Fix You by Coldplay

In this episode we'll get into the savior complex, and the aching desire of "Fix You" lyrics.

Transcript

Love Lines from ‘Fix You’ by Coldplay


I played basketball in college. It was my first foray into diverse, intimate groups. Diverse because there were girls on the team from across Indiana and Illinois, not only my urban hometown of Gary, Indiana. Intimate because 11 or 12 girls is a relatively small party. We often broke out into even smaller factions and spent insane amounts of time together. Between, practice, working out, games, traveling to games, and hanging at someone’s apartment after many of these instances, we frequented each other’s personal space.

Of all my teammates, I was closest to Kristin. She had an apartment near the school and a purple Chevy Cavalier with a front license plate that read KB Swish. I sprawled my body across her living room futon many nights. Laughing. Chitchatting. Being. Until darkness rolled into daylight. Everything you can imagine two young women talking about, we talked about.

Kristin introduced me to Coldplay. On our drives to White Castle or Dairy Queen, she’d play her latest mix CD. Her playlists were always the most random, least orchestrated collection of songs. Hardcore hip-hop would follow 90s R&B or a lovesick ballad. DMX would follow Shania Twain, followed by NSYNC, followed by Green Day, followed by Celine Dion, followed by Snoop Dogg. It was all over the place.

In the days of burning mix CDs, you normally set an intentional mood. You had one with love songs you’d play when attempting to establish a romantic atmosphere with another person or when alone and dreaming of having a person. You had a CD with high energy songs to lift your spirits. Maybe you had a disc with all sad songs or complete gangster rap. Point is, the arrangements were usually consistent. Not my buddy’s though. She threw together her latest favorite tunes in no particular order and jammed out.

I can’t remember exactly which Coldplay song came up in Kristin’s odd rotation, but it was from the A Rush of Blood to the Head album. So, probably Clocks or The Scientist. Something attention-grabbing and unlike anything I’d ever heard but tame enough to resonate with untrained ears. Whichever track she played birthed the diehard Coldplay fan inside me.

I backtracked to the beginning of the group’s timeline and bought Parachutes. It and A Rush of Blood to the Head were all I listened to for months when alone. I ran miles and lifted weights with both blaring through my headphones despite the melancholic, emo vibe of most songs.

Then came the X & Y album. Then came one of its standout tracks, “Fix You.” Then came my declaration of Coldplay as my favorite group because they gave me all the feels.

As a youngster who often felt broken, the idea that someone could fix me, that someone might care to attempt such a thing was the most romantic notion I’d ever considered. I’d close my tear-filled eyes while blasting “Fix You” and let the warmth of this notion wash over me. I’d sit in this space where I felt adored and protected or could at least sense how it might feel. 

As a full-fledged adult, I recognize the futile, toxic nature of believing we can fix another human. We’ve likely all at some point, in some fashion fallen victim to the savior complex. It makes us feel useful, purposeful, I suppose—repairing broken things. 

Although I now comprehend the sentiment of “Fix You” as fruitless, I simultaneously hold space for its burning demonstration of affection. We’re all broken. Some perhaps more than others. How beautiful it is for someone to be patient and gentle with our damaged parts.

Coldplay front man Chris Martin doesn’t say he will fix you. He says he’ll try. Even he knows there are no guaranteed results with this endeavor. Yet, he undertakes it anyway.

The entire lyrical arrangement and melody of “Fix You” drips with aching desire. Martin, the drums, and the guitar are pleading. Lines that hit hardest for me are:

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse? 

No, in such moments, it does not feel as though things could be worse. When it seems all the love you have is not enough, you are as low as you believe you can go. Sadly, predictably, this is often the outcome when pouring love into a broken vessel not yet ready for repair.

Still, the effort is admirable. There is a tenderness about the bleeding heart. When someone wants to fix you as badly as Coldplay conveys with this ballad, you might consider letting them.