At Seattle's White River Amphitheatre on Tuesday, August 16

Let me hip you to a little secret. If you ever find yourself on a traffic-snarled back road in Auburn, Washington, en route to a concert at the White River Amphitheatre, just breathe easy, stay loose, and hope that you left good and early. With congestion beginning around 5 in the afternoon and lasting way past this event's 8 p.m. start time, many disappointed fans missed out on the first couple of songs from U.K. chart toppers Coldplay.

Still, devotees came in droves to praise Chris Martin and company as they executed their trademark brand of emotive pop in a well-rehearsed manner. Three-minute sonic sermons for the melody-starved masses were delivered in songs like "Yellow", "Clocks", "The Scientist", and "The Speed of Sound", each one executed with verve and passion. Judging from the wide-grinning smiles that reached to the furthest recesses of the 20,000-capacity venue on the large monitor above the stage, the members of Coldplay were enjoying themselves. Playing for almost two hours, the black-clad Brits had the endurance of seasoned yoga instructors. There's no denying the bond between the group and their followers. It's electric, real, and almost a bit overwhelming for nonbelievers.

Still, if God had the funky-meter out, the holiest racket was kicked up by Vancouver rock deities Black Mountain. The up-and-coming five-piece was, mind-bogglingly, asked by Coldplay to open the shows on its current tour. Black Mountain thus found the courage to take up the daunting task of playing in front of thousands of people who don't give a shit about them. It's a crying shame the band's music fell largely on deaf ears. With the majority of the audience having yet to find its seats, their gnarly set was met with blank stares, bar a riotous crew of lovely tie-dyed supporters from Vancouver. The lysergic crunch of "Don't Run Our Hearts Around" filled the amphitheatre with pure power, and all the extra amplification suited the rock-steady unit, despite a muddled, bottom-heavy mix that at least improved with each number.

Josh Wells's stick work sounded like the coming of the apocalypse, with the bass drum in particular packing a 10-ton punch. Amber Webber sang as sweet as honey, and Jeremy Schmidt's spaced-out keyboards meshed perfectly with the superb bass moves of Matt Camirand. But it was lead singer and guitarist Steve McBean who impressed the most-his shredding almost severed heads down in the pit. It was enough to make you sorry for everyone caught in traffic on the road outside.