FullonEdge2
Refugee
- Joined
- Aug 19, 2004
- Messages
- 1,314
I don't have the magazine. I just read what was on the link!
Blender Pictures
- Thread starter Nate Dogg
- Start date
The friendliest place on the web for anyone that follows U2.
If you have answers, please help by responding to the unanswered posts.
If you have answers, please help by responding to the unanswered posts.
TheBrazilianFly
Rock n' Roll Doggie FOB
FullonEdge2 said:
I have but I didn't see anything about Mercy there. Maybe I missed it... AGAIN! This is the second time I do that. I'm too excited!
martha
Blue Crack Supplier
B
sides
sides
SkeeK
The Original, Rock n' Roll Doggie, VIP PASS
it's about time we got more than 3 bsides from a u2 album. here's hoping...
We have 3 so far I guess.. if you include fast cars. 4 if you count neon lights (which i'm sorta tempted not to)
We have 3 so far I guess.. if you include fast cars. 4 if you count neon lights (which i'm sorta tempted not to)
madonna's child
Rock n' Roll Doggie VIP PASS
Thanks for the pics!
I think my brother gets Blender... must get copy...
I think my brother gets Blender... must get copy...
RademR
Rock n' Roll Doggie VIP PASS
the article is good, but did you see the track-by-track? It might be the best review yet, I love when Adam throws in his opinions because he's as real as it gets. BLENDER seem to love the album, calling it "magnificent."
I've totally did a 180 now on "Crumbs", they came up with that tune when they were drunk? got to hear it, and blender is calling it a classic.
I've totally did a 180 now on "Crumbs", they came up with that tune when they were drunk? got to hear it, and blender is calling it a classic.
learn2kneel
War Child
Didn't U2 get thir cd stolen while they were shooting in a pool? probly this photo shoot.
standrums
War Child
Queen Bee said:
that top one is quality!!lol
starsgoblue
Blue Crack Addict
Want. Need. Must have. HTDAAB. Now. 
oliveu2cm
Rock n' Roll Doggie FOB
Thanks Natt 
OP
OP
Nate Dogg
Refugee
Okay, here it is...the continuation of the article that appears online and in BLENDER (link appears somewhere in this thread...)
BLENDER IS IN the shower the following morning when Bono calls. But, as any friend of the Sonic Leprechaun will confirm, he’s not a man easily deterred by voicemail. He chats freely, and even gives regular weather reports.
Bono has been up for hours, boxing— getting in shape for the upcoming world tour — listening to music, strolling on the beach, jotting down ideas.
“I’ve been trying to meet the muse on the way home rather than walking her home,” he jokes, but, being Bono, he’s also had a few more serious thoughts.
“I don’t know whether we should talk about the Presidential election,” he says. “You see, I’m not going to come down on one side or another. I’m bipartisan. There, I’ve come out and said it. So it might be a cool thing not to discuss it anyway. I dunno.”
A month later, Bono and his wife Ali are in bold attendance as John Kerry makes his Democratic Convention acceptance speech (with its suspiciously Bono-like “I’m reporting for duty” opener). The speech segues seamlessly into U2’s “Beautiful Day.”
BACK AT THE PAPAYA Beach bar, Larry Mullen, U2’s ageless drummer, casually lifts his shirt, revealing abs on which you could grate carrots. The intake of breath from the women — and a few of the men— in the room is audible. Oblivious to this sudden lack of oxygen, Mullen idly scratches his stomach and lowers his narrow behind onto a convenient sofa.
Bono will tell you two facts about Larry Mullen Jr. (and rarely has the “Junior” been so apt): He is resistant to the ravages of time because, like Dorian Gray, he keeps a painting in his attic that ages horribly every year while Mullen preserves his boyish looks. He calls this hideous image “Bono.” Secondly, never get into a fight with Mullen because he’s always got back up. “He might not necessarily thump you,” Bono explains, “but you never know who’s around the corner.”
But right now, the taut, tough beat-master is observing a cute kitten as it skitters across the bare boards toward him. The tiny ball of fur, no bigger than one of his sneakers, suddenly lunges and the fearless drummer shrieks like a girl. “I hate cats,” he shudders, pathetically attempting to regain his composure. “I had a terrible experience with one as a child.”
By way of a distraction, Mullen rhapsodizes about the bands that U2 cut their teeth with on the London club circuit.
“You listen to some of the records now and they’re still brilliant,” he enthuses. “Echo and the Bunnymen and Teardrop Explodes’ first albums. Great songs. They really stand up. They had a real confidence and presence about them. I’ve been listening to all that stuff again recently.”
Could the reemergence of the Edge’s classic guitar sound, the reappearance of Steve Lilly-white (producer of U2’s debut) and Mullen’s reacquaintance with the School of 1979 suggest a midlife crisis? A 40-odd year old yearning for long-gone youth?
“Possibly,” says Clayton, has in recent years taken on the clean and serene demeanor of a plain-clothes Buddhist monk. Despite his untold millions and a bulging property portfolio, he appears to have renounced the material world and wears the comfortable sandals and apologetic expression of a man who has seen the error of his druggobbling, supermodel-bothering ways. “We had a lot of fun back then,” he smiles wryly.
Ask Bono when was the time U2 went out together their hair down, and he’ll his answer with “Well, of Adam doesn’t drink -adding, “but we’ve had some. pretty wild games of Scrabble.” “Sometimes we’ll still pour petrol on our heads, light a match and see what happens.”
But, in their well-loved jeans and favorite T’s, U2 has never been about outlandish decadence or conspicuous consumption. It’s well known that they own large chunks of Ireland, with enviable slices of French and American real estate on the side. But their business affairs, suavely conducted by their manager and “fifth member” Paul McGuinness, have always been the very model of gentlemanly discretion.
Bono might share a sandwich with Bill Gates and have the Clintons around for dinner, but, given the choice, he would still take them to the local pub in his battered Volvo. He is certainly one of the few stars with the Pope’s home number on speed-dial, but what did Il Papa get as a cathedral-warming gift? Some cheap sunglasses and a stubbly kiss.
While U2 have outwardly succumbed to the more vulgar rock-star trappings —Elevation Air, a 4o-seater 727 jumbo jet with staff pilots and stewardesses was the chosen means of transport for their last tour — such investments often make sound financial sense.
They’ve bought the houses, the Harleys, the holiday haciendas and, in Bono’s case, a couple of sheep, but they’ve all learned, often the hard way, that “a house doesn’t make a home.”
Hence, we find ourselves once again gawking like teenagers at Paul Allen’s floating gin-palace the 413-foot Octopus turns out to be one of three such yachts he owns — which is virtually obscuring the perfect sunset behind it.
Bono has allowed himself a beer and is attacking the house salad with commendable zeal. He orders carpaccio of squid with French fries and mayonnaise (“God’s own fish ‘n’ chips”) for his guests and selects several bottles of the robust local rosé with the air of a regular who won’t be needing the wine list, merci.
Over dinner, Bono frets about tomorrow’s shoot for the album cover. He wants to portray the band as friends who have made it into their 40's and accept each other, faults and all. Perhaps, Bono suggests, a picture of U2 sitting around a café table drinking coffee and talking? Or maybe, he teases, just a shot of a muscular drummer diving naked into the ocean.
This idea seems remarkably popular with all but one person here tonight.
“Feck that,” says Mullen.
Before Bono slips his feet into his thick-soled sandals, preparing for the short walk home, his features take on a beatific glow. “How do you dismantle an atomic bomb?” he asks. In the absence of any sensible reply, he removes his sun-
glasses and lowers his voice to a whisper. “With love,” he says.
“And a lot of care,” Mullen adds. As always, it takes Bono an age to
leave. An incurable socializer, he drifts around the restaurant, gossiping with the early diners and trafficking wine to the outside tables. “So what have you been doing with yourself?” asks an attractive older lady and Bono, international power. broker, suddenly becomes a tongue-tied schoolboy. “Well, we’ve finished our new record,” he stammers, “which is ... really good. We’ve just got to get the songs in order and it’s kind of finished.”
THESE WORDS RING hollow the following evening when, at the end of a publicity photo shoot, the Edge goes to his boom box to check the running order he’s been tweaking all day, only to discover the disc is missing. The fact slowly dawns that U2’s album has been stolen.
As there are only a handful of complete copies in existence, the potential for bootlegging is immense. The French police are called, and the U2 organization goes into smoothly efficient overdrive. Two years’ work and millions of dollars are at stake. People in high places are contacted. The Edge is beside himself with worry; Bono is bullish; Mullen is very quiet, and Clayton retains a Zen-like calm. As they weren’t planning to release the album until November, four months away, they need a solution —and fast.
“U2 Still Haven’t Found What They’re Looking For” crow the newspapers the next morning as the story breaks. But the band has a plan. Should even one track appear on the Internet they will release the whole album through i-tunes immediately. Other than that, they’ll just have to wait.
“Well, that’s our holidays fucked,” says Bono bravely and casts his mind back 24 hours to less stressful times.
He was sitting in a bar by the beach, staring at the sea wondering what the four members of U2 will be doing at age 8o.
“God willing, we’ll be in the snug of a Dublin pub,” he says smiling, regarding his band mates with fatherly affection. “Larry will still look 25 years old, Adam will be sitting cross-legged having found nirvana and the Edge will be sipping a pint of Guinness, taking it all in, saying, ‘I’ve just had a thought
And Bono?
“It’s a fairly safe bet,” says Mullen, squinting into the middle distance, “that Bono will probably still be talking.” [~~~‘]
(any grammar/punctuation errors courtesy of my scanner.....)
BLENDER IS IN the shower the following morning when Bono calls. But, as any friend of the Sonic Leprechaun will confirm, he’s not a man easily deterred by voicemail. He chats freely, and even gives regular weather reports.
Bono has been up for hours, boxing— getting in shape for the upcoming world tour — listening to music, strolling on the beach, jotting down ideas.
“I’ve been trying to meet the muse on the way home rather than walking her home,” he jokes, but, being Bono, he’s also had a few more serious thoughts.
“I don’t know whether we should talk about the Presidential election,” he says. “You see, I’m not going to come down on one side or another. I’m bipartisan. There, I’ve come out and said it. So it might be a cool thing not to discuss it anyway. I dunno.”
A month later, Bono and his wife Ali are in bold attendance as John Kerry makes his Democratic Convention acceptance speech (with its suspiciously Bono-like “I’m reporting for duty” opener). The speech segues seamlessly into U2’s “Beautiful Day.”
BACK AT THE PAPAYA Beach bar, Larry Mullen, U2’s ageless drummer, casually lifts his shirt, revealing abs on which you could grate carrots. The intake of breath from the women — and a few of the men— in the room is audible. Oblivious to this sudden lack of oxygen, Mullen idly scratches his stomach and lowers his narrow behind onto a convenient sofa.
Bono will tell you two facts about Larry Mullen Jr. (and rarely has the “Junior” been so apt): He is resistant to the ravages of time because, like Dorian Gray, he keeps a painting in his attic that ages horribly every year while Mullen preserves his boyish looks. He calls this hideous image “Bono.” Secondly, never get into a fight with Mullen because he’s always got back up. “He might not necessarily thump you,” Bono explains, “but you never know who’s around the corner.”
But right now, the taut, tough beat-master is observing a cute kitten as it skitters across the bare boards toward him. The tiny ball of fur, no bigger than one of his sneakers, suddenly lunges and the fearless drummer shrieks like a girl. “I hate cats,” he shudders, pathetically attempting to regain his composure. “I had a terrible experience with one as a child.”
By way of a distraction, Mullen rhapsodizes about the bands that U2 cut their teeth with on the London club circuit.
“You listen to some of the records now and they’re still brilliant,” he enthuses. “Echo and the Bunnymen and Teardrop Explodes’ first albums. Great songs. They really stand up. They had a real confidence and presence about them. I’ve been listening to all that stuff again recently.”
Could the reemergence of the Edge’s classic guitar sound, the reappearance of Steve Lilly-white (producer of U2’s debut) and Mullen’s reacquaintance with the School of 1979 suggest a midlife crisis? A 40-odd year old yearning for long-gone youth?
“Possibly,” says Clayton, has in recent years taken on the clean and serene demeanor of a plain-clothes Buddhist monk. Despite his untold millions and a bulging property portfolio, he appears to have renounced the material world and wears the comfortable sandals and apologetic expression of a man who has seen the error of his druggobbling, supermodel-bothering ways. “We had a lot of fun back then,” he smiles wryly.
Ask Bono when was the time U2 went out together their hair down, and he’ll his answer with “Well, of Adam doesn’t drink -adding, “but we’ve had some. pretty wild games of Scrabble.” “Sometimes we’ll still pour petrol on our heads, light a match and see what happens.”
But, in their well-loved jeans and favorite T’s, U2 has never been about outlandish decadence or conspicuous consumption. It’s well known that they own large chunks of Ireland, with enviable slices of French and American real estate on the side. But their business affairs, suavely conducted by their manager and “fifth member” Paul McGuinness, have always been the very model of gentlemanly discretion.
Bono might share a sandwich with Bill Gates and have the Clintons around for dinner, but, given the choice, he would still take them to the local pub in his battered Volvo. He is certainly one of the few stars with the Pope’s home number on speed-dial, but what did Il Papa get as a cathedral-warming gift? Some cheap sunglasses and a stubbly kiss.
While U2 have outwardly succumbed to the more vulgar rock-star trappings —Elevation Air, a 4o-seater 727 jumbo jet with staff pilots and stewardesses was the chosen means of transport for their last tour — such investments often make sound financial sense.
They’ve bought the houses, the Harleys, the holiday haciendas and, in Bono’s case, a couple of sheep, but they’ve all learned, often the hard way, that “a house doesn’t make a home.”
Hence, we find ourselves once again gawking like teenagers at Paul Allen’s floating gin-palace the 413-foot Octopus turns out to be one of three such yachts he owns — which is virtually obscuring the perfect sunset behind it.
Bono has allowed himself a beer and is attacking the house salad with commendable zeal. He orders carpaccio of squid with French fries and mayonnaise (“God’s own fish ‘n’ chips”) for his guests and selects several bottles of the robust local rosé with the air of a regular who won’t be needing the wine list, merci.
Over dinner, Bono frets about tomorrow’s shoot for the album cover. He wants to portray the band as friends who have made it into their 40's and accept each other, faults and all. Perhaps, Bono suggests, a picture of U2 sitting around a café table drinking coffee and talking? Or maybe, he teases, just a shot of a muscular drummer diving naked into the ocean.
This idea seems remarkably popular with all but one person here tonight.
“Feck that,” says Mullen.
Before Bono slips his feet into his thick-soled sandals, preparing for the short walk home, his features take on a beatific glow. “How do you dismantle an atomic bomb?” he asks. In the absence of any sensible reply, he removes his sun-
glasses and lowers his voice to a whisper. “With love,” he says.
“And a lot of care,” Mullen adds. As always, it takes Bono an age to
leave. An incurable socializer, he drifts around the restaurant, gossiping with the early diners and trafficking wine to the outside tables. “So what have you been doing with yourself?” asks an attractive older lady and Bono, international power. broker, suddenly becomes a tongue-tied schoolboy. “Well, we’ve finished our new record,” he stammers, “which is ... really good. We’ve just got to get the songs in order and it’s kind of finished.”
THESE WORDS RING hollow the following evening when, at the end of a publicity photo shoot, the Edge goes to his boom box to check the running order he’s been tweaking all day, only to discover the disc is missing. The fact slowly dawns that U2’s album has been stolen.
As there are only a handful of complete copies in existence, the potential for bootlegging is immense. The French police are called, and the U2 organization goes into smoothly efficient overdrive. Two years’ work and millions of dollars are at stake. People in high places are contacted. The Edge is beside himself with worry; Bono is bullish; Mullen is very quiet, and Clayton retains a Zen-like calm. As they weren’t planning to release the album until November, four months away, they need a solution —and fast.
“U2 Still Haven’t Found What They’re Looking For” crow the newspapers the next morning as the story breaks. But the band has a plan. Should even one track appear on the Internet they will release the whole album through i-tunes immediately. Other than that, they’ll just have to wait.
“Well, that’s our holidays fucked,” says Bono bravely and casts his mind back 24 hours to less stressful times.
He was sitting in a bar by the beach, staring at the sea wondering what the four members of U2 will be doing at age 8o.
“God willing, we’ll be in the snug of a Dublin pub,” he says smiling, regarding his band mates with fatherly affection. “Larry will still look 25 years old, Adam will be sitting cross-legged having found nirvana and the Edge will be sipping a pint of Guinness, taking it all in, saying, ‘I’ve just had a thought
And Bono?
“It’s a fairly safe bet,” says Mullen, squinting into the middle distance, “that Bono will probably still be talking.” [~~~‘]
(any grammar/punctuation errors courtesy of my scanner.....)
Last edited:
starsgoblue
Blue Crack Addict
Thanks for putting that up! What a wonderful interview/article.
OP
OP
Nate Dogg
Refugee
starsgoblue
Blue Crack Addict
Nate Dogg said:
Queen Bee said:
nice of U2 to give The Office of U2 Securite a subtle plug
nurse chrissi
Rock n' Roll Doggie FOB
Headache in a Suitcase said:
nice of U2 to give The Office of U2 Securite a subtle plug
well the office is an international organization isn't it?
suprised you were not called in on the missing CD case....or maybe you were......
thanks nate!
TheBrazilianFly
Rock n' Roll Doggie FOB
Thanks Nate Dogg! 
RademR
Rock n' Roll Doggie VIP PASS
Thanks nate dogg, good lookin
BluRmGrl
Rock n' Roll Doggie ALL ACCESS
starsgoblue said:Want. Need. Must have. HTDAAB. Now.
Yeah - what she said!!!
Jam Jar
New Yorker
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RademR
Rock n' Roll Doggie VIP PASS
is this issue of Blender out yet in stores? I checked a CVS pharmacy, a supermarket, and a Borders and they all had the one with Hilary Duff on the cover. Anyone know? thanks.
Muggsy
Refugee
Queen Bee said:
hahaha
OP
OP
Nate Dogg
Refugee
RademR said:
I'd give it til next week. I usually see my issue in my mailbox about a week ahead of the stores.
In fact, the Ad in the previous issue says this one will be out on the 19th, so maybe that is the retail date....
babyman
Rock n' Roll Doggie VIP PASS
wonderful pics, u2 still having fun like the earlier times
feelingdizzy
Babyface
- Joined
- Sep 26, 2004
- Messages
- 20
Great pics and interview! I still wonder about the song "Mercy". Where did you all read about that song? I read the interview on Blender's website and Nate Dogg's transcript of the rest of the interview, but I can't find it anywhere.
Then I noticed this part of the interview, with a sentence which seems unfinished to me:
“I have a theory,” Mullen begins, and a reverential silence descends as the drummer — traditionally the first band member to be shouted down in these situations — becomes what Bono immediately anoints “the best B-side you’ve ever heard.”
... sounds like Mullen becomes the B-side, LOL. Am I supposed to insert the part about "Mercy" here?
Nate Dogg, can you help? I'd really like to know, cause we haven't heard about this song before, as far as I know. It sounds interesting to me.
And a big thank you for the scans and transcript!!
Then I noticed this part of the interview, with a sentence which seems unfinished to me:
“I have a theory,” Mullen begins, and a reverential silence descends as the drummer — traditionally the first band member to be shouted down in these situations — becomes what Bono immediately anoints “the best B-side you’ve ever heard.”
... sounds like Mullen becomes the B-side, LOL. Am I supposed to insert the part about "Mercy" here?
Nate Dogg, can you help? I'd really like to know, cause we haven't heard about this song before, as far as I know. It sounds interesting to me.
And a big thank you for the scans and transcript!!
Sleep Over Jack
Refugee
- Joined
- Sep 23, 2004
- Messages
- 2,089
Jam Jar said:
I can't see it anywhere..
Jam Jar
New Yorker
Sleep Over Jack said:
..it's under a link. it says something along the lines of beware large files ahead..
learn2kneel
War Child
blender was at barnes and noble, it was sold out by the end of the day... good sign
OP
OP
Nate Dogg
Refugee
feelingdizzy said:Great pics and interview! I still wonder about the song "Mercy". Where did you all read about that song? I read the interview on Blender's website and Nate Dogg's transcript of the rest of the interview, but I can't find it anywhere.
Then I noticed this part of the interview, with a sentence which seems unfinished to me:
“I have a theory,” Mullen begins, and a reverential silence descends as the drummer — traditionally the first band member to be shouted down in these situations — becomes what Bono immediately anoints “the best B-side you’ve ever heard.”
... sounds like Mullen becomes the B-side, LOL. Am I supposed to insert the part about "Mercy" here?
Nate Dogg, can you help? I'd really like to know, cause we haven't heard about this song before, as far as I know. It sounds interesting to me.
And a big thank you for the scans and transcript!!
"I have a theory," Mullen begins, and a reverential silence descends as the drummer -- traditionally the first band member to be shouted down in these situations -- states his case. After just five minutes, it has been unanimously decided that the track "Mercy," a six-and-a-half-minute outpouring of U2 at its most uninhibitedly U2-ish, must go.
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