U2’s Eternal Tour: From Heinz Field to Possible 2014 Dates

July 26, 2013

Two years ago, the U2 360 tour concluded its US dates with a show at Heinz Field. That gig was captured for posterity by a fan-made concert documentary shot and curated by Tim Newell and is remembered here with some fan photographs by Mike Kurman.

The interwebs lit up this week with high-pitch rumors and speculation about a U2 tour in 2014 to accompany a new album expected later this year; while such conversation excites some fans and annoys others, there’s one thing about U2 touring on which the fan community can approach consensus.

That is, the amazing access we now have via the web to a wide collection of archival recordings, photographs, setlists, statistics, and more, this far-flung digital archive staggers for its diversity and quality.


U2 have officially made more and more audio and film recordings available, not just through official DVD and CD releases, but also through fan-club exclusive content accessible only to U2.com. The various fan sites have compiled everything from setlist databases to statistical breakdowns of song choices. These historical resources about U2’s setlist history have fed current discussions fueled by an article on the Rolling Stone website that U2 may be planning multi-night stands in multiple cities with entirely different shows to be presented each night. Unlike their peers in workhorse touring, U2 has never pursued the vigorous setlist variety that has distinguished artists such as the Grateful Dead, Bruce Springsteen, Pearl Jam, and My Morning Jacket.


How to follow-up an epic stadium adventure like 360 and a history that includes ZooTV and Popmart certainly pushes U2 to the limits of itself in terms of touring creativity and integrity. In another news article out this week, Bono praised Mick Jagger for his wrinkles and business savvy, suggesting to us that perhaps U2 has no inclination to “pull an R.E.M” and retire soon.

Rather, U2 seems uniquely poised to be a rare breed of middle-aged rockers ready to extend their career extensively, ultimately joining an elite class of old-rage rockers that today includes folks like Dylan, the Stones, and Paul McCartney and may in another 20 years include U2.

The arguments against eternal touring usually are waged against bands that have survived massive lineup changes, lost lead singers, and have become lounge club caricatures of their former selves. U2 by contrast have stayed at the top of their game for decades with the original lineup, and with a new album imminent, show no signs of slowing down. This summer, even U2’s 80 peers the Waterboys and Big Country are on their first US tours in many years. Big Country did have to replace deceased lead singer Stuart Adamson, but they did this with Alarm lead singer Mike Peters.


Checking out Tim Newell’s YouTube channel and his collection of U2 concert videos, it’s amazing to note how far fan rockumentarians have progressed over the years. “A Night Not To Forget,” as Newell calls this online concert film, is shot in HD, uses audio and video from multiple angles and fans, and simply stuns for its ability to convey that particular moment in this band’s history for eternity. The Heinz setlist showed some late tour freedom and the inclusion of fan favorites like “Bad” and “40” that had been absent most of 360. This excellent YouTube channel freely shares the work of U2 and other bands, with no commercial incentive, only a fan’s fierce communal ethos. U2 has gracefully permitted these fan sites to share not sell our collective memories captured on film.

Take Newell’s videos, coupled with Kurman’s photographs, we fans can take a journey back two years to the last night of 360 in the US and dream about seeing U2 again as soon as next year. –Andrew William Smith, Editor

The Interference webzine staff thanks Tim Newell and Mike Kurman for sharing their work.

A Night Not To Forget: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7EPmgPnSqaE&list=PLA951D9757012C016

Registration Open for April U2 Conference

March 4, 2013

We recently purchased our registration for the second-ever U2 Conference, to be held in Cleveland, Ohio this coming April 26-28.

While there have been U2 fan gatherings of all shapes and sizes, this confab, which debuted in 2009 and coincided with a U2 show, is one-of-a-kind event in North America. Organized by the visionary Scott Calhoun, the website @U2, and a cast of many others, this U2 Conference further establishes “U2 Studies” as a legitimate interdisciplinary field of academic study, uniting those who work in the academy in areas such as theology and musicology, literature and popular culture.

The complete schedule includes numerous panels on either the “fan” or “academic” track, a keynote by noted rock writer Ann Powers, collaboration with the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame that occupies a beautiful piece of real estate on Ohio’s north coast, a U2-themed worship experience on Sunday after the conference closes, and two performances by two different U2 tribute bands ONE and UF (or Unforgettable Fire).

Follow the drop-down links from the main conference website (http://u2conference.com) for more details. Early-bird prices remain in effect through March 11.

[pictured on homepage: UF band]

Bono Preaches the Gospel of Social Justice at Georgetown

November 14, 2012

Reposted with permission from http://sojo.net/blogs/2012/11/13/bono-preaches-gospel-social-justice-georgetown

“Do you think he’ll sing?” the girl in the row behind me wondered aloud.

“I hope so,” the young fellow beside her said before continuing, “My dad would freak. He was a big fan of U2 when I was growing up. He used to play this one album,The Joshua Tree, over and over again.”

His father was a fan.

I am a thousand years old, I thought to myself, as more Georgetown students filled the seats around me at the university’s 111-year-old Gaston Hall, the main lecture hall on campus named after Georgetown’s first student, William Gaston, who later served as a member of the U.S. Congress.

The hall, decorated with stunning art-deco-era frescos and the crest of every Jesuit institute of higher learning, has hosted many dignitaries over the years, including Presidents Obama and Clinton, Vice-President Al Gore, Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton, and Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, to name but a few.

“So if he’s not going to sing, is he just going to talk,” another student asked, with a distinct whiff of disappointment in his voice.

“I hear he’s an awesome speaker, though,” still another student said.

The students who packed the auditorium, many of them from Georgetown’s Global Social Enterprise Initiative at the McDonough School of Business and more than a few donning black t-shirts with the insignia of the ONE Campaign (of which Bono is a co-founder), weren’t sure what to expect from the famous Irish rock star and humanitarian.

A concert? A lecture? Another boring speech?

I’m fairly certain none of the students present for Monday night’s event, sponsored by the Bank of America and The Atlantic magazine, anticipated hearing Bono, the 52-year-old lead singer of U2, preach.

But preach he did.

After an introduction by Brian Moynihan, CEO of Bank of America (whose presence was greeted by some grumbling from the students seated around me, one who suggested in a stage whisper that they start a chant from the Occupy Wall Street movement), Bono bounded up to the lectern, grinning with his blue eyes flashing excitement from behind his trademark rose-colored shades.

“Thank you, Brian — a gentleman in a world where, uh, that quality is not always on tap,” Bono began, as the crowd roared. “The band wanted me to say thank you to you too, Brian, because, as you heard, the band are committed to the idea that ever school kid in Ireland should have access to free music lessons if they need ‘em. So Brian has been helping us out with that.”

(That seemed to quell any unrest about having one of the world’s leading bankers in the room.)

“I don’t know if this is a lectern or a pulpit,” Bono told the crowd, folding his arms on the wooden podium in front of him, “but I feel oddly comfortable. It’s a bit of a worry, isn’t it? So … welcome to Pop Culture Studies 101. Please take out your notebooks. Today we are going to discuss why rock stars should never, ever be given access to microphones at institutes of higher learning.

“You will receive no credit for taking this class,” Bono joked, “not even street cred — it’s too late for that. I will, of course, be dropping the occasional pop culture reference to give the impression that I know where your generation is at. I do not. I am not sure where I am at.”

Good. I’m not the only one who feels ancient amidst this audience of youngsters, I thought.

“And the first existential question of this class might be, ‘What am I doing in [Gaston] Hall?’” Bono quipped. “I could be down having my third pint at The Tombs….Pop culture references. Rock star does research.”

Score one for said rock star. The room erupted in laughter at the mention of one of the campus’ legendary watering holes.

“I heard Election Night was quite messy on the pint front. Isn’t it amazing how three pints can make everything seem like victory, but four or five and you just know you’re about to taste defeat,” he continued. “Anyway, congratulations are in order. Not just for turning out in record numbers, but — forgetting politics for a minute — for electing an extraordinary man as president. I think you have to say that whatever your political tradition.”

Bono also congratulated the audience for being freed from the “tyranny” of political “attack ads.” Imagine, he said, if they never went away, if attack ads were the norm for everything, even, say, college admissions.

“Hello. We’re Georgetown and we approved this message,” he said in the stoic voice of a political ad announcer. “Let me say a few words about some other fine institutions you might be considering. UVA: Thomas Jefferson, what have they done to you? Syracuse: A school whose mascot is a fruit. Duke: A school that worships the devil.

“Georgetown – you’re in with the other guy! Georgetown has God on its side. Everyone knows God is a Catholic, right?” said Bono, whose late mother was a Protestant and late father, Bob, a Catholic. “Two words: Frank Sinatra. That proves it!”

All jokes aside — and he was terrifically witty throughout his nearly hour long address — Bono turned his attention to his true passion: helping the world’s poorest of the poor.

“I’d like to hear attack ads on things worth attacking. If there was an attack ad on malaria, I’d get that, because 3,000 people die every day — mostly kids — of malaria. Let’s have an attack ad on malaria. Let’s have an attack ad on mother-to-child transmission of HIV/AIDS. I’d get that. Choose your enemies carefully because they define you. Make sure they’re interesting enough because trust me, you’re going to spend a lot of time in their company. So let’s pick a worthwhile enemy, shall we?

“How ’bout all the obstacles to fulfilling human potential — not just yours or mine but the world’s potential?” he continued. “I would suggest to you that the biggest obstacle in the way right now is extreme poverty. Poverty so extreme that it brutalizes, it vandalizes human dignity. Poverty so extreme it laughs at the concept of human dignity. Poverty so extreme it doubts how far we’ve traveled in our journey of equality; the journey that began with Wilberforce taking on slavery and a journey that will not end until misery and deprivation are in stocks.”

Were Bono an actual preacher, that was where he would have pounded his fists on the pulpit.

Painted on the wall behind the podium where this unlikely preacher of the Gospel of Social Justice spoke are the Latin words: Ad majorem Dei gloriam inque hominum salutem. Earlier, Georgetown’s president, John De Gioia, reminded the students of their meaning: “For the greater glory of God and the betterment of humankind.”

The Abolitionists. The Suffragettes. The Civil Rights Movement.

Social movements have always been powerful, Bono told the audience, but there is something special about this moment in history — it’s “transformative.”

“This moment, this generation [has] the chance that you have to rid the world of the obscenity of extreme poverty. Wouldn’t that be a hell of a way to start the 21st century?”

You could have heard a pin drop. The kids seated on either side of me were leaning forward in their chairs. They were listening with the attentiveness professors only dream about. Bono had their attention and kept it as he told them about the power they have to make changes — significant, global changes — by the conscious choices they make about how they spend their money, through social media and emerging technologies, by making sure their politicians keep the promises they’ve made about foreign aid funding in Africa and the rest of the developing world.

Something big was happening in the room. You could feel it. A palpable presence. I’d call it the Holy Spirit.

And it reminded me of a night 10 years ago at another college campus, when Bono spoke at my alma mater, Wheaton College in Illinois. At the time, I was traveling with Bono and his organization DATA (a predecessor of ONE) across the Midwest where he was trying to get American evangelicals (in particular) to turn their attention to the AIDS emergency in sub-Saharan Africa and to do something about it as a matter of justice — as a matter of the heart of their own faith.

Bono’s address at Wheaton fell about half-way through the Heart of America tour and it was a turning point not only for the tour, but for the movement it sparked. American evangelicals — the great “sleeping giant,” as Bono called them at the time — woke up, got involved, and worked for change. The monumental successes in alleviating crushing debt, supplying life-saving HIV/AIDS drugs, malaria netting, and the funds to put millions of African children in school for the first time are a testament to what transpired in Wheaton’s Edmund Chapel in early December 2002.

I know students who were there that night who’ve gone on to dedicate their careers and lives to helping the “least of these.” I, too, jaded journalist and wounded evangelical as I was at the time, was changed. Healed. Inspired and transformed.

The same thing was happening in Gaston Hall last night.

“Those people I’ve been talking about today — the poor — they’re not ‘those people,’ they’re not ‘them.’ They’re us. They’re you,” Bono said toward the end of his address. “They dream as you dream. They value what you value. There is no them, only us. The American anthem is not exceptionalism, it’s universalism. There is no them. Only us. Ubuntu. ‘I am because we are.’ There is no them. Only us.”

Maybe it’s a sheer coincidence (I’m doubtful) that the motto of Georgetown, a Jesuit university, is Utraque Unum, which means “both into one.”

Ultraque Unum in Latin.

Ubuntu in a dialect from South Africa where Archbishop Desmond Tutu — the man Bono only half-kidding says he works for — has taken the word as his own life’s motto.

Bono turned his attention to the Jesuits and their founder St. Ignatius of Loyola, to whom that Latin quote on the wall of the Gaston hall often is attributed.

“St. Ignatius, he was a soldier,” Bono began. “He was lying on a bed recovering from his wounds when he had what they call a conversion of the heart. He saw God’s work and the call to do God’s work. Not just in the church, in everything, everywhere. The arts, universities, the Orient, the New World. And once he knew about that, he couldn’t unknow it.

“It changed him,” Bono said. “It forced him out of bed and into the world. And that’s what I’m hoping happens here in Georgetown with you. Because when you truly accept that those children in some far off place in the global village have the same value as you — in God’s eyes or even just in your eyes — then your life is forever changed. You see something that you can’t unsee.”

Sitting there, tears dripping down my cheeks, I could feel it. Minds were opened. Hearts and eyes were, too.

Who knows when we look back 10 years from now, what the result of some of those Georgetown students seeing what they couldn’t unsee will be.

May we all have the eyes to see it.–Cathleen Falsani

Transform and Transcend: The U2 Conference Returns in 2013

September 21, 2012

In early autumn 2009, my life was changing significantly for the better in many beautiful ways. One October afternoon, I boarded a Greyhound bus to head east to meet a friend near Asheville, North Carolina, before heading on the next day to the Raleigh-Durham area for the inaugural U2 Conference and my third show (of six total) of the 360 tour.

What an honor to take my 25 year love affair with U2 and turn it into an intimate presentation about some of the more delicate aspects of my life, U2’s lives, and the message of their music for people struggling with addiction and recovery. But my talk titled “The Meme of Surrender” was only one of many windows into the intellectual, spiritual, and activist lenses with which we better understand the musical and societal contributions of our favorite band.

The 2009 conference changed lives and the forthcoming conference in spring 2013 will surely do the same. Never before had such wide and international collaboration of writers, professors, preachers, activists, and fans come together in such a unique fashion under an academic but inclusive big tent to offer sustained, in-depth meditations on the meanings of U2.

So many highlights soar in my memories three-years out, but some deserve more mention, in hopes that someone reading this might make the trek to Cleveland next April.

I will never forget hanging out after Saturday’s lunch, midway through the three-day conference, with a fellow presenter who had never seen U2 and didn’t have a ticket for Saturday’s show. A couple of us fans found this tragic. How could you have come this far, this close, and not be ready for liftoff with several thousand of your dearest friends? We convinced our colleague, who found a single seat online, and decided to come along for the party.

During a session called “Every Poet Is A Thief” and during a paper discussing “Lemon” in particular, when the presenter cued up the song for us to hear, a couple of us could not help but to get out of our classroom chairs, you know the kind that are desk and seat all in one, to start dancing to U2 at one of their most disco-soul moments.

In a weekend when the epiphanies wouldn’t stop coming, meeting African activist Agnes Nyamayarwo was more than amazing. We’ve thought in the abstract about how U2 and their fans have been involved in movements to save lives, but hearing this testimony from Agnes put face and place to such bold redemptive claims. Lots of ink has been spilled in recent years to criticize Bono’s approaches to African issues, but meeting Agnes offered a saving counterargument that supersedes the critics.

Agnes and her friends had brought some hand-made jewelry made by folks in Africa. My beaded, red, ONE bracelet is so beautiful and special and unique, that I will always treasure it as one of many mementos from that fall weekend. The weekend also prompted the publication of an anthology and a new online journal of U2 studies will soon lanch.

While I doubt U2 will show up to play a concert, and while I am not sure that Cleveland in April could ever be as beautiful as North Carolina in October, the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame and Museum is a more than perfect venue and partner for a conference like this. I predict scholars and fans from all over the world will converge on America’s north coast for the second U2 studies conference. Everything you could want to learn about the 2009 conference along with all the breaking news about the 2013 conference as it becomes available are at http://u2conference.com. There’s plenty of time to draft a proposal or determine another way that you might get involved. See you next year in Cleveland!!!

–Andrew William Smith, Editor

(Image: Webzine editor Andrew William Smith meets up with hardcore U2 fan and author Cathal McCarron.)

Take Off Your Boots: Wonder and Wander at the U2 Revival in Nashville

July 4, 2011

Tennessee summers get steamy hot, and when U2’s sort of homecoming finally came to Music City on the first Saturday in July, we knew we were in for a scorcher, with temperatures reaching and staying in the mid-90s. For the Irish quartet’s second gig ever in the fabled capitol city of the Volunteer state, fans were willing to sweat it out in close proximity to thousands of others as the unschooled rock and roll preacherman known as Bono once again turned Saturday night into Sunday morning.

As the show grew closer, I enjoyed and joined the feverish buzz around town as well as on Twitter and the fan forums, anticipating an “It Might Get Wow” kind of moment to get stuck in, to shake up the standard and beautifully scripted setlist. In my mind, a special-guest saturated superjam seemed in order, perhaps involving former tour-openers Kings of Leon or Edge’s fellow guitar god Jack White joining the band onstage for an It Might Get Loud-reunion rendition of “The Weight.” Of course, I knew Bono had a few other Nashville connections that might prompt extended shout-outs or other unusual alterations in the two-hour-and-fifteen-minute itinerary.

But rather than get treated to “The Weight,” we got to wait, as we found our cheap, sidestage endzone seats in full view of the setting sun. While Florence Welch is a brave and beautiful diva whose striking voice more than fills a stadium, the conditions made it challenging to fully appreciate her opening the show. Uncomfortable doesn’t quite describe the last couple of hours before U2’s set, awash in anxious perspiration and too amped for meditation on the deeper meaning of the night.

When U2 finally took the stage, we found an aisle place to stand closer to the action and were entirely ready for God’s mysterious ways to remind us why we were there and relieve any obsession with our creaturely discomfort. The opening Achtung attack of early-90s tracks surely stole our attention and prompted Bono’s first speechifying of the night, a righteous rant about peace, freedom, and democracy during “Until The End Of The World.”

Dipping back to the very back of the catalog, a ferocious “I Will Follow” was filled with lots of new lyrical twists I’d never noticed before and a punk-rock passion that made it only fitting for Bono to pull the inked and shirtless fan “Tattoo Dan” onstage to wail with him during the final “your eyes” refrain.

Having heard “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” at several stops on the 360 tour, I was ready for the stunning stretch early in the song where Bono goes silent and lets the entire stadium sing. While I’ve always both listened to and joined this choir with the open heart of my off-pitch participation, I was actually a little disappointed that I wasn’t moved to goosebumps or tears as I often am at this part of the concert. Faithful as we fans who follow this band to multiple dates are, we tend to raise the emotional bar of our expectations. Truth be told, I am not sure our perspectives are particularly fair—for us to constantly notice or even be too critical of the concert’s choreographed aspects—especially when we’re surrounded by folks experiencing this brand of communal joy for the first and possibly only time.

Perhaps the quick “our friend Cowboy Jack in-the-house” nod at about two minutes in (referencing the band’s Rattle and Hum period colleague who introduced U2 to the legendary Johnny Cash) could have served as my clue, but no Nashville rumors or high hopes could have prepared me for the extended snippet of 1993’s “The Wanderer” that concluded “I Still Haven’t Found.” Originally an epic Zooropa collaboration with the late Johnny Cash, and appearing live in a proper U2 concert for the first-time ever, Bono gave us the gravity of his best, deep-throated Cash growl as his rendering of the song’s apocalyptic and biblical narrative made time stand still for a few stanzas of music history in Music City.

After the deep valley of Cash-mimic slipped into a smoother, high-pitched Bono mountaintop for the last few seconds of the song, the frontman got emotional and raspy to talk a little story from the mic: “Wow, we had some special times with Johnny and June here in Nashville over the years. I feel like I should take my shoes off when in his company—beautiful, beautiful, beautiful spirit. Next time, we’re going out to Hendersonville, Tennessee to say goodbye.”

Nothing about the crazed consumeristic postmodernism of the band’s 1990s experiments or their current carnivalesque equivalent in the gaudy “Get On Your Boots” could let us in the rustic sound of the rugged song Bono once described as the “antidote” to all that. Based in part on the Old Testatment’s book of Ecclesiastes and narrated by a character called the Preacher whose trajectory of sin to salvation resembles the real-life Man in Black, Bono revealed to us all in Nashville that some songs are too sacred to sing every night and reminded us of the abiding spiritual truth that some places and people are so holy that they require us to take off our boots.

To say that to be a part of that special moment (a mere seven songs into the show!) made my night would be an understatement. But the honest underside to this confession is that after this, the rest of show seemed to blaze by in a steamy and sober but foggy blur.

You couldn’t drink enough water to stay hydrated, and after one of too many trips to the bathroom, we ended up just standing in the concourse by a misting fan outside the First Aid station. We know some people had to leave the show on stretchers, passed out under duress from the cramped coziness of the stadium and punishing Bonnaroo-quality heat. As we watched dozens of exhausted fans head to the exits of their own accord during “One,” we pondered ditching and reluctantly made ourselves stay, still hoping for one more surprise.

Not even the always stratospheric strains of “Where The Streets Have No Name” could elevate my weary mood or soothe my suddenly gloomy mind, sad that my sixth and final show of the 2009-2011 run of the 360 tour was coming to a close. But things started to change when Bono started his concluding rap before “Moment of Surrender.” I’d been waiting for more Nashville-specific testimony since “The Wanderer,” and we really got it.

Bono began by namechecking folks from the contemporary Christian music scene—people like Michael W. Smith, Charlie Peacock, Amy Grant, and Jars of Clay—referencing the positive changes that came after what was dubbed the “Nashville Summit” during Bono’s visit here on his World AIDS Week Tour in 2002. Before that time, according to Bono, “There was no one on AIDS drugs on the continent of Africa. Now, because of the United States of America, four million lives have been saved and have been put on those anti-retroviral drugs.”

Then, what had been a tribute to the late Clarence Clemons for the last few shows, became a deeply cosmic and simultaneously Christological benediction hymn. “You’ve heard of the miracle of the loaves and fishes,” Bono preached. “Well, we’re going to make this space station disappear. We’re going to turn this place into the Milky Way. Would you take out your phones? Turn these lights off Willie. There’s our little planet in the corner—our little bluish planet spinning around the sun. Some people find it harder than others to hold on. This song belongs to them. It’s the theme of our whole show. This song is called ‘Moment of Surrender.’ Thank you, Lord.”

As we tied ourselves with wire to the final thread of the set, I hung on Bono’s every word. For too long in my 20s and 30s, I’d been falling into black holes and worshipping at altars of some very dark stars. In my early 40s, the band of my teens helped pull me back via the stations of the cross. Couple Bono’s poetry about addiction and redemption with Edge’s perfect keyboard and guitar, and we have the sonic salve to the scarier and seedier sides of life inside skin on this spinning globe. As Edge moaned the final “Whoa, oh, ohhhhs,” Bono started chanting rap-style, “Where were you when they crucified my Lord,” over and over and over again.

As the crowd roared and the band prepared for its final bow, Bono kept talking: “Thanks for your patience, unbelievable people. I don’t know what’s happening to this band. Thank you.” Then, with the other three heading to the ramps, Bono kneeled into the crowd. Apparently, a man had been holding a sign that said “Blind Guitar Player,” front row center, for the entire night, and now, Bono was talking to him.

Bono asked the man, “What do you want to play?” Then, “Get a guitar for this dude. Gents, we have a surprise guest. Give him my guitar, little acoustic guitar.” After Bono and crew helped the blind brother onstage, they fit him with Bono’s green “Irish Falcon” guitar, the one played during “The Fly” and that has the words “The Goal Is Soul” etched upon its body.

Putting “dude” in front of the mic, Bono asked, “What’s your wife’s name?” Then, speaking his only words, he replied, “My wife’s name is Andrea,” followed by a long pause, followed by “I’m real nervous man,” followed by the familiar opening of “All I Want Is You.” For a split-second, it was just Bono and blind “dude” tentatively treading water on top of the song, but then suddenly, they were joined by the rest of the band and the entire stadium screaming and singing along. And in my case, I was finally crying the tears that didn’t come on cue earlier, turning away from the stage to stare into the oh-so soft and also wet eyes of my sweetheart.

No, Bono didn’t go as far as laying-on-hands and restoring eyesight to our special guest. But at this point, I doubt any of us would have been surprised had that happened. But Bono did give his new friend a particular green guitar to take home to hopefully play many more love songs on.

There was a time when U2 really didn’t write romantic love songs and even resisted the idea. But in a town that’s got heart-soaked ballads dripping from the public fountains and infused into the drinking water, ending with such lyrical intimacy seemed more than fitting. Originally a love song to Bono’s wife Ali, “All I Want Is You” became a love song for lovers everywhere, performed that night by a group whose even larger love for the world could no longer be contained by a college football stadium. After such a show, we had to take that love with us back into the Nashville streets, where we could take off our boots and walk on holy ground. –Andrew William Smith, Editor

All photos shot for Interference, copyright David Bundy (David Bundy Photoworks, http://www.davebundy.com/)

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