HelloAngel
ONE love, blood, life
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By Carrie Alison, Chief Editor
2005.08
I've been lucky enough to see U2 in concert six times in my life—two shows during PopMart in 1997 and four shows during 2001's phenomenal Elevation Tour. Each show is distinctive and memorable in myriad ways for me that I will share with you now.
After I had had the chance to see PopMart twice, I'd have never dreamed I'd be lucky enough to see the Elevation Tour four times, even landing in the heart twice. Below is another one of my Elevation stories, set in Sin City.
Elevation, Las Vegas—Nov. 18, 2001
I confess, I have a serious aversion to flying. I break out in sweats, I grip the seat handles, I stare straight ahead and even cry a little sometimes. I make the attendants very nervous with my looks of fear and desperation. So, the pleasure of flying two months to the day after 9/11 to Las Vegas to present my company’s products for a week at COMDEX—a powerhouse tech industry convention—wasn't exactly my idea of a good time but I knew I had an Interference.com party and U2 concert waiting for me at week's end. Side note: if you want to know something eerie, I'd been online buying tickets to the Las Vegas show in the minutes before the tragic events of 9/11 transpired.
After the cruel week of standing on thin carpet for seven hours for five days straight at COMDEX (don't even get me started on the whole "you aren't allowed to have a stool" union policy), Friday night was a bonding experience with people I instantly felt like I had known forever, specifically Christine and April, who welcomed me as a "sister" or "oodle," as we took to calling ourselves, after having met me online just two months earlier. We laughed, talked, went from bar to bar to hotel and hotel, never really considering the fact that we were kinda sorta complete strangers, that's how deep a U2 fan's bond is with another fan. I believe we probably made Nefertiti's Lounge at the Luxor more fun than it should have been and I know my panic attack on the hotel's Inclinator was probably funnier than any Carrot Top performance has a right to be.
On Saturday night, the Interference.com party at the Hard Rock Café was a welcome distraction from the stress of hawking our wares. It was my first time hanging around a group of U2 fans in a social setting and was half-expecting to want to get the hell out of there quick as if I was at a sci-fi convention full of "Farscape" fans dressed as their favorite characters. Luckily, the people I found huddled around the bar were so down-to-earth sweet, friendly and funny (and normal) that I wanted to stay all night and chat. I met some amazing people from the message boards and, if possible, felt my love for U2 grow. Not only had the band provided me with the soundtrack of my life, it was now giving me a new family of friends from all over the world.
After my boyfriend, co-worker and I bid the party adieu, we headed over to the Hard Rock Hotel to presumably do some gambling and settle in at the famous Circle Bar to people watch. When we had gone Thursday night, we met up with two guys who had already staked their claim in line at the Thomas and Mack Center with hopes of being directly in front of the stage. This night, however, we could feel the excitement in the air although we could not have predicted what would transpire. As we were walking towards the Circle Bar to order drinks, we passed Adrian Young (who has the bluest eyes I've ever seen) and Stephan Bradley of No Doubt. We couldn't believe it, we then went into total stalk mode.
My boyfriend became determined to find Gwen Stefani, assuming she was also in the house on this night. I scanned around for a bleach blonde head wearing bright red lipstick, or even No Doubt bassist Tony Kanal, but failed to locate either band mate. Bummed, I decided to go to the restroom to fix my makeup. Pity that I have a habit of looking down when I'm nervous in public, but as I was walking into the restroom and over to a stall, I missed what we had been looking for. That's right, Gwen Stefani herself had indeed walked out of the bathroom as I was walking in and brushed up against my boyfriend's shoulder in the process. I knew this only after I exited the bathroom and saw the huge smile on his face. He looked as if he had seen the most awe-inspiring vision he'd ever seen, not unlike how he looks at me in the morning (just kidding).
Catching his second wind, he took off yet again to find her, nearly taking my arm out of its socket. Our co-worker was nonplussed, saying in no certain terms that he had no interest in celebrities and that we could find him at a craps table. After 20 minutes of rounding the perimeter of the casino, my boyfriend gave up finding his dream girl again. We decided to get a drink at the Circle Bar as planned to calm ourselves. As we checked out the gorgeous crowd that had gathered, we noticed a familiar guy sitting next to us. Amazingly, it was none other than Kevin Griffin, lead singer of Better Than Ezra, scowling as usual into his drink, wearing a colorful scarf and acting as if he didn't want anyone to notice him, yet wanted all to know he was "famous." I say as usual because this wasn't the first time we'd run into him. When my boyfriend and I used to do contract work in New Orleans for another band years back, Griffin and his band mates used to frequent the same bars as us, and so upon seeing him sitting next to me again, I looked him up and down and let out a loud, "Ha!" He grumbled something and then took off.
The next morning I received a very early wakeup call from Christine breathlessly telling me that at 8:30 am, there were already 450 people lined up outside the Thomas and Mack Center. I couldn't believe it. Here I'd thought that our three-hour escapade in Atlanta had been for the birds but this was an altogether different riot. I begrudgingly woke my boyfriend and then roused our displeased co-worker with the rather odd command to get out of bed, shower and meet me in the lobby ASAP to get in line at the venue.
We arrived to the venue about 45 minutes later to find Christine, April and a gaggle of other Interferencers staking their claim to the GA line. I used to think I was crazy for watching "Rattle and Hum" and the ZooTV Sydney video every day in high school--but this was a new adventure in crazy even for me. What were we to do in the desert for 10 hours? How exactly were we to pass our time?
Like the night before, the family atmosphere fostered amongst U2 fans once again took shape, and soon everyone was milling about talking about how many Elevation shows they'd seen, where they were from, how long they'd been fans, etc. Some had brought breakfast and lawn chairs, others more ill-prepared like myself and my crew, simply sat on the parking lot ground and tried not to think about the dirt that was now covering every inch of our undersides. We had, mind you, other worries now, such as the dry desert air (something this native Floridian doesn't know how to cope with), where we might find food and drink and perhaps, most importantly, a clean restroom.
Towards the close of morning, venue security arrived and informed us that we were free to come and go as we wished so long as we had a placeholder to keep our spot in line to avoid problems with other ticket holders. All 1000 concertgoers now snaking around the side of the building collectively breathed a sigh of relief to this announcement. This meant I was free to return to the MGM Grand to take a shower and have some quiet time before the night's show, and that my boyfriend and co-worker could make a pizza run so that we wouldn't starve.
As morning became afternoon, and groups of fans formed to chatter, sleep or jam to a bootleg on a boom box, Christine joined us to play cards on the pavement. It was then that I realized a U2 gig is as much about the fans as it is about the band. Sure, Bono can natter on at length about how "live is really where U2 live" but it's also where fans live too. Much like a church is not defined by its walls and steeple but by the congregation gathered together inside.
The desert afternoon sun and air is killer on your lungs in November. Closely monitoring my watch and clocking the venue security can seem tedious, but when you can't breathe deeply due to a lifelong case of diminished lung capacity, things can get very tricky and very interesting. I decided the best thing for me to do was get up and meet the fellow fans around me while my boyfriend and co-worker engaged in a rather heated game of War. As I was rising off of my sore knees, I heard a loud mix of laughter and excited chatter that made me think perhaps a member of U2 had come to the GA area to greet fans. I was almost right. Danno, the lead singer of popular tribute band Elevation, was making the rounds with the crowds. My knees went weak; he looked so much like Bono that everyone thought it was Bono. He had the whole look down pat--same height, same weight, leather jacket, cargo pants, the hair and, of course, the shades. Alas though, the only official sighting of U2 we'd get before the show was of Elevation Air, the band's huge corporate jet, flying over Las Vegas.
Finally the evening was upon us, meaning the venue doors were opening, allowing us to hurry inside to claim a desirable spot in the heart. My crew and I were lucky enough to get on the left side of it, The Edge's side. Not too shabby a place, as it would turn out later in the show.
Freshly promoting its new album, "Rock Steady," Orange County's own No Doubt opened the show. Perhaps stereotypically girly of me, I am a huge fan of Gwen Stefani and her gang and couldn't wait to dance, dance, dance. My boyfriend was excited to see his dream girl again and we were all relieved to just be indoors and out of the dry, desert air. The show was phenomenal, and the purple feather boa I had worn to get Bono's attention during U2's set, was used to perfect my dance moves, or, ahem, what I believed to be dance moves.
What happened shortly after No Doubt left the stage and U2's roadies took over was purely something out of Page Six's "Sightings" column. None other than Pearl Jam's resident recluse Eddie Vedder walked into the heart solo, carrying a beer and not trying to hide himself. He stood quietly among the fans for a few minutes but once the whisperings started and the fingers pointed, his not-so-secret cover was blown and he was soon smiling, taking pictures and graciously talking to all who dared approach him.
Once the security guards saw that Eddie was being mobbed, they took him in the security barrier between the pit and the heart's catwalk, settling him directly behind me to my luck. After a few moments passed and the anxious fans had begun to leave him alone, I turned around and said hello, told him I loved his music and that I was so happy to see him at the show. He smiled sweetly and said, "Thank you." I left it at that because I didn't have much to say and wanted him to have his space.
U2's vamp music had begun shortly after and the heart became cramped do to the onslaught of VIPs entering the floor. I scanned the crowd for anyone recognizable, but only found skinny, heavily made-up women in tight dresses, corporate-looking men in suits, people who were trying too hard to be cool, yet unimpressed that they had a laminate, and wait, who's that … all of No Doubt on the right-side of the heart, also waiting for the show to start. When I realized that was all the celeb watching to be done, a path cleared in front of me and soon I was staring face to cheek at the lovely Ali Hewson, Bono's wife. Unassuming in a tank top and jeans, Ali had a look of determination as she made her way to the back of the heart with friends in tow. Now, I was satisfied.
It goes without saying that this particular show meant more than most Elevation shows, given when the show was happening—just two months after the tragic events of 9/11. The tension and sadness were palpable, and it registered on everyone's weary faces. We had all gathered for a rock show, but in the autumn of 2001, U2's Elevation Tour was so much more than a rock show, it was a shoulder to cry on, a way to joyously sing out loud for a couple hours and let it all go.
Back to Eddie Vedder to lighten up a bit—watching him watch the concert was surreal. During "Bad" and some other songs, his famously bright blue-green eyes would well up with tears and he'd look down and light a cig and gently sway to the music. Sometimes, when Bono was on the catwalk in front of us, I was able to have two of my heroes—Bono and Eddie—within one foot of me, very odd and very cool. I loved watching Eddie react to the show; he rocked out and had a great time.
For those of you who were at this show, you know how it went, how special it was, how spot on the boys were that night. It was one of those shows the band members played like their lives depended upon it, and one would guess that they knew the audience's collective happiness depended on it too. When "Walk On" played, and the scroll of names rolled, the magnitude of it all can become unbearable, to where for the first time—you have to look away at a U2 concert. You got lost in your thoughts of the song, the relevance and ubiquity it took on in those early weeks, the images of Mayor Giuliani, of the Towers, of the papers, ash, people and rescue workers…
Now that I live in New York City, and just blocks away from Ground Zero, I can't help but think of "Walk On" and a world of things when I find myself in eyeshot of it when walking to Borders on Broadway. I think of freedom, peace, happiness, sadness and the lasting strains of Bono singing, "Stay safe tonight."
Images courtesy of Carrie Alison.
Carrie Alison can be reached at carrie@interference.com.
By Carrie Alison, Chief Editor
2005.08
I've been lucky enough to see U2 in concert six times in my life—two shows during PopMart in 1997 and four shows during 2001's phenomenal Elevation Tour. Each show is distinctive and memorable in myriad ways for me that I will share with you now.
After I had had the chance to see PopMart twice, I'd have never dreamed I'd be lucky enough to see the Elevation Tour four times, even landing in the heart twice. Below is another one of my Elevation stories, set in Sin City.
Elevation, Las Vegas—Nov. 18, 2001
I confess, I have a serious aversion to flying. I break out in sweats, I grip the seat handles, I stare straight ahead and even cry a little sometimes. I make the attendants very nervous with my looks of fear and desperation. So, the pleasure of flying two months to the day after 9/11 to Las Vegas to present my company’s products for a week at COMDEX—a powerhouse tech industry convention—wasn't exactly my idea of a good time but I knew I had an Interference.com party and U2 concert waiting for me at week's end. Side note: if you want to know something eerie, I'd been online buying tickets to the Las Vegas show in the minutes before the tragic events of 9/11 transpired.
After the cruel week of standing on thin carpet for seven hours for five days straight at COMDEX (don't even get me started on the whole "you aren't allowed to have a stool" union policy), Friday night was a bonding experience with people I instantly felt like I had known forever, specifically Christine and April, who welcomed me as a "sister" or "oodle," as we took to calling ourselves, after having met me online just two months earlier. We laughed, talked, went from bar to bar to hotel and hotel, never really considering the fact that we were kinda sorta complete strangers, that's how deep a U2 fan's bond is with another fan. I believe we probably made Nefertiti's Lounge at the Luxor more fun than it should have been and I know my panic attack on the hotel's Inclinator was probably funnier than any Carrot Top performance has a right to be.
On Saturday night, the Interference.com party at the Hard Rock Café was a welcome distraction from the stress of hawking our wares. It was my first time hanging around a group of U2 fans in a social setting and was half-expecting to want to get the hell out of there quick as if I was at a sci-fi convention full of "Farscape" fans dressed as their favorite characters. Luckily, the people I found huddled around the bar were so down-to-earth sweet, friendly and funny (and normal) that I wanted to stay all night and chat. I met some amazing people from the message boards and, if possible, felt my love for U2 grow. Not only had the band provided me with the soundtrack of my life, it was now giving me a new family of friends from all over the world.
After my boyfriend, co-worker and I bid the party adieu, we headed over to the Hard Rock Hotel to presumably do some gambling and settle in at the famous Circle Bar to people watch. When we had gone Thursday night, we met up with two guys who had already staked their claim in line at the Thomas and Mack Center with hopes of being directly in front of the stage. This night, however, we could feel the excitement in the air although we could not have predicted what would transpire. As we were walking towards the Circle Bar to order drinks, we passed Adrian Young (who has the bluest eyes I've ever seen) and Stephan Bradley of No Doubt. We couldn't believe it, we then went into total stalk mode.
My boyfriend became determined to find Gwen Stefani, assuming she was also in the house on this night. I scanned around for a bleach blonde head wearing bright red lipstick, or even No Doubt bassist Tony Kanal, but failed to locate either band mate. Bummed, I decided to go to the restroom to fix my makeup. Pity that I have a habit of looking down when I'm nervous in public, but as I was walking into the restroom and over to a stall, I missed what we had been looking for. That's right, Gwen Stefani herself had indeed walked out of the bathroom as I was walking in and brushed up against my boyfriend's shoulder in the process. I knew this only after I exited the bathroom and saw the huge smile on his face. He looked as if he had seen the most awe-inspiring vision he'd ever seen, not unlike how he looks at me in the morning (just kidding).
Catching his second wind, he took off yet again to find her, nearly taking my arm out of its socket. Our co-worker was nonplussed, saying in no certain terms that he had no interest in celebrities and that we could find him at a craps table. After 20 minutes of rounding the perimeter of the casino, my boyfriend gave up finding his dream girl again. We decided to get a drink at the Circle Bar as planned to calm ourselves. As we checked out the gorgeous crowd that had gathered, we noticed a familiar guy sitting next to us. Amazingly, it was none other than Kevin Griffin, lead singer of Better Than Ezra, scowling as usual into his drink, wearing a colorful scarf and acting as if he didn't want anyone to notice him, yet wanted all to know he was "famous." I say as usual because this wasn't the first time we'd run into him. When my boyfriend and I used to do contract work in New Orleans for another band years back, Griffin and his band mates used to frequent the same bars as us, and so upon seeing him sitting next to me again, I looked him up and down and let out a loud, "Ha!" He grumbled something and then took off.
The next morning I received a very early wakeup call from Christine breathlessly telling me that at 8:30 am, there were already 450 people lined up outside the Thomas and Mack Center. I couldn't believe it. Here I'd thought that our three-hour escapade in Atlanta had been for the birds but this was an altogether different riot. I begrudgingly woke my boyfriend and then roused our displeased co-worker with the rather odd command to get out of bed, shower and meet me in the lobby ASAP to get in line at the venue.
We arrived to the venue about 45 minutes later to find Christine, April and a gaggle of other Interferencers staking their claim to the GA line. I used to think I was crazy for watching "Rattle and Hum" and the ZooTV Sydney video every day in high school--but this was a new adventure in crazy even for me. What were we to do in the desert for 10 hours? How exactly were we to pass our time?
Like the night before, the family atmosphere fostered amongst U2 fans once again took shape, and soon everyone was milling about talking about how many Elevation shows they'd seen, where they were from, how long they'd been fans, etc. Some had brought breakfast and lawn chairs, others more ill-prepared like myself and my crew, simply sat on the parking lot ground and tried not to think about the dirt that was now covering every inch of our undersides. We had, mind you, other worries now, such as the dry desert air (something this native Floridian doesn't know how to cope with), where we might find food and drink and perhaps, most importantly, a clean restroom.
Towards the close of morning, venue security arrived and informed us that we were free to come and go as we wished so long as we had a placeholder to keep our spot in line to avoid problems with other ticket holders. All 1000 concertgoers now snaking around the side of the building collectively breathed a sigh of relief to this announcement. This meant I was free to return to the MGM Grand to take a shower and have some quiet time before the night's show, and that my boyfriend and co-worker could make a pizza run so that we wouldn't starve.
As morning became afternoon, and groups of fans formed to chatter, sleep or jam to a bootleg on a boom box, Christine joined us to play cards on the pavement. It was then that I realized a U2 gig is as much about the fans as it is about the band. Sure, Bono can natter on at length about how "live is really where U2 live" but it's also where fans live too. Much like a church is not defined by its walls and steeple but by the congregation gathered together inside.
The desert afternoon sun and air is killer on your lungs in November. Closely monitoring my watch and clocking the venue security can seem tedious, but when you can't breathe deeply due to a lifelong case of diminished lung capacity, things can get very tricky and very interesting. I decided the best thing for me to do was get up and meet the fellow fans around me while my boyfriend and co-worker engaged in a rather heated game of War. As I was rising off of my sore knees, I heard a loud mix of laughter and excited chatter that made me think perhaps a member of U2 had come to the GA area to greet fans. I was almost right. Danno, the lead singer of popular tribute band Elevation, was making the rounds with the crowds. My knees went weak; he looked so much like Bono that everyone thought it was Bono. He had the whole look down pat--same height, same weight, leather jacket, cargo pants, the hair and, of course, the shades. Alas though, the only official sighting of U2 we'd get before the show was of Elevation Air, the band's huge corporate jet, flying over Las Vegas.
Finally the evening was upon us, meaning the venue doors were opening, allowing us to hurry inside to claim a desirable spot in the heart. My crew and I were lucky enough to get on the left side of it, The Edge's side. Not too shabby a place, as it would turn out later in the show.
Freshly promoting its new album, "Rock Steady," Orange County's own No Doubt opened the show. Perhaps stereotypically girly of me, I am a huge fan of Gwen Stefani and her gang and couldn't wait to dance, dance, dance. My boyfriend was excited to see his dream girl again and we were all relieved to just be indoors and out of the dry, desert air. The show was phenomenal, and the purple feather boa I had worn to get Bono's attention during U2's set, was used to perfect my dance moves, or, ahem, what I believed to be dance moves.
What happened shortly after No Doubt left the stage and U2's roadies took over was purely something out of Page Six's "Sightings" column. None other than Pearl Jam's resident recluse Eddie Vedder walked into the heart solo, carrying a beer and not trying to hide himself. He stood quietly among the fans for a few minutes but once the whisperings started and the fingers pointed, his not-so-secret cover was blown and he was soon smiling, taking pictures and graciously talking to all who dared approach him.
Once the security guards saw that Eddie was being mobbed, they took him in the security barrier between the pit and the heart's catwalk, settling him directly behind me to my luck. After a few moments passed and the anxious fans had begun to leave him alone, I turned around and said hello, told him I loved his music and that I was so happy to see him at the show. He smiled sweetly and said, "Thank you." I left it at that because I didn't have much to say and wanted him to have his space.
U2's vamp music had begun shortly after and the heart became cramped do to the onslaught of VIPs entering the floor. I scanned the crowd for anyone recognizable, but only found skinny, heavily made-up women in tight dresses, corporate-looking men in suits, people who were trying too hard to be cool, yet unimpressed that they had a laminate, and wait, who's that … all of No Doubt on the right-side of the heart, also waiting for the show to start. When I realized that was all the celeb watching to be done, a path cleared in front of me and soon I was staring face to cheek at the lovely Ali Hewson, Bono's wife. Unassuming in a tank top and jeans, Ali had a look of determination as she made her way to the back of the heart with friends in tow. Now, I was satisfied.
It goes without saying that this particular show meant more than most Elevation shows, given when the show was happening—just two months after the tragic events of 9/11. The tension and sadness were palpable, and it registered on everyone's weary faces. We had all gathered for a rock show, but in the autumn of 2001, U2's Elevation Tour was so much more than a rock show, it was a shoulder to cry on, a way to joyously sing out loud for a couple hours and let it all go.
Back to Eddie Vedder to lighten up a bit—watching him watch the concert was surreal. During "Bad" and some other songs, his famously bright blue-green eyes would well up with tears and he'd look down and light a cig and gently sway to the music. Sometimes, when Bono was on the catwalk in front of us, I was able to have two of my heroes—Bono and Eddie—within one foot of me, very odd and very cool. I loved watching Eddie react to the show; he rocked out and had a great time.
For those of you who were at this show, you know how it went, how special it was, how spot on the boys were that night. It was one of those shows the band members played like their lives depended upon it, and one would guess that they knew the audience's collective happiness depended on it too. When "Walk On" played, and the scroll of names rolled, the magnitude of it all can become unbearable, to where for the first time—you have to look away at a U2 concert. You got lost in your thoughts of the song, the relevance and ubiquity it took on in those early weeks, the images of Mayor Giuliani, of the Towers, of the papers, ash, people and rescue workers…
Now that I live in New York City, and just blocks away from Ground Zero, I can't help but think of "Walk On" and a world of things when I find myself in eyeshot of it when walking to Borders on Broadway. I think of freedom, peace, happiness, sadness and the lasting strains of Bono singing, "Stay safe tonight."
Images courtesy of Carrie Alison.
Carrie Alison can be reached at carrie@interference.com.
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