U2 & Me

I anticipated the new U2 album, “No Line on the Horizon,” with something approaching dread – the kind of dread only a longtime fan can muster.

I stuck with U2 virtually my whole life – from their sophomore album October (the first record I ever bought with my own money), through the ambient experiments of “The Unforgettable Fire,” to their earthy and earnest “Joshua Tree” phase, all the way through the avant-garde “Zooropa” wackiness. God help me, I even loved “Pop.”

Through it all, it had been easy for me to tune out the political pontificating for which the band was known, drowned out as at was by so much wonderful music. But by the time of 2004’s “How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb,” that ratio had begun to shift. The band’s musical output declined in both quantity and consistency, while at the same time Bono’s political activism went into overdrive.

The diminutive front man could be seen glad handling any world leader who would meet with him (which turned out to be quite a few). He toured Africa with the American Secretary of the Treasury; he appeared on the cover of Time magazine with the caption, “Can Bono Save the World?”

These were gag inducing spectacles, to be sure. Nonetheless, I maintained a grudging respect from the Man in Shades for two reasons. One, unlike a lot of celebutards who shoot their mouths off on subjects about which they know little or nothing, Bono was widely praised for his deep knowledge on issues of global poverty (however misguided his policy prescriptions may be). And two, he studiously avoided the knee jerk liberal tendency to demonize conservatives and Republicans. In fact, Bono showed admirable maturity in working with President George W. Bush, for whom he has publicly expressed gratitude for dramatically increasing United States largess for the fight against AIDS in Africa.

But then came the 2005 “Vertigo” tour, when for the first time in a U2 show that I had seen, the politics deeply and clumsily intruded on the music. “One,” one of the most heart wrenching love songs ever written, was enlisted for yet another of Bono’s vague and interchangeable political side shows. “Running to Stand Still,” about a heroin addicted couple in the Dublin slums, was head-scratchingly dedicated to American troops serving in Iraq.

Don’t get me wrong. I bow to no one in my admiration for our fighting men and women. That’s why Bono’s dedication was so infuriating: why that song? It made no sense. It seemed forced and insincere and, once again, took a classic and beautiful piece of music and fused it with the highly charged political zeitgeist.

That was distressing, but when Bono put a blindfold over his eyes and stumbled around the stage, feigning bound hands, I became livid. This rich, pampered rock star was pretending to be a tortured political prisoner, in implicit criticism of the nation that made him wealthy and famous. It made the bile rise in my throat.

The Vertigo tour was followed by lots more activism, but hardly any new music. Meanwhile more and more U2 songs were used in more and more political rallies and movie trailers, cheapening their legacy still further.

At last came rumblings of a new album, with sessions guided by Rick Rubin, the mastermind known for reviving the careers of Johnny Cash and Neil Diamond by stripping their music down to the bare bones. That sounds interesting, I thought. But then Rubin was out, with little or no explanation.

A November 2008 release date for the new album, titled No Line on the Horizon, was finally set – then pushed back to March 2009 because, it was announced, the band had written just too many good songs. Right, I thought. Then the first single, “Get On Your Boots,” was loosed upon the world, and promptly confirmed everyone’s worst fears – “Boots” is a dreadful mess, a halfhearted mash up of a dozen better things you’ve heard before. Then came the coup de grace: a listless performance of “Boots” at the Grammys, after which I was forced to conclude that U2’s days as a vital musical force were probably over.

Still, on March 2, the night before the new album went on sale in the U.S., I tuned in to catch U2 on The Late Show with David Letterman, where they were beginning a widely publicized string of residency performances. I expected that they would do “Boots,” but hoped against hope for something different, something better.

And got it.

The song they ripped through, “Breathe”, was new, powerful, and utterly unique. The performance was exhilarating. Could the album be worth a damn after all, I wondered? Could there be some life left in these boys?

It is. There is.

True, the critics have been divided on No Line. Some have complained that it is devoid of melody. Rubbish. It is filled with layers upon layers of gorgeous melody, just not the kind that beats you over the head. The melodies in No Line rather break like gentle waves over the ear and heart, set in motion by subtle yet complex rhythms that lull and churn.

It is, alas, not a masterpiece. There is, after all, that pesky “Boots” right in the middle, as well as a few other ill advised turns that would have benefited the album tremendously with their absence. And as a lyricist, Bono is clearly flying without his muse, who is perhaps punishing him for neglecting her so.

But the highs are high indeed. The title track comes on like a shimmering freight train, the kind of thing that The Jesus & Mary Chain tried their entire career to pull of. “Unknown Caller” is the strangest of creatures – like Devo doing a Christmas carol, complete with french horns and technophilic lyrics. It shouldn’t work at all, but it does, gloriously and giddily. And don’t let the unfortunate title of” I’ll Go Crazy if I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight” fool you – it’s classic and euphoric U2.

“Moment of Surrender” is the gem of the album and possibly their entire corpus, a lilting refrain suffused with deep melancholy and yet a strange and tender joy.

“No Line” is a flawed but surprising record. The mediocrity of the lyrics will likely bode ill for its long-term legs, but for right now it is by far the most interesting music by a major artist. Who would have thought U2 would be capable of that, after all this time?

Not me. It’s good to be wrong.