Through appliance of science, we've got that ring of confidence.
I lived in a self-imposed U2 news embargo during the European leg of the band’s current tour. Oh, I’d seen photos of the giant claw-like stage – they were hard to miss – but otherwise I managed pretty easily to avoid setlist news and other items of spoiler-like import.
I don’t know why I should have. I was lucky enough to score a ticket off some grad school friends (thanks, friends!) to the band’s Chicago show, its first outdoor concerts in the US since 1997 and my first time since 2005. And U2’s show, despite the no-doubt revolutionary technology of its massive LED screen and the sheer audacity of its spacecraft 360 degree stage, followed a fairly predictable path. Frontloaded with songs off the new album, the band gradually moved towards older material with a brief acoustic interlude before returning with a crowd-pleasing encore (minus the curious setlist-ender “Moment of Surrender,” the new album’s biggest clunker, which I’d trade for a well-worn and equally Christian “40″ any day). Bono emoted, Edge gracefully wailed on his guitar, Adam and Larry did their thing. There was nothing shocking about it. U2 shows are well-oiled machines, intricately plotted, leaving little room for improvisation. The band rarely digs deep in its catalog beyond the “new oldies” of its greatest hits. U2 is perhaps best seen just once per reincarnation. After that, the seams start to show. It feels less special.
I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that U2 played “Your Blue Room,” a meditative track off the mostly forgotten and maligned Passengers side project, for the first time ever. The question remains, however, of why; the band has plenty of better-loved and equally ignored songs in the archive – how about “Seconds” or “Zooropa,” either of which would fit with the dystopian themes the band seems enamored with of late. That said, I heard just three songs I’d never heard performed before that weren’t on the new album.
Despite this, however, I had one overwhelming emotion during the concert: I felt lucky. A U2 concert has been such an event in my life every time I’ve gone – about six times since 2000, though in all honesty I’ve forgotten – I always thought it was the last time. My mom has seen Paul McCartney every time he’s come to Indianapolis. That’s four times in 40 years. (Hi, Mom!) She knows how to wait.
As Bono sat on the edge of the stage and sang a woeful acoustic “Stay (Faraway, So Close),” it was the second time I’d heard the song performed. I just never thought there would be a second time. (As a testiment to my poor memory, U2tours.com reminded me that a fan came on stage to play piano during the May 12, 2001 performance that I saw – an incredible moment of real spontaneity and showmanship.)
It’s too bad that the band’s newest album isn’t stronger, but it’s not a waste. The songs live well in the live arena, except when the band makes the curious choice of highlighting the nonsensical lyrics by pasting them karaoke-style on the big screen (“Unknown Caller” – I don’t know what it’s about, except that it intimates that Bono uses a Mac and that technology is either the future or the enemy).
Rumor has it that the band wants to release another album quickly, a kind of companion set that would be the meditative, soulful flip side to “No Line on the Horizon.” I hope this is true. The glum futurescape of the new songs pales next to the craftmanship and modesty of a gem like “Stay” or any track – even the forgettable ones – from the band’s comeback 2000 album “All That You Can’t Leave Behind.”
In fact, that album may emerge as the true star of this ambitious and a little insane world stadium tour. Less than a decade old, ATYCLB songs anchor the setlist with confirmed greatest hits status, ginning up the audience as well as “Pride” or any other 1980s-era warhorse. The band must be relieved. I know I am. With just one true classic release per decade, U2 could keep touring with vigor for years to come. And maybe I won’t always be worried that it’s the last time I’m sharing the same roof, or the same patch of sky.
