U2

How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb

December 6, 2004

# Not One of the Great Albums of 2004

U2 have been calling themselves the biggest band on the planet for almost twenty years now. When they first started doing it, hot off the heals of the classic, The Joshua Tree, no one could fairly argue that claim. That year (1987), they were seemingly everywhere: radio, Mtv, on tour, on top of buildings; you name it, they were probably there and deservedly so. The Joshua Tree was strong music with a strong message by fiercely exciting performers. The late ‘80s were an exciting time for the band and their fans, and U2 stood proudly above the heads of their peers as the biggest band on the planet.

As years passed, and the ‘80s scene became just a fading image in the rear view, the musical landscape changed from the frivolous pop of Culture Club and the overtly earnest bombast of U2, to the angst ridden misanthropy of grunge. In addition to this rock and roll changing of the guard, rap was not so quietly emerging from the fringes as the commercially and critically revered format hip-hop, and U2, never a band to rest on their laurels, boldly attempted to change with it. Their albums Achtung Baby and Zooropa changed with the trends of the early ‘90s, incorporating elements of electronica, contemporary dance music, and even hip-hop, leaving many of their fans confusedly scratching their heads. Neither got the same joyous response as their predecessors, and despite continued big money tours and good sales for Achtung Baby (mainly because it had been almost 4 years since the previous releases), just what exactly U2 represented became more and more suspect. For the first time in their careers, a U2 experiment was in doubt, not only by the critics, but by their staunchly devoted fans as well.

But just a few years later, as time slowly ticked past, a funny thing happened; those fans who couldn’t figure out what to think of U2 Version 2.0, suddenly came around, and these days fewer and fewer of U2’s ‘90s detractors are undermining the success and innovation of those albums. Even Pop, the 1997 release which was critically panned, commercially disappointing, and marked U2’s last attempt at patronizing our commoditized society, has received a warmer reception than on its initial run. Looking back, it seems that those albums were not only of their time, but also, slightly ahead of it as well.

U2’s last release, 2000’s All That You Can’t Leave Behind, arrived at a time when music was all over the map and had no anchor. Partially due to this chaotic situation, ATYCLB was an overwhelming success selling four times as many albums as Pop and in many ways represented U2’s return to their glory days of 1987. The album had heart, it had soul, and it had a pretty darn good set of songs. This was a U2 renaissance that once again found Bono and company toting around their favorite banner, the one that reads “the biggest band on the planet.” Whether or not this claim was true would be quickly disputed faster than you can say “September eleventh.”

A little less than one year after the release of ATYCLB, the unimaginable happened: 5,000+ people died in the tragedies of September 11^th. For those who witnessed it, which is practically everyone, the catastrophe defined a generation. Suddenly, the pomposity of a Puff Daddy, a Limp Bizkit, and even a U2 just seemed uncalled for. Overblown, overproduced, self-obsessed meanderings were about to be introduced to a whole new breed of rock and roll, and the so-called saviors were again lowering their banner.

The Strokes, Interpol, The White Stripes, and many other revolutionary sounds sprung up at the end of 2001 and early 2002, and U2 suddenly seemed more out of touch than ever before. The Strokes’ Last Night hit the airwaves in late 2001, and the bands’ blank expressions, chugging guitar sound, and screeching sing/speak vocals accurately captured a society that was left jaw agape at tragedy so close to home. It was a musical revolution that seemed more the product of destiny than calculated determination. In many ways, these bands seemed the antithesis of U2.

Today, as society continues to come to grips with 2001, things are much different than they were ten years ago when Zooropa debuted. As electronica and particularly, grunge are relegated to “the sounds of classic rock and pop” compilations and radio stations, and indie rock continues to soar, U2 is again finding themselves rethinking their image and sound. As they embrace this change in musical tastes, one element in particular from their past continues to linger in U2 Version 3.0: they are again calling themselves “the biggest band on the planet.” But whether it be whoring themselves out to the I-Pod, throwing parties in Times Square for their CD release, or Bono mugging in front of every television camera in the world at every charity event and university graduation ceremony, it doesn’t mean they are relevant any longer. 2004’s result of their shape shifting, grandstanding ways, How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb, I must firmly assert, cannot back up their self-made claims of greatness, and no matter what Bono or Apple Computer want you to think, revolutionary rock and roll has passed them by.

I don’t want to be all thorns and brambles here, however, and judge U2 on everything but the music. So let’s instead do just that, and give the music, itself, the chance to speak. The good of How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb is that it features many U2 trademarks, the best of which are Bono’s heartfelt pleading and The Edge’s echoing guitar picking. Both of these elements come off very well on several tracks, with Miracle Drug and City of Blinding Lights being my personal favorites. But as a whole, the more I listen to this album, the more I realize that what is most missing from the band is its urgency, and in particular, the urgency that Bono did so well on War, The Unforgettable Fire, The Joshua Tree, Achtung Baby, and even the detached, yet vital pleas from Zooropa. I think I can understand why the band feels the need to be the voice of the downtrodden and the underrepresented, and that is surely a noble pursuit, but in order for us to buy that need and accept U2 as the spokesmen, it is essential that we feel it in both the music and the lyrics. In my opinion, How to Dismantle… fails because it doesn’t help me feel very much at all, but rather, just pleasantly hovers above the world’s problems with the simple message “all we need is love,” while bearing a title that makes me think there might be something here to truly change the world. That mantra may have worked in the late 1960s, but these days, we are certainly a far cry from the love-ins and self-absorbed mindset of that era.

Maybe I am missing something with this whole U2 business, but I don’t think so. I’ve been on the band wagon for damn near twenty years now and have defended every criticism thrown at them. With each release through All That You Can’t Leave Behind, I’ve maintained that these guys are still the best band around, bar none. I have held tight to my copy of the Zooropa video cassette from their tour of that year and still maintain that live music doesn’t get much better than that. I still recall fondly my days of playing One over and over and over and over again until my Achtung Baby CD stopped playing properly in my stereo. My memory of New Year’s Eve 1987 is as vivid as ever, with U2 capturing the #1 spot with Where the Streets Have No Name on the Mtv Top 100 videos of the year. Images of my excitement at being one of first to own Zooropa, Passengers, ATYCLB, and the B-Sides compilation on opening night (midnight in some cases) will be with me forever. But right now, as I also reflect on all the great music that has arrived lately, the last three years in particular, I can’t help but admit that perhaps it is time U2 passed the torch to a band more deserving rather than continue to petition for that “world’s biggest band” mantle. I mean, come on now guys, you’re classic, and no one can rightly argue that point, and something tells me there will indeed be a few more stories to the U2 legacy before it’s all said and done. But maybe, just maybe, somewhere not too far down the line, it would be best for U2 to heed the immortal words of Neil Young: “it’s better to burn out than to fade away.” Perhaps, only then, can U2 finally make that long sought return to form album and go out in the blaze of glory I think deep down inside, they, and us, have always wanted, and that I’m sure most will agree they deserve. Until then, I will give each of their releases a fair shake, but I’ll find my solace in the U2 of 1987 and 1991, and perhaps more importantly, the new breed of rock and roll that I believe will define the rest of this decade and its generation.