By James Pavel

Bedtime Stories would serve as a more accurate title for Coldplay’s dozy sixth album, “Ghost Stories” in what is a half-asleep attempt at capturing the sounds of the un-living.

They are one of few bands left that can make a few pounds from releasing records and based on the ambivalence of this supposed, darker Coldplay species, maybe selling out shows and taking home a few bucks is all they’ve become interested in at this point.

It is the moodiest of their releases, the first album where an unmistakable shadow has been cast over the group, i.e. the divorce of lead singer Chris Martin and Gwyneth Paltrow.

Although that trivial gossip is best left to People and US Magazine, it is impossible to not consider how the collapse of this marriage may have been the crank to turn this album into a melancholic, half-awake drifter.

The album’s ambience would be best suited accompanying the film “The Beach,” if it required a dystopian sequel.

The nucleus of the problem is that audiences don’t want Chris Martin to rock them back and forth; they want to blame him for another rush of blood to the head.

Coldplay temporarily snap out of their dreamy coma with the track, “Sky full of Stars” but it’s predominantly a shameful attempt at guaranteed radio play. The trite EDM boomerang piano sound, where the noise slowly escalates as the beat’s pace accelerates paired with a soulless chorus that could chant virtually anything short of “We didn’t really know what to say at this part, so here’s a line we figured would suffice,” is lazy and nowhere near the scale of the tremor-inducing “Fix You,” or “Politik.”

“Ink” yelps about how the subject got a tattoo, like a 17-year-old fresh out of rebellion ideas. The song recycles old Coldplay themes such as being lost (“Lost,”) and love having such a sensation that it literally hurts “Hurts like Heaven.”

“True Love” shows hints of a developing Phil Collins, a guitar cricketing near a star-kissed pond that operates as the ideal segway for their most mysterious track to date, “Midnight.” This duo is the most exhilarating aspect of the album, a small but powerful portion that demonstrates how Coldplay has remained such a majestic quartet for over the balance of a decade.

They generally have manufactured their own path into the minds of millions, before the release of Mylo Xyloto. The first single was “Every Teardrop is a Waterfall” and it was the beginning of Coldplay nixing the Viva La Vida, neo-Sergeant Pepper outfits in favour of fluorescent ensembles.

Suddenly, Coldplay seemed to care what people thought of them.

The past two albums have shown Coldplay gleefully surrender potential future accolades in favour of reaching an even broader fan base via radio, through mindless tracks such as “Paradise,” and the aforementioned, dance-heavy anthems.

They understand that today’s generation want to move and groove like everyday begs for rain, so Coldplay have therefore sacrificed a promising legacy for temporary gratification by giving mindless dancers exactly what they crave.

Coldplay is partially this generation’s Bon Jovi, but with less sex appeal and more substance. Both are iconic in terms of their ability to rock out an entire hockey arena, and Coldplay sound as though they believe this is all that matters anymore.