Concert reviews. Whats the point? I read the local papers reviews the day after a concert and am usually disappointed. Reviewers aren’t usually familiar with the songs that the band played (beyond the radio hits) at the concert. The reviewer ends up writing something like “oh was all right, everyone there seemed to like it, but I take issue with the fact that they played too many of their popular hits and ignored their back catalog.” Or, “They played too much of their back catalog.” My proof: Grand Rapids press reviewer, when discussing “Zooropa” -it came out as “Van Europa” in print. (Does everything have to have “Van” or “Vander” in front of it in the GR Press? Is that a default setting on the keyboards there, like the Euro sign is on the keyboards in Europe?) Rock concert criticism is pointless so fans should get to write the review. The reviews will likely always be glowing but if I’m the reviewer, I’ll know all of the song titles.
So I will start by saying that that day, Sunday June 26th, was the most gorgeous day of a gorgeous week of gorgeous days. Palm-Springs-blue skies, no wind, mid-70s. (Maybe the Claw also regulates the weather within 100 miles of the concert venue.) Describing the Claw is hard to do. Of course I’m referring to their multimillion-dollar, it takes-75-trucks-to move-it stage. Its big. Its the tallest thing - other than a building, a plane or an aircraft carrier - that I’ve been next to. The arc of the 4 legs are sloping and graceful, the green tent punctuated by orange buttons is playful, the spire recalls the swizzle stick that the Popmart lemon rotated on, its funny, strange and beautiful.
“Space Oddity” began, the crowd erupted and the band walked on stage. I can’t describe any of these emotions without sounding hackneyed, like the lamest Dollar Store greeting card. I have loved this band since 1992, and while sometimes this emotion ebbs, when I saw Larry Mullen Jr waving as he walked into the stadium, I felt overpowered by affection and familiarity, like friends seeing each other after years of separation. (I’ve never felt that emotion with anyone I’ve known, but instead it happens when four millionaire strangers walk on stage? Ugh I know.) Finally, it was beginning, after 18 months of waiting, they were here, breathing the same air as me. And that's when I started screaming. (To the guy who stood in front of me for the whole show and had to deal with my singing and dancing: I apologize.)
“Even Better than the Real Thing” was slinky and groovy, “Until The End of the World” is becoming a live favorite of mine, “Miss Sarajevo” was lovely, and Bono singing Pavoritti’s parts were unexpectedly beautiful. And “Zooropa” was when the night went from stadium rock for everyone to being a show for the super fans (said the super fan, who thought the whole show was played for her benefit.) The screen descended, like a honeycomb to envelop the band, a four story Lite Brite, and the stage turned dark and they played. Their jackets, embedded with thousands of LED lights lit up. The motherf***ing jackets LIT. UP. They were absent but there in the dark while the Claw turned into a big radio. Nicely done, guys. Thanks for keeping it weird. Bon Jovi doesn’t wear light up jackets to play “Have a Nice Day” in the dark. No. U2 does.
The power of seeing these songs played live versus listening to them on my (special U2 edition) iPod is similar to going to church: as you sing along you reflect on the words. I’ve sang some of these songs for as long as 19 years, so I know them like I know the Nicene Creed. Sometimes when you say the Our Father words run together and they lose meaning or become new words (hallowedbe thyname.) When you’re able to sing along and feel the emotion of the words as the cantor sings them, that's when the experience can get magical. During “One”, as Bono sang “It's one love/We get to share it/It leaves you baby/If you don't care for it,” I heard him. Standing there in the dark with 65,000 people, I felt like I stumbled upon this pebble of truth. Maybe we had both lived through similar conflict and pain. That honesty, him admitting that things had gone wrong, that it had been shitty for a while, but all that pain made sense? That's what I’m missing in life lately - honesty, “that didn’t work out the way I had planned,” or “I’ve felt that heartbreak too, but this thought comforted me.” I’ve lived through enough to understand the depth of emotion in a song, which admittedly sounds small, but it felt like I was able to see a new color or speak and be understood in a new language. It felt like everything made sense then, and I felt finally gratitude for the ability to feel all of those emotions.
As they played, a video of the band in 1991 filmed in Berlin played overhead. It was a video that I had seen before (the band in a Trabant, Bono and Edge with long hair, Adam and Larry looking so young) and it felt like we were all old friends, the band and their fans, watching a home movie together. Earlier that day I been joking to my dad that I was getting too old to be going to concerts, with the standing for hours and being up beyond my bedtime, he said (pragmatically as always), “Maybe next time you should just buy the CD instead.” When a concert makes you fully contemplate the truth about life, love and our time on earth, it moves beyond just the music or the stage. And there’s no chance that I’d ever miss one.
