My Coldplay.com

In 2000, British quartet Coldplay played the Tabernacle in the interval between album No. 1, “Parachutes,” and album No. 2, “A Rush of Blood to the Head.”

It was a little dull.

The problem? Coldplay’s expansive rock is arena-sized, and it needs a space as big as the band’s soaring choruses.

Problem solved.

At Philips Arena Wednesday night, the group’s massive wall of sound washed over a packed house in a textbook display of arena-rock perfection.

The younger Coldplay of five years ago was perfectly competent musically but had a tentative feel and little charisma. Wednesday night, frontman Chris Martin was a dynamo, rocking back and forth on his piano stool like a man possessed, skipping giddily across the stage, crouching tigerlike atop cabinets at either side of the stage, running through the audience. He was as eager and appreciative as a rambunctious puppy — and just as irresistible.

With Martin’s evolution into Hollywood husband (of Gwyneth Paltrow) and tabloid fodder, his bandmates are seen — if they’re seen at all — as a faceless backing band. There’s no doubt that Martin is the star of the show, his keening voice and enthusiasm the engine that keeps the band running. But his cohorts demonstrated that Coldplay is a band, that they’re not Martin’s sidemen.

“God Put a Smile Upon Your Face” was pumped up to epic proportions by Jonny Buckland’s piercing guitar, and the rhythm section of bassist Guy Berryman and drummer Will Champion pounded like a jackhammer on “Politik” (which included lyrical shout-outs to R.E.M. and OutKast). They were both awesome displays in a show chock-full of goosebump-inducing moments.

There was the unexpected but lovely tribute to Johnny Cash, with the band all gathered at the front of the stage. There were powerful takes on fan favorites like “Yellow” (as yellow, confetti-filled balloons fell from the ceiling), “In My Place” and recent radio hit “Speed of Sound.”

There were endearing imperfections, too, like Martin’s false start and self-deprecating apology on “The Scientist” (although we hear he’s done that on earlier tour dates) and the hole, probably exertion-induced, in the singer’s shirt.

Martin professed the band’s love for Atlanta again and again, taking pains to assure the audience that it wasn’t something he’s been saying to every city on the tour. It speaks volumes about his charm that you couldn’t help but believe him.

At the very least, you can bet that not every city on the tour got an encore that included Martin playing piano as Michael Stipe sang R.E.M.’s haunting beauty “Nightswimming.”

AJC.COM