[Luke]

Welcome to the U2 thread!

Have fun posting!


"City Of Blinding Lights" the third single!

U2 are backing their new single with a host of classic live tracks.

The stadium overlords, currently in the thick of a mammoth world tour, release ‘City Of Blinding Lights’ on June 6, the third single to be taken from new album ‘How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb’.

Along with a Killahurtz Fly Mix of ‘All Because Of You’, CD formats include live versions of ‘The Fly’ and ‘Even Better Than The Real Thing’ recorded at the Stop Sellafield concert in Manchester in 1992.

The DVD features footage recorded at the band’s guerrilla gig at New York’s Brooklyn Bridge last November.

‘City Of Blinding Lights’ is the opening track on U2’s Vertigo Tour, which arrives in the UK next month.

http://www.nme.com/news/story.htm?ID=112299

[sacredheart125]

Yay, new thread!!!

[Sam Hewson]

Hello

BTW I'm a girl

[Luke]

Originally Posted by Sam Hewson BTW I'm a girl

Sam, did I say something wrong?

[Sam Hewson]

Nop.
It's just that Cat wrote this: Well......we can probabley wait for Sam. He seems to be our leader.......
That's why I was clearin'

[Sam Hewson]

Chicago Sun-Times
May 1, 2005

Interview with U2's Larry Mullen Jr.

By Jim DeRogatis, Pop Music Critic


Despite its status as a multi-platinum, arena-filling mega-band, U2
has always maintained a reputation for caring about its fans. But when
tickets went on sale in late January for its Vertigo 2005 Tour,
something went wrong.

Many of the faithful who paid $40 to join the band's fan club found
themselves shut out when tickets went on sale via a system that
ignored the special presale privileges and issued random codes
instead. As a result, many of the prime tickets wound up with scalpers
who have been peddling them for more than 20 times face value.

The group scheduled additional shows to make amends -- U2 performs
four nights here beginning Saturday, then will return to Chicago on
Sept. 20-21 -- but the band was stung nonetheless by criticism from
fans and the press.

Drummer Larry Mullen Jr. seemed especially chagrined, and when the
band won a Grammy for best rock performance by a Group with Vocals in
February, he edged its always loquacious frontman Bono away from the
mike so that he could issue a public and heartfelt apology.

Longtime fans have always considered Mullen the conscience and truest
moral compass of the group, as well as one of the most distinctive
drummers in rock.

In 1976, inspired by the Sex Pistols and London's punk explosion, a
14-year-old Mullen placed an ad on the bulletin board of Dublin's
Mount Temple High School, eliciting responses from bassist Adam
Clayton, guitarist Dave Evans (later the Edge), and an outspoken chap
named Paul Hewson who, even though he couldn't sing particularly well
at the time, brazenly rechristened himself Bono Vox (Latin for "good
voice").

The rest, as VH1's "Behind the Music" is fond of saying, is history.

I had a long and wide-ranging conversation Monday with the man many
consider the heart of U2 as the band made its way toward Chicago. Here
are the highlights.


Q. I was moved by your comments at the Grammys, Larry. What happened
with the ticket snafu, and why were you so upset about it?

A. We've always been a band that's depended on its audience to carry
it through, and we've put them through a lot. We've experimented on
our audience, and they've been incredibly loyal to us, so we're kind
of sensitive to our audience -- to what they feel and what they think.
We came out of being fans: We were fans of music, and we went to gigs.

The reason we charge $165 [for some seats] is so that we can also sell
a ticket for $49.50 [for general admission on the floor] -- that's the
point. We're selling the best seats in the house to those who can
probably afford them, and those who sit in those seats subsidize the
others. I think that's fair and that's the way it should be.

We're very conscious of pricing and the ticketing and how it happens,
but this time around, the tour was on and the tour was off because of
a family illness that I can't go into the details of. The tour wasn't
going to happen for a long period of time, so the only way it could go
forward was if we changed it, and it got changed at the last minute
because the decision to do it came at the last minute. All the plans
we'd made for this leg of the tour were completely canceled and thrown
out, and it was turned around in a couple of days.

The rules that applied to the original tour didn't get changed in
time, so it meant that when the tickets went on sale, you had complete
pandemonium. We ended up with this crisis situation, and people felt
that they had been had, because we hadn't explained to them, because
we couldn't, why the tour had been changed.

Q. It must hurt when you see scalpers getting tickets that were
intended for fan club members.

A. It's like I said in the note on the Web site: The idea that your
loyal audience is competing with scalpers for tickets is appalling.
Unfortunately, it is now part and parcel of what happens. There aren't
laws to prevent it. But I think what really upset me more than
anything else was the assertion by various fan Web sites who got on
some kind of bandwagon where there were accusations of impropriety by
the band -- that this was some kind of money-grabbing move and we
didn't care about our fans. That's what really upset me more than
anything else.

I'm a private kind of person. I love being in the band, and it's my
life. I work hard at it, but there are things that I'm not very good
at. One of them is meeting the fans and being a man of the people --
I'm not very good at it, and I don't feel particularly comfortable in
that position. Bono, on the other hand, thrives on it. Because he does
it, it means I'm not under the same kind of pressure. People have
taken that as me being surly or disrespectful, but that's not the
truth.

The reality is that behind the scenes, I take a real interest in
what's happening, with ticketing, with U2.com, with all those things.
This time around, because everything was up in the air, I didn't have
my finger on the pulse, and I was angry that I hadn't been more in
charge and actually taken the bull by the balls and stopped the
tickets going on sale the way they did. I felt guilty about that, and
I felt that a lot of people, loyal U2 fans, were being treated badly,
not because of anything that we'd done, just because the system had
broken down.


Q. A band at your level is a major international corporation. Does the
machine ever get so big that you lose control?

A. When we moved out of the clubs into the theaters, it was like, "Oh,
my God, they've moved into the theaters; it's a sellout!" Then we
moved out of the theaters into arenas, and it was, "Oh, they were so
much better in theaters; they've sold out!" Then it was, "Oh, my God,
they've gone to stadiums!" Or, "Oh my God, they're doing the Super
Bowl; what a sellout!" So every time, you always end up pissing off
somebody.

As for the question of being out of control, of course as it gets
bigger, there are more people involved. We work really hard at trying
to keep our finger on the pulse, but sometimes it's just not possible,
and sometimes things fall between the cracks. But generally speaking,
decisions are made by the band, and they're made in a relatively
democratic way.

The iPod idea came from the band; it didn't come from Steve Jobs and
Apple. It was something we were happy to stand over as a band. We make
decisions through consensus, and we stand by them. If people are
unhappy with them, so be it. Things are not always what they seem. We
wanted to play to big audiences; we want to be on the radio. We are
greedy; we are hungry; we are never satisfied.

I think for some sections of our audience, they wanted to keep us as
their own, and we don't feel like that. We appreciate our audience,
but we want to get new people in, we want to be on the radio, we
wanted to be on the iPod commercial because it is the greatest piece
of pop art since the '60s.

It's an amazing design, and it's very cool; we want our music on that.
We asked them if we could be in that commercial. We felt like, "Why
should there be dancers dancing to a U2 song? Why aren't U2 in it?"
And it did what we wanted it to do, and we got to an audience that we
never got to before.


Q. The argument against it, Larry, is that when I close my eyes and
listen to "Achtung Baby," the images it creates in my head are
infinitely richer than even the best videos the band has ever made.
Now, every time I hear "Vertigo," I can't think of anything besides
that damn commercial.

A. I understand and appreciate that; I really do. But our job is to
move forward and bring our music to a bigger audience. When you sign
on the dotted line for that record deal, you are basically joining the
commercial world. That's what we do.

You can't deny that that's what this is: It's part of commerce. You
can hide behind this attitude of, "We don't want to be famous; we
don't want the money." We're over that. We were over it when we
started. We always wanted to be the band that would be part of
breaking through, and this just seemed like a perfectly natural
progression for us.


Q. Let's talk about the artistic ambition of the last two albums. I
was disappointed that "All That You Can't Leave Behind" and "How to
Dismantle an Atomic Bomb" lacked the edge that characterized "Achtung
Baby" and "Zooropa." At the time, I interviewed the producer of those
albums, Brian Eno, who said his role was to come in and erase anything
that sounded too much like U2, forcing the band to move in new
directions. The more time passes, the more I realize how brave that
was.

A. I disagree with you; that was then, and this is now. We've always
been a band that has tried to walk away from the past and move into
new areas and do new things, and we've always done that. But we got to
a stage where the band as a band wasn't functioning. It was
functioning like individuals, and the band wasn't performing and
playing in a room. We'd become so acute in our distaste for anything
U2 that it was just becoming impossible to be creative as a band.

We took the decision that what we'd do is get back into a room and
play as a band -- to do what we do. We hadn't done it for years, and
that's what this is. It's not a commercial decision: "Oh, let's go
back to what we know, because maybe we'll get back onto the charts."
It's hard for people to appreciate that. A lot of people go,
"Bollocks, all you want to do is sell more records and you'll do
anything to do that." That's just not the case. We wanted to get back
to being a band.

After "The Joshua Tree," we chopped it down with "Achtung Baby" and
then "Zooropa," and then with "Pop." They were great things, and we're
very proud of those things, and we will do that again. But there's a
certain stage where you've actually just got to go back to what you
know.

I think on this record, the Edge is on fire. I couldn't disagree with
you more about what he's doing. Of course there are references back to
the past, but I like that. I like getting into a room and playing with
the band and doing those things we used to do. I think what Brian Eno
brought was invaluable, and Daniel Lanois as well. But we've got to
move on, we've got to change, and we've got to take references from
the past and bring them into the future. And that's what we've done.


Q. But U2 never wanted to be a band like Pink Floyd or the Rolling
Stones, which basically became massive money-making oldies shows.

A. And we won't! With respect to you and your colleagues, when it's
time for U2 to get the bullet in the head, we'll do it ourselves,
thank you very much! But we're greedy, and we want to push boundaries.
We want to do things that nobody else has done before, and we will do
whatever we have to do to achieve that. We're never satisfied. We
never feel like we've made our greatest record. We always feel we can
do better, we can be better, and that's constant. After every record,
we sit down and go, "OK, what was wrong with that? What was right with
it?" And next time around, we fix it. We constantly do that, and
that's why U2 survives.

There's a very deep unhappiness in U2, because there's a sense that we
achieved great success and became a really big band, but we were never
a really great band. There was always that thing that we were given
all these accolades, but we didn't really deserve it. We got it
because we managed to do very well live, and it was all about being
big. Being big means s--- to us. It's being great that we want, and
that's what we strive for.


Q. That sense of satisfaction destroys so many bands. But you're
saying that with U2, it's exactly the opposite.

A. It's the exact opposite: We are not happy. [Laughs] It's like, "How
can you be unhappy when you're selling out a tour and your record's
doing well?" But it's not that kind of unhappiness. It's a creative
dissatisfaction.

We want to do better, we want to compete on the highest level, and
that means competing on radio, and competing with people like Britney
Spears and all those pop artists who are at the top of their game. The
songs that are written for them are pretty spectacular, and we want to
compete with that. Why else do this? There's no other reason. None of
us need to do it, we're all financially secure, and for a lot of
bands, that's a huge turn-off. "I've got the kids now, I've got the
money, what do I need this for?" This is revenge for us.


Q. Why do you care about competing with Britney Spears? You grew up
loving the Sex Pistols, and they didn't care about competing in that
world.

A. I'm not sure about that; that was a huge commercial idea. For [Sex
Pistols manager] Malcolm McLaren, it was all about that: getting the
money and doing whatever he had to do to make it controversial.
There's little difference between that and Britney Spears taking her
clothes off. It's the same instinct. It's all about selling records
and getting the cash.

There is no such thing as anything in the music business at its purest
form. It's all cursed by commerce, and you can't get away from it. I
don't want to be in a band that's treading water. I want to have my
17-year-old niece or nephew say, "I love that new single." I really
want that, because I don't want to be relegated into, "That used to be
relevant, it's no longer relevant." If that's not possible, then we
will stop.

So why is it important? It just is. It's too easy to accept second
best. To compete at this level takes huge brain power and a lot of
work, but it's what we do, and we thrive on it. There's nothing like
when a 17-year-old comes up and says, "Hey, man, I think what you're
doing is cool." It might sound absolutely childish, but those are the
things that make you want to continue on. When you look at your
audience and see the huge variation from students, college kids, and
all the way up.

We're Irish, and when we started out, we were always sort of the runt
of the pack. Everybody else was cooler than us; everybody else was
better than us; they were all better musicians than us. We were always
that band.

We came to America and people embraced us, and they have been
embracing us ever since. There's a certain responsibility that goes
with that, and it's, "We've got to do this. We've got to remain
relevant. We've got to make great music." That's a challenge, and we
thrive on it.


Q. And is it still fun at the end of the day?

A. It really is, and in a way that it hasn't been for 25 years. The
band is playing better, and Bono is singing better, and there seems to
be a real freedom in what we're doing. Sometimes onstage, it just
feels excruciating, because you're trying to hold it down, and you
never know what's going to happen.

I don't feel like that now. I'm enjoying the shows, and it's just got
a different level of maturity. It's a lot less tense and not trying so
hard to be perfect. If you make a mistake, it's OK. I listened to a CD
of the last show, and there are a lot of fluffs, but it's OK. There
was time when we were all striving for that perfection, and now it's,
"It doesn't matter; it's the spirit of the show."


(c) Chicago Sun-Times, 2005.

*Too much readin' sorry

[Sam Hewson]

Relevant magazine
April 22, 2005

God in the House: U2 Live in Los Angeles

By Stephen Simpson


Evangelicals have long had ambivalent feelings about U2. Bono has done
more to raise awareness and support for the crisis of poverty and AIDS
in Africa than almost any other Christian figure. But some
conservative Christians busy themselves looking at the speck in his
eye. Bono and the rest of the band drink, smoke and swear, causing
some to ask questions about the sincerity of their Christian faith.

On April 5, nobody, including the band's most vocal detractors, would
have been asking questions. That night, U2's Vertigo tour hit Los
Angeles and turned the Staples Center into a cathedral, or a revival
tent, if that's your thing. Either way, God was in the house.

First there was the message, highlighted from the beginning with the
roaring opener, "Love and Peace or Else." In the '90s, the band used
irony to soften the blow of its passion for peace, human rights and an
end to poverty. Nothing was soft or ironic about the delivery. From
posting the U.N.'s Declaration of Human rights on the video screens to
Bono's proclamation that "all people are equal in the eyes of God," U2
didn't hide their zeal for changing the world. But they didn't just
shove the message down the audience's throat; they invited us to
participate. Bono asked everyone to take out their cell phones and
send a text message in support of the One Campaign, an effort to
provide funds for American medical professionals to work in African
communities. The visual effect of thousands of cell phones, tiny blue
screens glowing throughout the dark arena, was dazzling. Thanks to U2,
the cell phone has officially replaced the lighter as the luminous
icon of choice at rock concerts (Fire marshalls around the world are
now sleeping better and buying U2 records). This is a prime example
of what U2 does at their best: get people socially involved and make
them feel cool at the same time. Given the emergency in Africa that's
often ignored by the media, thank God someone is making noise about
it.

The band also made noise about God. Sometimes Bono belied his faith
with a subtle gesture that only those "in the family" would catch,
like raising his hands and looking upward while singing "All Because
of You." But Bono was mostly loud about his Christianity. He threw in
a chorus of "hallelujahs" at the end of "Running to Stand Still,"
showed off the crucifix that the pope gave him and quoted Scripture.
The band closed with "40," which takes its lyrics from the 40th
Psalm. But if anyone harbored doubts about U2 being a Christian
band, "Yahweh" laid them to rest. It's a praise song. Both its lyrics
and melody sound like something straight out of a Vineyard
church: "Take this city/A city should be shining on a hill/Take this
city, if it be Your will/ What no man can own, no man can take/Take
this heart and make it break." Bono and thousands in the audience
stuck their hands in the air, but it didn't look like typical rock
arena exuberance. It looked like a Charismatic Christian convention.

Then there was the music. I have been to eight U2 concerts over the
course of 18 years, and I have never heard them play with more
precision and fervor. Adam Clayton and Larry Mullen were tight, Bono
hit all the high notes and the Edge was...well, he was the Edge. The
guy can play the blues, rough and metallic, or make his guitar sound
like an orchestra, soaring and shimmering. I attended the show with an
accomplished guitar player, and he said that mortals shouldn't be able
to make a guitar sound like that. The band favored the audience with
old favorites, playing three "deep cuts" from their first album, but
they weren't shy with their new material. A testament to U2's staying
power is that fans are as eager to hear new material live as they are
the old stand-bys. And they played with all the zeal of a punk band in
their 20s. They tore through "Zoo Station" with such intensity that I
thought someone might get hurt. After almost 30 years of playing
together, U2 makes many bands half their age seem docile and safe.

But their musicianship, passion and faith aren't the only things that
make U2 different. They connect with their audience in a way that's
rare. Even the stage lent itself to the communal experience. Some
ticket holders were selected at random to stand in "the ellipse," a
catwalk-enclosed area in front of the stage. Each band member entered
the arena shining a spotlight up into the cheap seats, making those
farthest from the stage part of the show. During "Into the Heart,"
Bono pulled a small boy from the audience and had him sit on stage
for part of the show. The move symbolized the effect U2 has on its
audience. The band reaches out, making everyone feel connected to
what's happening onstage.

U2 has turned almost every rock 'n' roll stereotype on its head. Rock
music is supposed to be the province of the young, but these guys are
in their mid-40s. Most pop stars are aloof, but U2 goes out of their
way to relate to their audience. At other concerts, the crowd cheers
when the lead singer mentions smoking weed or having sex. At this
concert, the audience went berserk when Bono mentioned God, human
rights and helping the poor. U2 has returned rock 'n' roll to its
gospel roots, making a big, shining noise that inspires and uplifts.

While in line for the show, I met a girl who had never been to a U2
show. I saw her during the concert, and she had tears in her eyes. The
cynics might think that's a bit melodramatic —- not believing a rock
show can move someone. But when U2 hit their stride, like they did
that night in Los Angeles, people leaving glowing, thoroughly
entertained yet wanting to change the world. It's how Church, at its
best, makes us feel. As long as U2 keeps doing that, I don't care if
the guys have a beer and drop the F-bomb once in a while.


© Relevant Media Group, 2005.

[Sam Hewson]

TONY HICKS: MUSIC CRITIC

Why get so excited? Because it's U2, that's why

By Tony Hicks

CONTRA COSTA TIMES

There was this guy at San Jose's HP Pavilion on Saturday night with a
pretty impressive resume. People seemed to like him.

He hung with the late Pope John Paul II and is trying to stop
worldwide poverty. He can make one little hand gesture, and about
20,000 people respond by bouncing in unison. The White House takes his
calls. He writes pop hits and has managed to keep one band together
for 25 years without the band, or its music, growing stale.

If he wasn't busy saving the world and simultaneously making people
extremely happy, he'd probably stop by, cook you lunch and fold your
laundry.

If Bono had a cape, he'd probably fly.

U2 showed Saturday night in San Jose that it's crossing into the
ridiculous rock 'n' roll realm so far only occupied by Bruce
Springsteen, where a concert becomes a religious experience for the
faithful. Like Springsteen -- who inducted U2 into the Rock and Roll
Hall of Fame earlier this year with one of the most poignant and
entertaining induction speeches ever -- U2 approaches every song with
the energy and effort of an encore.

The confidence is absolute, completely lacking typical rock star
neurosis. There's no dangerous moment where something doesn't work on
stage ... unless one counts that young woman Bono brought on stage
pretty much bouncing out of her shirt. But even that was met head on
with the proper amount of humility and humor.

In short, there's very little one can say about U2's show Saturday
night that probably isn't being said about every stop on this highly
successful Vertigo 2005 tour.

A band this big, around this long, doesn't have to work so hard. It
doesn't have to bring an incredibly vivid lighting rig and a large,
horseshoe-shaped stage runway to get closer to its fans. But U2 does.
Conversely, the whole scene takes on this magical feel. The band
doesn't have to, yet it still matters to them to work that hard.

Saturday perhaps wasn't the single greatest U2 show, but at this point
it didn't have to be. This band is so dialed in musically, and its
show so geared toward the fans anyway, that everything just works for
two hours, from the opening moments of Bono appearing in the dark on
the crest of the horseshoe ramp, frozen among raining confetti, to the
end when band members slowly filed off stage one by one while still
playing.

By the second song, a loud and crunchy "Vertigo," Bono was strutting
around like he owned the place (which, of course, he did), taking a
mostly middle-aged crowd into massive pogoing for the third song,
"Elevation." But once a person got used to all -- the stage, the
lights, the overwhelming crowd response -- it was easy to focus on
other things, like the Edge's guitar virtuosity and versatility and
the seamless, airtight and powerful foundation laid by bassist Adam
Clayton and machine-like drummer Larry Mullen Jr.

Showing the proper amount of rootsy humility and connection with the
locals (all the best bands mention the first club or radio station
they encountered in a particular area -- in this case the station was
KSJO), U2 went back to its first album, "Boy," for a frantic version
of "The Electric Co.," which dropped into "New Year's Day" and Edge
bouncing between piano and brilliant guitar. The roll continued with a
surging "Beautiful Day."

Bono took a couple minutes to tell a story (with accompanying
imitation) about the pope trying on his sunglasses, dedicating the
uplifting "Miracle Drug" to his memory. During the song, he gave his
shades to a fan who, halfway through, handed him up a bottle of water
when he looked thirsty. It was a small gesture, but one of those small
things (like being one of the few bands on the planet that allow fans
to bring in cameras) that so endears the band to people.

After Mullen and a floor tom joined Bono out on the ramp during "Love
and Peace Or Else," the singer donned a white head scarf and joined up
with the band on the main stage to march in place for "Sunday Bloody
Sunday," featuring more excellent up-and-down dynamics and brilliant
guitar playing from the Edge. At one point, for a brief moment the
crowd knew when to be completely silent, before the whole scene
exploded back into the verse -- a great example of smart fans knowing
how to contribute to the experience.

This is where the show started to take on an epic quality. Just when
one thought the peaks would have to flatten, the band launched right
into the mighty "Bullet the Blue Sky," hammering the crowd with a wall
of noise and falling back again, with Bono bringing the scarf down
over his eyes and dropping to his knees like he was awaiting
execution, while the Edge churned out his nasty solo. No one else
could have pulled off such a moment.

Nor could any other singer avoid looking pretentious while talking
about human rights, which later resulted in the band flashing a number
for people to text message an anti-poverty campaign during a typically
powerful "One."

And somehow it seemed perfectly natural a few moments earlier when
Bono grabbed a fan's cowboy hat and started cowpoking his way across
the stage. This guy can get away with pretty much anything, including
pulling a young woman on stage for a dance and a long stroll around
the stage during "Mysterious Ways" prompting, in Bono's words, a
"dancing accident" that may or may not have involved the woman briefly
losing control of her shirt during all that bouncing.

The massive fan reverie returned during "Pride (In The Name of Love),"
and "Where the Streets Have No Name," which featured the lighted-up
outlines of various nations' flags traveling down rows of hanging
vertical lights.

Again, it was epic territory near the end of the show, when songs
build into huge encores. Only U2 managed to do it all night.

[Sam Hewson]

Band begins tour with customary poise, panache
By George Varga
UNION-TRIBUNE POP MUSIC CRITIC

March 30, 2005

It isn't uncommon for even the most legendary of rock bands to try to
cast a final spell of musical magic with their show-closing encore.

But there is little about U2 that is common, even by legendary
rock-star standards. And what made its final encore so memorable
Monday at the ipayOne Center was that the sold-out audience of 14,500,
not the four-man Irish band, performed the final refrain of "40." And
that concluded the opening night of U2's "Vertigo/2005" world tour, at
what was formerly the San Diego Sports Arena.

A stirring song of unity, redemption and divine inspiration based on
Psalm 40 from the Bible, "40" dates back 22 years to the band's third
album, "War." Or as Bono, U2's iconic singer, told the cheering crowd:
"We haven't played this one since 1983," when it was a staple of the
group's sets.

One by one, band members exited the stage, leaving drummer Larry
Mullen Jr. to lay down a snappy backbeat as the audience sang the
refrain of "40": How long to sing this song? When he, too, left the
stage, the audience continued singing, a cappella, even after the
house lights came up.

Were it not for the prerecorded music that began blaring over the
sound system, it's possible some fans might still be singing in the
arena, where the band performs the second show of its tour tonight.

Such is the power of U2 and its most powerful songs, which combine
earthy rock 'n' roll rhythms and chiming guitars with uplifting
messages of faith and hope for a better world.

True, there were a few bumps Monday night, as might be expected at the
opening of one of the year's most anticipated tours. These included
uneven pacing and a sense of playing it safe rather than engaging in
the heady risk-taking that has characterized some of U2's best onstage
moments.

Those missteps aside, U2 generally performed with winning poise and
panache, beginning with its first two numbers, "City of Blinding
Lights" and "Vertigo," both from the band's uneven new album, "How to
Dismantle an Atomic Bomb."

Bono sang a snippet of the Police's "King of Pain" during "Vertigo,"
and quoted both The Who's "I Can See For Miles" and Stephen Sondheim's
"Send in the Clowns" during "Electric Company." Later, in 1987's
classic "Bullet the Blue Sky," he segued into the "The Hands That
Built America," which gave both songs greater resonance. "Bullet" was
made even more powerful by the blindfold Bono wore for part of it,
which used drawings of a Muslim crescent moon, the Star of David and a
cross to form the word "CoeXisT."

U2 should find its footing – and the heart of its still-evolving show
– as the tour progresses. There were enough memorable moments Monday
to leave fans, some of whom came from as far away as Norway and U2's
native Ireland, buzzing.

And while the band delivered rousing versions of such still-vital U2
classics as 1984's "Pride (In the Name of Love)" and 1983's "New
Year's Day" and "Sunday Bloody Sunday," U2's members strived to make
Monday's show more than just a heady walk down memory lane.

Six of the 23 selections performed were from its new album. And two of
them, the Who-inspired rave-up "All Because of You" and the surging
"Yahweh," provided a solid, one-two punch before "40" brought the show
to a close.

For longtime fans, the treats also included strong versions of three
rarely performed early songs – "The Electric Company," "An Cat Dub"
and "Into the Heart" – all from the band's 1980 debut album, "Boy."

The concert marked U2's sixth appearance here at the arena, where the
quartet first performed in 1982, opening for the J. Geils Band. In
contrast with those more simple, streamlined times, on Monday the Edge
used a different guitar for almost every song, often triggering an
array of other instruments with a single strum.

Bono, whose humanitarian efforts have made him a Nobel Prize
contender, jokingly referred to himself as "Little Lord Jesus." But he
was deadly serious during "Pride," when he not only paid tribute to
Martin Luther King Jr. but implored the audience to battle poverty in
Africa.

"(King) wasn't just talking about the American Dream," Bono said. "His
dream was bigger than that. It was a dream big enough to fit the whole
world. It was a dream where everyone was equal under the eyes of God.
Everyone – European, Asian, African, African, African."

Later, as the text of the United Nations' Declaration of Human Rights
was projected on video screens, Bono urged U2's fans to help eradicate
poverty in Africa by signing up to join the nonprofit One campaign
(www.one.org).

"We're looking for 1 million Americans to go to work, proving that
equality exists in Africa as well as America," Bono said.

Coming from almost any other band or singer, such entreaties would
probably sound contrived or hollow. But from U2 and Bono, whose
impassioned song, "One," was another concert highlight Monday, it rang
perfectly true.

[Sam Hewson]

By Jim Harrington, CONTRIBUTOR

THE TRUE GENIUS of U2 lies in the band's ability to connect with every
single soul in a 20,000-seat arena.

It doesn't matter whether one is a rabid fan who can recite the track
listing from every U2 album since "Boy" or someone who can only name a
few hits. It's not important if one regularly listens to classic rock,
modern rock, hip-hop or country. Factors like age, race, social status
and religion are really irrelevant in this arena.

U2 will get you and it will get you every single time. That's why the
Irish quartet outranks even Bruce Springsteen and the Rolling Stones
as the safest bet in the concert industry.

At this stage in its career, fresh off its recent induction to the
Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, U2 really only has to worry about topping
itself each time it goes out on the road.

The band's show Saturday night at HP Pavilion in San Jose was
thrilling. This first show of a two-night stand at the venue, however,
fell a smidge shy of the heights the band reached
in 2001.

Part of that has to do with material.

The Elevation Tour was centered on one of the band's strongest albums,
2000's "All That You Can't Leave Behind," which is full of the type of
towering anthems that the Irish quartet built its career on.

With this year's Vertigo Tour, U2 is promoting 2004's "How to
Dismantle an Atomic Bomb" and much of the new material featured didn't
translate as well to the stage. There was a pronounced drop in
excitement almost every time the band went from playing an old hit to
a new song, which simply didn't happen with Elevation.

But the main reason this year's tour didn't meet the standards set in
2001 has to do with timing. Then, the second leg of U2's North
American tour came immediately after the tragedies of Sept. 11, 2001, and

anybody who doesn't believe in the healing power of rock'n' roll
certainly didn't attend those November shows at the Oakland Arena.
There was truly magic in that music.

So, if U2 couldn't top itself Saturday, it would just have to shoot
for surpassing everyone else.

Mission accomplished.

The concert kicked off with much drama as the Edge stepped into the
spotlight to deliver a powerful opening guitar interlude that sounded
like a cross between Pink Floyd's David Gilmour and the Grateful
Dead's Jerry Garcia.

Confetti rained from the ceiling as Bono appeared at the tip of the
heart-shaped walkway that extended from the stage halfway across the
arena floor. The charismatic vocalist held his hands up toward the sky
and basked in the moment, as the crowd on all sides showered him with
adoration.

Then, like a racehorse at the sound of a gun, Bono sprang into action
and led the band through the two best "Atomic Bomb" songs of the
concert, "City of Blinding Lights" and "Vertigo." Thanks to its role
in Apple's inescapable iPod campaign, "Vertigo" came across as
familiar as any of the old hits.

The vocalist then cried like a loon to start "Elevation," the track
that received the most extreme makeover of the night. The band
initially slowed the number down to a crawl, using both a bare-bones
arrangement and a restrained delivery, and gave it a slightly dark
industrial feel. After a few fidgety minutes, the tension finally
broke and the music and crowd erupted simultaneously.

The band reached all the way back to its 1980 debut, "Boy," for a
powerful version of "The Electric Co." and then went daytripping
through "New Year's Day" and "Beautiful Day," which closed on a
snippet of the Beatles "Blackbird."

The evening took a turn for the worse with the new album's saccharine
"Miracle Drug," which features perhaps the corniest U2 lyric ever
recorded, "Freedom has a scent / Like the top of a newborn baby's head."

Another low point came when the band played the soft "Running to Stand
Still" from 1987's "The Joshua Tree" and the singer chastised the
crowd for clapping along to the beat. "Don't clap," he scolded, "but
you can sing." He won't lose the egomaniac reputation by exhibiting
that type of control-freak attitude.

But, really, we don't want him to lose it. A large part of Bono's
charm comes from his larger-than-life-and-still-growing persona. It's
that image that helps makes anthems like "Sunday Bloody Sunday" and
"Pride (In the Name of Love)" feel so darn poignant, heartfelt and
urgent in concert.

Bono still does some preaching from the stage. Fortunately, he's
picking topics that won't spawn much debate or cause division in a
crowd. He's currently stumping for basic human rights issues, which,
at least theoretically, is about as controversial as a pro-puppy stance.

The band stumbled a bit at the end, notably by speeding up the great
ballad "One," but it was hardly enough to detract from enjoying such
solidly performed favorites as "Mysterious Ways" and "Where the
Streets Have No Name."

The band finally quit for the night after playing its traditional
closer, "40." Fans left the building both raving about what the band
included in the set list and bemoaning what it left off.

Significant exclusions included "Bad," "Two Hearts Beat as One," "With
or Without You" and, really, too many others to mention.

Fortunately, fans will have another chance to hear those classics when
U2 returns to the Bay Area to play to two dates in November at the
Oakland Arena.

This critic will be there and so should you, too.

[Sam Hewson]

iPay One Centre, San Diego - Mar. 28, 2005
U2 is da bomb
By JANE STEVENSON -- Toronto Sun

SAN DIEGO -- "Oh, you look so beautiful tonight!" sang U2 frontman
Bono as the Irish rockers kicked off their much-anticipated Vertigo
world tour on Monday night in San Diego.

Backed by astonishing visuals that complemented their larger-than-life
music without overwhelming it, the band itself looked pretty smashing,
too.

The evening's opening song, City Of Blinding Lights, from their How To
Dismantle An Atomic Bomb, was an inspired choice to kick-start the
hour-and-55-minute show, which reached dizzying visual heights but
managed some more subdued, emotionally charged moments.

Interestingly, the most spiritually uplifting song came via audience
participation, as the band dredged up the gorgeous "40" -- from 1983's
War -- as their closing song of the night.

One by one, group members left the stage, leaving drummer Larry Mullen
Jr. to provide a beat until the crowd eventually sang the chorus --
"How long to sing this song," -- a capella for another five minutes,
hoping for their return.

It felt like Easter Monday all right.

The concert was far from musically perfect -- they messed up Elevation
-- but as the ever-charming Bono said: "We can screw up a little bit,
right? We're amongst friends!"

About 17,600 friends made up the sold-out audience at the San Diego
Sports Arena, recently renamed iPay One Centre.

The band, rounded out by guitarist The Edge and bassist Adam Clayton,
first appeared admist a sea of glittering confetti, a moment normally
reserved for the end of a show.

But if U2's Vertigo stage initially recalled that of their Elevation
2001/2002 tour -- the heart-shaped catwalk has been replaced by a
larger, oval one -- there was a mighty impressive addition in the form
of large light panels that dropped down from an enormous lighting and
sound rig above the band.

Resembling beaded curtains, the light panels changed colours or had
striking images or words projected onto them.

"We've taken the best bits of the last tour and added stuff that no
one has ever imagined before," said Bono.

The singer, a naturally gifted performer, made good use of the panels,
gingerly walking through one while introducing Sometimes You Can't
Make It On Your Own, saying, "This is for my father Bob; he would have
loved to have been in show business."

It was a clever bit of performance art that quickly turned into an
emotional high point as Bono removed his trademark tinted glasses,
wiped the sweat from his brow and sang from the heart.

Ever the hambone, Bono also made good use of that longer catwalk,
crawling on all fours and even turning over and lying down with his
hands behind his head at one point, much to the delight of photographers.

"Spanish lessons in San Diego? -- I don't think so," said the singer,
launching into the night's second song, Vertigo: "Uno, dos, tres,
catorce!"

The moment was memorable but U2 didn't stay stuck in the present for
very long, immediately following two new songs with material from
their 1980 debut, Boy. It included the beautiful instrumental Into The
Heart, while Bono threw water at the crowd or roared like a lion.

Bono's antics aside, some of the best songs were the most unadorned:
Crisp, clean versions of Beautiful Day, New Year's Day, Miracle Drug,
Pride (In The Name Of Love), which all provided particularly great
guitar moments from The Edge, and such crowd singalongs as Sunday
Bloody Sunday (even if Bono sounded out of breath.)

Mullen played a stand-up set of drums at the front of the catwalk
during the new song, Love And Peace Or Else, which Bono, now wearing a
white headband, would eventually take over.

He later pulled the headband over his eyes, and dropped to his knees
with his hands raised to simulate a prisoner of war during Sunday
Bloody Sunday. They also touched on his well-known battle to fight the
spread of AIDS and poverty in Africa with Where The Streets Have No
Name and One.

The singer talked about having to postpone the tour -- it was
originally going to start March 1 in Miami -- after someone in a band
member's family became seriously ill. (Clayton explained the delay in
an interview with the San Diego Union-Tribune.)

"It's a great, great, great, great, great night for us," said Bono.
"Putting on a tour that we didn't think we would. It's a miracle!"

What it is is a damn fine rock show that's only bound to get better by
the time it reaches Toronto for four sold-out shows at the Air Canada
Centre in September.

Setlist:

City Of Blinding Lights
Vertigo (w/Stories For Boys)
Cry/The Electric Co.
An Cat Dubh/Into The Heart
Beautiful Day
New Year's Day
Miracle Drug
Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own
Love And Peace Or Else
Sunday Bloody Sunday
Bullet The Blue Sky (w/Hands That Built America)
Running To Stand Still
Zoo Station
The Fly
Elevation

Encore:
Pride (In the Name of Love)
Where The Streets Have No Name
One
All Because Of You
Yahweh (acoustic)
40

[Sam Hewson]

May 9, 2005
BY JIM DEROGATIS
Pop Music Critic

Wearing a mock fascist uniform and goose-stepping around the oval
catwalk jutting from the stage at the United Center on Saturday, the
first of U2's four sold-out shows here, Bono repeated an odd little
chant during an encore of "Zoo Station": "We put on a show / We do the
business / But this is not / Show business."

Yes, it most certainly was, and it was every bit as phony, bombastic
and manipulative as a Britney Spears concert, the Republican National
Convention or a televangelist's miracle-working dog and pony show.

As a fan who's seen the group a dozen times and who ranks 1992's Zoo
TV tour on the short list of the best concerts I've ever experienced,
U2 has never seemed as pointlessly pretentious and preachy.

The group scrolled the text of the first few articles of the Universal
Declaration of Human Rights, adopted by the United Nations in 1948,
over its giant video screens and encouraged concertgoers not to flick
their lighters but to hold up their cell phones, then text-message
their contact info to the band's hunger-relief charity program. This
assumed, of course, that people had money left to donate after
spending as much as $168 plus service fees for U2 concert tickets.

Bono did his famous crucifixion moves, as well as dropping to his
knees and striking his familiar "hands bound above my head" pose. This
time, he gave the latter a new twist, sporting a blindfold to evoke
images of the prisoners at Abu Ghraib prison.

The 45-year-old front man's hubristic sins went on and on -- there was
a facile routine about how Christianity, Judaism and Islam are all
"true" (with Buddhism and other religions conspicuously absent from
the list), speeches about how "we" can end poverty in Africa, and
boasts about how world leaders take his calls. Still, while he was the
most obnoxious presence, it would be wrong to single him out as the
only offender.

Guitarist The Edge, bassist Adam Clayton and drummer Larry Mullen Jr.
gave their silent approval while providing the music that served as
background and afterthought for all of this speechifying, and they did
so in a rote, autopilot fashion that created a disturbing contrast
between the impassioned windbaggery and the passionless rock 'n' roll.

The songs from last year's "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb" gained
nothing and only seemed more contrived in concert. "Love and Peace or
Else," which opened the show; "Yahweh," the penultimate track before
the encore; "Sometimes You Can't Make It on Your Own," the song that
pays homage to Bono's departed dad, and "Vertigo," the hit brought to
you by Apple's iPod -- all were rote, leaden, formulaic imitations of
sounds that U2 has done much, much better in the past.

This especially was evident as the new material was juxtaposed with
undeniable classics such as "An Cat Dubh," "New Year's Day" and "One,"
which retained their inspired brilliance no matter how much pomposity
surrounded them, providing the evening's few highlights. As for the
nadir, it came midway through the two-hour set with an especially
soggy four-song montage of "Sunday Bloody Sunday," "Bullet the Blue
Sky," "The Hands That Built America" and "When Johnny Comes Marching
Home."

If you missed the point, it was this: AMERICA'S WAR IN IRAQ IS BAD.
But ever the politician averse to alienating any demographic, Bono,
sporting a stars-and-stripes leather jacket as one of several costume
changes, followed that none-too-subtle declaration by reminding us to
"support the troops."

With the exception of its startlingly innovative Zoo TV tour and its
"Achtung Baby"-era shift toward postmodern irony and fearless
reinvention, this band always has had a problem with grandiose
flag-waving -- literally. During my first U2 concert in 1981, I rolled
my eyes when Bono hoisted a giant white banner. And as documented by
the concert films "Live at Red Rocks" (1983) and "Rattle and Hum"
(1989), speeches and chest-thumping theatrics always have been part of
the show.

The difference is that the music was once fresh and powerful enough to
make even the most over-the-top gestures seem justified. "We're
greedy, and we want to push boundaries," Mullen told me in an
interview two weeks ago, as if one justified the other. At this phase
in U2's career, minus the boundary-pushing, it's hard to see past the
greed.

The majority of people at the United Center, it should be noted,
seemed thrilled with Saturday's performance. I'm not attempting to
change their minds or invalidate their experience, but to pose the
question of whether U2 lived up to its own potential. In the end, this
is just one disappointed fan's review, and as stated in Article 19 of
the U.N.'s Universal Declaration of Human Rights: "Everyone has the
right to freedom of opinion and expression."

U2 performs at the United Center again tonight, Tuesday and Thursday.
On Saturday, its set began at 9 p.m., following a mediocre opening
performance by the Kings of Leon, New Wave Southern rockers who simply
aren't ready for the arenas.

Bono, ever the politician averse to alienating any demographic,
criticized America's war in Iraq, then urged fans to "support the troops."

[Sam Hewson]

Rolling Stone.com
March 29, 2005

U2 Go Old School in Cali
Irish rockers mix "Boy" and "Bomb" on tour kickoff

By Steve Baltin


This year marks the twenty-fifth anniversary of the release of U2's
debut album, Boy. And while the band's current world tour, which
kicked off last night before a sold-out crowd at the San Diego Sports
Arena, is in support of last year's chart-topping How to Dismantle an
Atomic Bomb, the four lads from Dublin were clearly feeling a bit
sentimental, making for some surprising vintage moments during the
two-hour set.

The lion's share of material came from the new record, starting with
the opening "City of Blinding Lights" and the album's punchy first
single, "Vertigo," which singer Bono introduced by saying, "Spanish
lessons in San Diego...I don't think so."

The night's first surprise came soon thereafter, when Bono announced,
"We're gonna go back to where it started." As a flag unfurled over the
backdrop featuring the Boy album cover, the foursome -- Bono,
guitarist the Edge, bassist Adam Clayton and drummer Larry Mullen Jr.
-- jumped into the way-back machine for "The Electric Co.," with Bono
segueing into a snippet of the showtune "Send in the Clowns." U2, who
have largely ignored their distant past on recent tours, then treated
longtime fans to "An Cat Dubh" and "Into the Heart" -- both also off
of Boy. "An Cat Dubh" was the concert's moody highlight, with its hard
bass line pulsing under the bluish stage lights.

As Bono worked the runway -- as on the previous tour, the stage set
featured a circular ramp that extended out into the middle of the
floor -- the band jumped into "Beautiful Day," from 2000's All That
You Can't Leave Behind. "New Year's Day," the band's 1983 breakthrough
U.S. hit, followed and received an uproarious ovation, proving that U2
weren't the only ones feeling nostalgic.

The alternation of new and old tracks continued throughout the set.
The band effectively combined the new album's mid-tempo ballads
"Miracle Drug" with Bono's tribute to his late father "Sometimes You
Can't Make It on Your Own," during which he removed his trademark
sunglasses to deliver his most impassioned vocals. The rocking "Love
and Peace or Else," which found Larry Mullen Jr. banging away on the
drums at the apex of the ramp, was followed by War's "Sunday Bloody
Sunday."

During an acerbic "Bullet the Blue Sky," off of 1987's The Joshua
Tree, a blindfolded Bono got down on his knees and held his hands over
his head as if bound. The staunch anti-war song ended with snippets of
"Johnny Come Marching Home" and the chorus from "The Hands That Built
America," a song the group contributed to Martin Scorsese's Gangs of
New York. The political statement continued, as "Bullet" was followed
by U2's beautiful Joshua Tree ballad "Running to Stand Still."
Featuring Bono on harmonica and acoustic guitar, the song provided the
intro for a video listing the articles of the United Nation's
Declaration of Human Rights.

The band then delved into material from 1991's Achtung Baby, with
guitarist the Edge taking the spotlight with the fierce solos that
fuel that record. "Zoo Station" and "The Fly" featured provocative
sayings flashing quickly on the backdrop of beaded curtains. The show
went on to close with a lively rendition of All That You Can't Leave
Behind's "Elevation."

Coming back for the encores, the quartet revisited 1984's The
Unforgettable Fire for a rousing "Pride (In the Name of Love)," with
Bono taking the opportunity to refer to the work he's been doing on
behalf of third-world debt relief by asking the crowd to "sing for
Africa" at the song's close. And during "Where the Streets Have No
Name," an African flag unfurled over the backdrop. Proving he can be
high-minded and smooth-talking at the same time, Bono announced, "We
are more powerful, we are extraordinary as one"...as the band struck
the opening notes of Achtung Baby's "One." This was followed by
impassioned versions of new songs "All Because of You" and "Yahweh."

The band saved the night's biggest revelation for last, as Mullen
began the repetitive drumbeat to "40," the biblical sing-along that
used to close U2 shows. In a nod to the early days, at the song's
conclusion, Bono walked off the stage first, followed by Clayton and
the Edge, while Mullen provided the beat to the crowd's chanting of
the chorus "How long to sing this song." When the lights came on, most
in the San Diego Sports Arena were still singing.


© Rolling Stone, 2005.

[Sam Hewson]

Larry Rodgers
The Arizona Republic
Apr. 15, 2005 12:00 AM

U2 rocks a sellout crowd

Irish supergroup U2 has staged spectacles for years, and Thursday's
installment of its "Vertigo" tour at Glendale Arena certainly had its
bells and whistles.

Most impressive on the visual front was the use of huge beaded "light
curtains" that could programmed like a stadium scoreboard on steroids
to flash colors, words or -- during a call for world unity by
politically outspoken singer Bono -- a waterfall of flags from around
the globe.

The band used an elliptical stage similar to the heart-shaped number
employed last time out, enabling Bono and guitarist the Edge, bassist
Adam Clayton and drummer Larry Mullen Jr. to strut far out into the
arena's floor, with a group of lucky fans mulling about in the middle
of it all. The stage was ringed with an array of lights used to set
all types of moods.

Although Thursday's concert had its share of fun moments, it was more
about a band exploring new ways to present its 25-year-old catalog
and, just as important, the messages behind that music. (U2 returns to
the arena tonight for a second sold-out show.)

So before the band could tear into a glitzy, laser-guided version of
its iPod-friendly anthem, "Vertigo," it opened the evening with "Love
and Peace or Else," from its latest album, "How to Dismantle an Atomic
Bomb." "Lay down your guns, all your daughter of Zion, all your
Abraham sons," Bono sang, standing with his bandmates at the farthest
reach of the catwalk. The singer, who turns 45 next month, still has
plenty on his mind after decades of writing and performing, and he
acted out plenty of it in Glendale.

The band kept things a bit lighter for the first half of the set. The
audience, which stood for 98 percent of the concert, needed no
prodding to sing along in 2000's "Elevation," while the tune was given
a slightly stripped and funkified treatment by the Edge, Clayton and
Mullen.

Bono crawled around the stage on all fours and then played to fans'
cameras as U2 performed what he called "a song from a long time ago" –
"The Electric Company," from its 1980 debut album, "Boy." The blissful
looks on the faces of those fans near him and the sea of outstretched
arms were reminders that there may not be a more magnetic and
well-loved front man in rock and roll today.

The new "City of Blinding Lights" was uplifting both sonically and
lyrically, with Bono singing, "Oh, you look so beautiful tonight" as
the crowd was bathed in bright light.

But Bono & Co. summoned the most emotion for a six-song sequence that
closed the main portion of the concert. Starting with the anti-war
sentiment of 1984's "New Year's Day," the band took aim at the folly
of war ("We're so sick of it!," Bono screamed during "Sunday Bloody
Sunday," which had heavier, more aggressive guitar work than usual)
and the costs of those battles (One of the evening's several small
interludes had Bono singing "When Johnny Comes Marching Home" in a
voice full of melancholy). The singer drew huge applause by dedicating
one song to "the brave women of the United States military," but the
selection was 1987's "Running to Stand Still."

Human rights and poverty took center stage as the band projected
excerpts from a 1948 United Nations proclamation calling for global
equality and condemning torture, abuse and slavery during "Running To
Stand Still." Audience members were asked to use the text-messaging
systems on their cell phones to sign up for a campaign to fight
poverty during "One," which also was had a more funky edge.

During the still-powerful "(Pride) In the Name of Love," Bono couldn't
resist reminding Arizonans about 1987, when the band issued a
statement during a visit here blasting Gov. Evan Mecham for revoking
the state's Martin Luther King Jr. holiday. "Remember, Arizona, when
there wasn't a Dr. King Day?," he asked. "This is a better day. Dr.
King's dream was big enough to fit the whole world."

Despite the high-tech glitz and the politics, U2 seems more reserved
on this tour, both musically and in the way its members moved about
the stage. Performances of such hist as "Mysterious Ways," "New Year's
Day" and "Where the Streets Have No Name" sounded earthy and
economical, and that was just fine.

Perhaps after the emotional drain of its last American tour, when the
names of those who died in the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks were
projected on the walls and ceilings of arenas, U2 felt that a slightly
more low-key approach was warranted this time out.

Or it could be that U2 is settling into an elder statesman's role in
the world of bands that can still really rock and are still very
relevant (that's a pretty small world, by the way).

But no matter how it tweaks each global outing, U2 remains one of the
most awe-inspiring forces on the rock stage today. And Thursday's
powerful, poignant performance was no exception.

[Sam Hewson]

All That You Can't Leave Behind

By Sean O'Driscoll

When Michka Assayas, author of the new book Bono: In Conversation, was
invited to the south of France after he finished his book, he was
expecting a few beers and a night of celebration with Bono.

"Bono phoned me from Dublin and said, `I'm going to make you a
tantalizing offer. Most things are correct in the book but I want you
to come down to the south of France to go over the manuscript and
afterwards we'll go to dinner to celebrate,'" Assayas told the Irish
Voice in a phone interview from Paris.

It turned into a five-night stay, with the two gripped in some heated
discussion about the contents of the book.

"I think the day the book was expected at the printer, he really woke
up and realized that everything he said was going to be in print. In
those few days we worked like screenwriters, working it over and over
again. Bono told me it felt like songwriting. It was extraordinarily
exciting."

The result is the definitive account of Bono's life, in which he
reveals his arguments with the band members, his relationship with his
wife and even an abduction attempt by Northern Ireland paramilitaries.
It is also a very revealing insight into fame and Bono's perspective
on music and politics.

"He likened to a conversation to a game of handball. I felt it was
more like squash because it was so quick," Assayas says. "He would
improvise new lines until midnight and it became very heated in the
process."

Assayas, a French journalist who has written extensively for Rolling
Stone and other English-language publications, hadn't been in contact
with Bono for years before he was asked to write the book.

"It was okay that we hadn't seen each other in some time. When you
know someone for 25 years, you can obtain major things if it is
spontaneous," he says.

"Sometimes you have to think really hard and with him the result was
worth it."

In parts of the book, Bono goes so far and then pulls back, as when he
comes close to talking about extra-martial sex.

"It must be frustrating for the reader when you are like, `Okay, he's
going to say something about sex in marriage or sex outside marriage,
that's on the break.' It's dramatic, he is talking about it and then
there is a very revealing blank or pause.

"I wanted to keep it like that to give the impression that he is
sharing, observing the conversation with us."

When it came to Bono's political views Assayas decided to "play the
bad guy with him."

"I think I had too. I don't necessary think the contrary about Africa
and what can be done for the people of Africa but I thought he had to
be confronted in that light," Assayas says. "I had to oppose him to
really come to the core of his message."

Much of the revealing passages about the internal workings of U2 were
done over the phone after Assayas missed a flight to Dublin.

"I missed the flight and went back to the hotel. I called him and he
was in his car," the author recalls. "Usually he is the one who is a
complete mess, missing phone calls and such things, so he could have a
laugh at me for once."

The major disagreements between the two were mostly based on language
problems.

"There were a few occasions when it got heated," Assayas reveals. "He
had been a bit wary that his language was misrepresented and that I
had misunderstood some of his quotes.

"I remember once we were in Nice, he looked at the first draft and he
was saying, `But how come all of your headlines are wrong? I never
said that, I never put it that way!'"

Assayas told him that the problem was nothing but a "botherism."

Even meeting with Bono and getting him to work on the book was an ordeal.

"My patience has been put to the test. He is so elusive, he disappears
for weeks and weeks," Assayas says.

"I was really feeling out of luck. Having him sit at the table and
read the manuscript was a super human task."

The most rewarding part for Assayas was watching Bono's genius for
catchphrases.

"I remember asking him what makes a great politician. He said that a
good statesman is listening out for a melody in all of the
conversation he listens to," Assayas says.

"I thought that was a great line. It sums up Bono in some way. He is
also listening for that melody in other people. That is how he operates."

The secret to Bono's success, the author says, is that he never allows
himself to become comfortable.

"Bono is in serious career danger on a regular basis. The purpose of
band is to put itself in danger all the time. That's just part of the
deal. It is how he stays alive."

(Bono: In Conversation is published by Riverhead Hardcover.)