I soaked up everything they dished out: their second single from The Unforgettable Fire was "A Sort of Homecoming," and MTV started showing clips from the band's 1982 concert at Red Rocks Amphitheater outside of Denver (which later became 1983's Under the Blood Red Sky). I was captivated because they a) didn't have the glamour-puss looks of the metal hair bands of the 80's, b) possessed a well-developed social conscience, c) were Christians, and d) made thrilling music. Bono's presence on the Band Aid ("Do They Know It's Christmas?") and Artists United Against Apartheid ("Sun City") projects kept the band on my radar while I explored their past work--Boy, October, and War. I have vivid memories attached to each album.
In 1987, Rolling Stone was breathlessly awaiting the release of The Joshua Tree. So was I. My sister was dating a guy who had promised to get me a copy of the cassette tape (at that time in the history of the world, tapes were the way to go, and a $9.99 cassette tape was a lot of money for an underemployed teenager). Joshua Tree was released. The dude never fulfilled his promise. Out of pity, my sister bought me the tape herself. One of the simple joys of my youth was getting a new cassette tape, retreating to my basement bedroom, and listening to the whole thing in solitude. The Joshua Tree was a revelation--rich, layered, structured, completely accessible but not-too-poppy, cosmically themed but rooted in the American West. It was (and 25 years later still is) eminently pleasing. It remains my single favorite recording of all-time: from the chariots and cathedrals opening of "Where the Streets Have No Name," to the Biblical imagery and longing of "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For," to the bombs and breathlessness of "Bullet the Blue Sky," to the pathos of "With or Without You," to the serious simplicity of "Running to Stand Still" (which remains my favorite U2 song)...I could go on through the entire album, it's second side even better than the first--"Red Hill Mining Town," "In God's Country," "Trip Through Your Wires," and "One Tree Hill" being perhaps the greatest series of songs on any album at any time.
By the time Rattle & Hum came out in 1988, U2 had in many ways gotten too big for me. I was not interested in a music adored by the masses, wishing instead to have a bead on the next big thing or a more obscure band with similar sensibilities and song-craft. When Achtung Baby came out my freshman year in college, I listened to and enjoyed the music, but could not find the enjoyment that I'd found in The Unforgettable Fire and The Joshua Tree.
One reason the band was losing favor with me (beyond its immense popularity), was the fact that while I was growing in faith, it was increasingly evident that Bono, The Edge, Adam Clayton, and Larry Mullen, Jr. were not saints (in fact, I was devastated when I learned that Clayton was not a Christ follower at all). They were ordinary men who made remarkably good music. I had put them on way too high a pedestal and I had to take them down (it is amazing how idolatry works).
I pretty much ignored Zooropa when it was released in 1993, and only came to appreciate it by osmosis (one of my best friends in college had it on all the time). The title song remains one of my favorites. Pop, released in 1997, was similarly dismissed. By this time, I was married, trying to make a career, growing in faith, and increasingly beset with a feeling that popular culture had gotten away from me. I simply couldn't keep up. The British Invasion (Part 2) had come, and I was still trying to familiarize myself with Oasis, Blur, and the myriad monosyllable-named bands of the era (Korn, Tool, Pulp, Doves, et al). It was a very unsettling time. I remember watching MTV at one point during this time and thinking, "I have no idea who any of these people are," and furthermore, "I have no idea what any of them are talking about." U2 was touring (the PopMart Tour), and I couldn't help shake the feeling that maybe they were over-reaching a bit--it all seemed a bit over-blown...self-righteous indignation (at consumerism, politics, etc.) to which only the elite are entitled.
My ambivalence continued with All That You Can't Leave Behind, though it was evident even in the album art that perhaps the band had come down from its techno-social high. I enjoyed the singles released on the album, but really took notice after the September 11 terrorist attacks. Each song seemed to have some sort of connectedness to the fear and feeling of those post-911 days. "Beautiful Day" became somewhat anthemic, if only for its hopefulness. U2 had re-entered my consciousness.
While continuing to listen primarily to the 1980's catalogue, I was finding new treasures in their work post-Joshua Tree. How To Dismantle an Atomic Bomb and No Line on the Horizon were disappointing and surprising, respectively, as the former seemed to lack depth (and with the exception of "Vertigo" seemed to have no real memorable songs) and the latter harkened back to the days of Achtung Baby.
Good grief, I've been listening to U2 for nearly 30 years. That is ridiculous.
For my own enjoyment, my brief history with U2:
"Wire" and "Bad"--driving to Missouri to buy fireworks (Summer, 1985);
"I Will Follow" and "The Electric Co."--driving home from Lake Miltona, MN (Summer, 1986);
The Joshua Tree--taking Amtrak to Colorado (Summer, 1987);
Achtung Baby--in my dorm room (Fall, 1991);
"Zooropa" and "Lemon"--Chris Hagenow's apartment (Fall, 1993);
How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb--driving home from Bayfield, WI (summer, 2005);
"Beautiful Day"--Panama City beach, Ironman Florida (Fall, 2004);
No Line on the Horizon--introducing Ian to the joy of U2 (Winter, 2012).
Post-script...Ian (11) knows most of Wilco and Radiohead. He knows the more popular U2 catalogue, but is now being introduced to the whole enchilada. This is U2 401-level coursework...
Woo Hoo! I made Travis' blog!
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