So, I know that I've written about U2 a time or two, and while it may seem a little bit self-indulgent, it seems like every time I turn around, they have something to teach me.
"From the Sky Down" is a fantastic documentary about the making of one of the greatest U2 albums ever made--"Achtung Baby," and it's a revealing look into a world of creativity that is both unusual, and hardly ever seen.
"Achtung Baby" is the album that almost wasn't, from a band that almost died an early death. Interestingly, I always considered its great predecessor "The Joshua Tree" to be raw and gritty, but in retrospect, I think it was so conceptually gritty that it became diametrically polished and it tried to turn U2 into something they weren't ready to be--superstars. For all of its deep, earthy soul, it was slicker than a wet banana.
I don't want to discount "The Joshua Tree." Sometimes, I think it saved my life; as I lay flat on my bedroom floor with it blaring out of a speaker next to my head, day after day, in hopes that it would somehow carry me away from my mad existence. Its haunting imagery and heart-twisting melodies are undeniably some of the greatest music of my time. No one was prepared for something so great from a band that had just barely squeaked through to the mainstream. "The Joshua Tree" was the foundation to a career and a life that would have overwhelmed anyone. The boys of U2 thought they were smart. They thought they could build something real on top of something that became a legend. Legends are like the great pyramids--built on sand.
While the film "Rattle and Hum" may have appeared to be a self-indulgent, somewhat mind-numbing fiasco, I think the premise was sincere. It documented the growing pains of these four young men, and opened a window on their discovery of American music that had not quite reached them--they were probably listening to the Ramones turned up way too loud. Its soundtrack opened the window to some of this great American music for me as well. B.B. King didn't even register with me before "love came to town."
By the time the tour supporting "The Joshua Tree," and the release of "Rattle and Hum" had left them in a anti-climactic daze, U2 couldn't go back, and they didn't know how to go forward. It's as if they had sunken every bit of what they could be into eleven tracks that were now too far behind them to be seen in their rear view mirror. What else did they have to say?
When they met in Berlin, just about a year after the wall had been brought down, it appeared that four new walls had gone up, presenting barriers every bit as strong as the stone structure that had separated East from West. Everything they tried fell flat. Nothing they threw at each others' walls could get through. They struggled, nearly failing. At a point, not one of them knew if all the fighting and struggle was even worth it, or who they even wanted to be anymore.
If not for the riff on a guitar, these four walls would have brought U2 crumbling down.
As someone who writes, I am in love with words. Sometimes I see or hear them in my mind and know that they are something special. I've always assumed that most people who write probably feel the same way. I've always assumed that lyrics and melody get matched up like the edges of two pieces of fabric and they are just pinned together before someone comes along and stitches them up. Under the influence of Edgar Allan Poe, I picture most music as nothing more or less than poetry set to music. Bono proved me wrong. He doesn't create in lyrics, he creates in melodic intent. Much to my surprise, he doesn't so much scat, as he moans and wails, all in an effort to take the melody in the direction he wants his voice to go.
And that's what he did with the song that probably saved them--actually one of my least favorites, probably because in its anthem-like nature, it has become one of the most overplayed, over utilized songs ever written. "One."
We're one, but we're not the same.
We get to carry each other, carry each other... one
"One" U2
Yeah, "One" is a love song, but it wasn't written about a woman, it was written about the walls--the divisions between people who are so close that they get in each others' way while they're trying to share a great love.
What makes "Achtung Baby" so special, twenty years on, is the fact that as heavily layered, synthesized and piled upon as the music is, it's actually a stripped down version of U2. It's U2 in the raw. It's U2 trying to figure out where to go from the well-done slab of "The Joshua Tree." They strike at each other and everyone else, and they connect while they tear down their own walls.
U2 got to the end of "The Joshua Tree" in a fast car, only to find out they ran out of road. They had to decide whether to drive off the edge or to drive into the ditch. Over the years they have been criticized for everything. They've strayed too far from their foundation. They've driven in a circle. They've leaped off the cliff.
U2 is an awful lot like the Berlin Wall. In one of the online histories about the wall, it is said that the fall of the Berlin Wall began with its building. You can't build something without the pieces, and sometimes, you have to tear something apart to get the scraps you need to put it back together and make it something real.
As much as "The Joshua Tree" saved my life, "Achtung Baby" gave me a new birth. It was delivered twenty years ago as I was trying to figure out who I was going to be--finally without anyone else's help. I'd spent nearly twenty of my own years building walls. "Achtung" was the beginning of me learning how to tear them down.
When I was all messed up and I heard opera in my head
Your love was a light bulb hanging over my bed.
Baby, baby, baby, light my way.
Oh, come on, baby, baby, baby, light my way.
"Ultraviolet (Light My Way)" U2
I like to think that in some ways, I am currently under construction--or at least renovation.
"Ultraviolet (Light My Way)--U2 (Rose Bowl 360 Tour)
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