worse. You get to that point where we start to strip things away rather than add. That’s the sign that we’re getting close.
But then when we have such a prolific songwriter like Chris, it’s not unusual that we’ll have a week to go and we’re kind of just polishing songs up, and he’ll say, “Guys, just one more.” And so there’s a mad rush to do it wherever we are. Then we have to record it in 10 minutes in this tour studio, which happened for one of the songs on this record.
Which one?
“I’m a Mountain.” And then we had the situation with this song, “Karate Kid” — which I absolutely love; it’s beautiful — and that came just too late to get on the record.
It would’ve been though?
I would’ve fought hard for it. But then — I don’t know — albums these days, it’s difficult to know what [they are]. To the purists, and to us clearly, we would want to make records that are coherent from top to bottom. But the way that lots of people listen to music these days is not that linear.
Speaking of how songs are chosen for the albums, I’ve heard that what you say kind of goes at the end of the day. Is that true?
Yes and no. I think that I’m quicker to say things. I think I know the feeling that I get when Chris has brought us a song that just instantly hits me like a train. And I get frustrated when that doesn’t happen.
I’m selfish in that respect. Johnny and Guy are much better at being open-minded about stuff and saying, “Well, let’s see where it goes. It’s a good start.” I feel like I have strong reactions to songs immediately, and if it’s something that I love, I fight for it super hard. If it’s something that’s not connecting with me, I tend to not be as enthusiastic about it. To give a classic example — “Clocks” — that’s an early one where I said, “What? There’s not even a song.” And clearly it’s a different type of song, which has now become something that we do quite regularly now, a song that is more about a melodic pattern than a lyrical phrase. So sometimes I’m guilty of putting my opinion down too early. And Chris is very gracious about it.
Thinking back to the tour, which has been going on a long time now, what’s your best memory of it and what’s your worst memory?
The very beginning, coming out of Covid, there were very significant challenges to setting up a new tour from scratch. So many of the people, the providers of all the things that we need to make a tour — staging, lighting, special effects, video, soundproofing — a huge amount of those companies were just completely screwed and had no ability to start up from scratch.
Glastonbury was a high point. In retrospect, it was one of those weird shows that, at the time, you don’t really know whether it’s successful or not. The last time we did Glastonbury, we played at the very beginning of a touring schedule, and so we didn’t really know [how the show would be received]. But this time, we’d done 150 of the same show, and you get very used to the way the energy flies around and the reactions you get from certain songs. Being in Glastonbury, it’s so huge, 120,000 people or whatever, and in a flat field, [so it’s] very difficult to have the same sense of whether things are landing or not. I can remember coming off-stage thinking, “That was either the worst show we’ve ever done or the best.” I had no idea. It wasn’t until my wife said, “Watch it” — because it was broadcast on the BBC — that I was like, “Oh wow, that looks really good.”
Coldplay is only releasing two more albums. How do you feel about that?
I don’t think too much about it, to be quite honest, because I’m not very good at thinking long-term. We’re still in the midst of this tour, and we have plenty of shows to go before we contemplate what’s next.
You don’t know when the tour is going to end, right?
Not really. I know we’re committed through to the end of next year [2025], which is amazing. But then beyond that, I don’t know. It’s always good to have targets. If you don’t set yourself some parameters, it can be hard to channel all of one’s energy into something. And also, things have changed so much since we started making music, and started releasing music. The way that people consume music, for want of a better word, or how people listen to it, how people engage with it, it’s just so different.
It’s wonderful having teenage kids because they really give you a sense of how out-of-touch you are. My kids send me music, and it’s wonderful. They’re so engaged — and they have access to more music than I ever did — but also it comes quite cheaply to them. You know what I mean? They don’t have to fight to find stuff. They don’t have to travel on a train to go to the record store. Or get clothes. My God, clothes when I was growing up in the Eighties were dreadful, and the shops in my town were awful. To get anything resembling cool clothes, you had to get on a train.
How old are your kids now?
Eighteen and two 16s. The oldest has just gone to university.
Obviously they know their dad’s a rock star, but do they seem to care?
Yeah, I remind them every morning. [laughs] Well, they’ve kind of grown up on tour ever since they were babies. And they know we’re lucky because the core of our crew has been with us since our first album.
Yeah, which is amazing.
It’s wonderful. And for [my kids], it’s like a happy place being on tour. They’re always kind and say that they like the music — though I wouldn’t expect that to be the case all the time — but they love being on tour, and they love the shows. They love the feeling. So yeah, I’m lucky in that respect. But then also I’m really fortunate in that I fly quite low under the radar. I can wander around and do my grocery shopping without anyone worrying too much.
When you’re in London, you can go about your business without getting recognized?
Totally. One hundred percent. It’s a special skill I’ve cultivated over the years to be completely anonymous. [laughs] Once in a blue moon someone might come up and say, “Are you Johnny?” and I say “no” and walk away.
You don’t correct them?
No, no. I’m a very literal person. [laughs]
