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ONE love, blood, life
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By Carrie Alison, Chief Editor
2005.06
I've been lucky enough to see U2 in concert six times in my life—two shows during the 1997 PopMart Tour and four during 2001's phenomenal Elevation Tour. Each show is distinctive and memorable in myriad ways that I'll share with you now.
After having the chance to see PopMart twice, I never would've dreamed that I'd be lucky enough to see the Elevation Tour four times, even landing in the Heart twice! Below are two Elevation Tour experiences and some photos I took along the way, with memories of the final two soon to follow.
Elevation Tour Launch, Sunrise, Fl. – March 24, 2001
To say I was excited to attend the liftoff of the Elevation Tour in Sunrise is an understatement—it was more than that, much more. I grew up in South Florida and because of work and distance, am not able to go back as much as I'd like to, so the tour launch enabled me to visit my old stomping grounds in West Palm Beach and my best friend who had been paralyzed in a terrible horseback riding accident in 1997.
After taking care of some personal matters, three of my best friends and I headed to the National Car Rental Center. Two of them had gone to that first PopMart show with me, and anticipated that I'd turn on the waterworks as soon as I heard Bono's now-famous "woo hoo!" intro to "Elevation." There were tears, sure, but this time I was seeing a U2 concert as a remarkably healed young woman, not the scared and confused college girl who cried her entire life out of her eyeballs at PopMart.
PJ Harvey, my favorite female rock artist of all time, was due to open the show but, unfortunately, she took ill with a cold and Irish pop band The Corrs had to fill in. I still look back on this and say that had Polly Jean opened as planned, this show would have been one of the best and most important shows of my young life.
What a sight to behold—the launch of a U2 tour with so much energy and anticipation dangling in the air like the scent of dandelion in a summer breeze. The world press was in attendance, no doubt waiting with baited, yet resolutely critical, breath to either praise every second of the show or tear U2 apart for embracing its own popularity and epic sound. No one in the audience knowing what U2 would play, how the longtime band mates would play it, how long they would play. With a band as beloved as U2, with 25 years of joyous music under its over-100-million-albums-sold belt, how does the biggest band in the universe launch its first tour in four years?
With the lights on, that's how.
Unlike PopMart, which saw the band approaching the stage on foot through the seated audience—the Elevation Tour launch brought the house down with the lights on. I remember that vision as if my eyelids had chosen it as a permanent screensaver. The strains of "Elevation" began, you could hear guitar, the audience roars, everyone stands on their feet to scream as loud as they can, and then it started—Bono's now legendary "woo hoo!" clarion call.
The woo hoo's continued for about 30 more seconds, which would then, one assumes, usher in the big reveal of the band shortly after the house lights had gone down. This was not the case. I remember wondering if the band had even arrived, given South Florida's penchant for insane interstate traffic delays. More guitars. The house lights are still on. You can hear the crowd mumbling this sentiment, wondering what is going on. Then the band takes the stage. With. The. House. Lights. On.
It really is a marvel to see U2 doing what they do best. No matter how you slice it, how much you try and fight it, your guard will come down at a U2 concert, even when you least expect it. It could be during a rousing number such as "I Will Follow," a quieter moment during "Stuck in a Moment," or an emotionally stirring tune such as "Gone," all of which were played on this night.
Aside from hearing some of my all time favorite U2 jams again in concert, two distinct things stand out for me on the night. Bono introduced a new token bit for the Elevation tour—band member introductions. Ever-youthful drummer Larry Mullen, Jr. was introduced as "the man who gave us our first job," bassist Adam Clayton crowned "the man with the biggest instrument in U2" and Edge dubbed "the scientist of the band."
Not since the early days of the War Tour in 1983 and Bono's infamous speaker-climbing escapades have we as fans gotten to experience a true "oh no!" moment at a U2 show. Most moments, no matter how poignant, are choreographed to a T. On this night, however, even though it was Opening Night, Bono had a stunning and scary moment for himself, and all of us, and, shockingly, not on purpose. During a spirited rendition of "Until the End of the World," Bono fell off the stage while at the edge of the catwalk and was knocked out momentarily. The sound of tens of thousands gasping at the same time is something I'll never forget. Bono, of course, was fine. And, as MacPhisto used to say, it was off with the horns, and "on with the show."
Elevation, Atlanta – March 30, 2001
Driving to Atlanta from Florida is always a test of personal skill and determination, the interstates and highways within Atlanta's city limits are some of the most horrifying experiences I've ever had on the road. Three or four lanes of traffic on either side of you. Cars whizzing by at speeds that can only be described as extreme or "oh my God!"
The Philips Arena was thankfully easy to find, unlike many places in Atlanta (just try to find Bacchanalia and you'll know what I mean.) We had gotten there three hours early to get situated in the general admission line with hopes of securing a good vantage point near the stage on inside the arena, the area typically know as the Heart. To our amazement, only about 50 people had staked their place in line by 3:45pm, so we knew we had arrived in the nick of time. All we had to do now was wait.
Once my boyfriend and I had pulled up some floor and sat down expecting to quietly relax and gaze at the nearby buildings—I was pleasantly surprised when a friendly female voice addressed me to ask, "So where are you guys from?" Shocked by the friendliness of this complete stranger, I turned around to meet a wide grin from her. "Tallahassee," I said. "Are you really? My gosh, what a coincidence!" she said. "I went to Florida State!" "So did I!" I said, shocked again. "Wow," she said, leaning back against the arena wall, closing her eyes and smiling.
My conversation buddy then put her headphones back on, from which I could hear the unmistakable sounds of a live version of "Bad." Ah yes, I really was communing amongst a bunch of U2 fans. Several feet down from us stood a group of 20-something guys with goatees debating whether or not they thought U2 would play "Desire," "Wild Honey" and "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" during an acoustical set tonight. The discussion became pretty heated with various theories and confident reasoning, punctuated by the dramatic pauses offered by a cigarette.
The time slowly passed as the late winter early evening breeze blew through downtown Atlanta. In two hours, the line of 50 people had grown to a loquacious throng of approximately 250 anxious fans. When a security guard exited the arena at last around 5:45pm, everyone rose to his or her feet, awaiting the announcement that we would be let in to claim our place around the heart inside.
What should have been a straightforward procedure to let the impatient crowd inside became a war zone when for no apparent reason, the security personnel for the arena began separating the GA line into two lines—letting the back end of the line move forward, effectively allowing the people who had arrived five minutes before the doors opened to go in first. This is when the other shoe dropped. Those of us who had been there for hours ran over to merge with the new line, desperate to get inside. This caused the "late arrivals" to become incensed at us "early arrivals" and began screaming at and threatening our line—thinking they had every right to go in before those of us who were starving, hot and exhausted and had waited outside for three hours. It was terrible; I couldn't believe a riot had broken out at a U2 concert. As the situation grew more extreme and out of control, the venue security did nothing to stop what was happening once angry concertgoers started squeezing through the very thin open doors.
Once inside, my boyfriend and I received the bracelets that would gain us entry into the Heart. The chaos was not over yet, however, as people immediately started running to get inside the arena, pushing and knocking over people in their way. We couldn't believe it. What we thought was going to be a wonderful, communal experience had mutated into the type of atmosphere I'd imagined for the Warped Tour, not a U2 show, compounded by the fact that the Philips Arena security team didn't care to efficiently manage the situation to prevent injuries or the riot that had transpired outside.
Unfortunately we weren't able to run fast enough to grab hold of the Heart's ramp, but we didn't care. After everything, we were just happy and honored to be in the Heart at all in time to see pop starlet Nelly Furtado perform. At first, I'd questioned U2 bringing on the young Furtado as a warm-up act simply because she was just riding the success of one hit single, the ubiquitous "I'm Like a Bird" that had found its way into high rotation on VH1 and MTV. We had assumed she would be nails-on-a-chalkboard irritating with her nasal voice, but what we witnessed was the performance of a very talented young lady with her Portuguese history firmly in her mind and in her beats.
When U2 took the stage shortly after Furtado's set, I was anticipating my energy level to be at bay since I had only seen them six days previous. I was mistaken. The "woo hoos" get me every time. No Bono spills that night, but I do believe longtime friend Michael Stipe was in the house as U2 took on small bits of REM classic hits—"Losing My Religion" and "Everybody Hurts" during the encore performance of "One."
It would be seven months before I would see another Elevation show. In that time, the face of one of the greatest cities in the world (and my new hometown) would change forever when two hijacked commercial airliners took down the World Trade Center towers in Manhattan. U2 fans in America (and the world over) would look to the band's legendary strength and tidal power as a security blanket and shoulder to cry on in the coming months as the fearless band honored its fall tour schedule and helped all of us begin to walk on.
Images courtesy of Carrie Alison.
Carrie Alison can be reached at carrie@interference.com
By Carrie Alison, Chief Editor
2005.06
I've been lucky enough to see U2 in concert six times in my life—two shows during the 1997 PopMart Tour and four during 2001's phenomenal Elevation Tour. Each show is distinctive and memorable in myriad ways that I'll share with you now.
After having the chance to see PopMart twice, I never would've dreamed that I'd be lucky enough to see the Elevation Tour four times, even landing in the Heart twice! Below are two Elevation Tour experiences and some photos I took along the way, with memories of the final two soon to follow.
Elevation Tour Launch, Sunrise, Fl. – March 24, 2001
To say I was excited to attend the liftoff of the Elevation Tour in Sunrise is an understatement—it was more than that, much more. I grew up in South Florida and because of work and distance, am not able to go back as much as I'd like to, so the tour launch enabled me to visit my old stomping grounds in West Palm Beach and my best friend who had been paralyzed in a terrible horseback riding accident in 1997.
After taking care of some personal matters, three of my best friends and I headed to the National Car Rental Center. Two of them had gone to that first PopMart show with me, and anticipated that I'd turn on the waterworks as soon as I heard Bono's now-famous "woo hoo!" intro to "Elevation." There were tears, sure, but this time I was seeing a U2 concert as a remarkably healed young woman, not the scared and confused college girl who cried her entire life out of her eyeballs at PopMart.
PJ Harvey, my favorite female rock artist of all time, was due to open the show but, unfortunately, she took ill with a cold and Irish pop band The Corrs had to fill in. I still look back on this and say that had Polly Jean opened as planned, this show would have been one of the best and most important shows of my young life.
What a sight to behold—the launch of a U2 tour with so much energy and anticipation dangling in the air like the scent of dandelion in a summer breeze. The world press was in attendance, no doubt waiting with baited, yet resolutely critical, breath to either praise every second of the show or tear U2 apart for embracing its own popularity and epic sound. No one in the audience knowing what U2 would play, how the longtime band mates would play it, how long they would play. With a band as beloved as U2, with 25 years of joyous music under its over-100-million-albums-sold belt, how does the biggest band in the universe launch its first tour in four years?
With the lights on, that's how.
Unlike PopMart, which saw the band approaching the stage on foot through the seated audience—the Elevation Tour launch brought the house down with the lights on. I remember that vision as if my eyelids had chosen it as a permanent screensaver. The strains of "Elevation" began, you could hear guitar, the audience roars, everyone stands on their feet to scream as loud as they can, and then it started—Bono's now legendary "woo hoo!" clarion call.
The woo hoo's continued for about 30 more seconds, which would then, one assumes, usher in the big reveal of the band shortly after the house lights had gone down. This was not the case. I remember wondering if the band had even arrived, given South Florida's penchant for insane interstate traffic delays. More guitars. The house lights are still on. You can hear the crowd mumbling this sentiment, wondering what is going on. Then the band takes the stage. With. The. House. Lights. On.
It really is a marvel to see U2 doing what they do best. No matter how you slice it, how much you try and fight it, your guard will come down at a U2 concert, even when you least expect it. It could be during a rousing number such as "I Will Follow," a quieter moment during "Stuck in a Moment," or an emotionally stirring tune such as "Gone," all of which were played on this night.
Aside from hearing some of my all time favorite U2 jams again in concert, two distinct things stand out for me on the night. Bono introduced a new token bit for the Elevation tour—band member introductions. Ever-youthful drummer Larry Mullen, Jr. was introduced as "the man who gave us our first job," bassist Adam Clayton crowned "the man with the biggest instrument in U2" and Edge dubbed "the scientist of the band."
Not since the early days of the War Tour in 1983 and Bono's infamous speaker-climbing escapades have we as fans gotten to experience a true "oh no!" moment at a U2 show. Most moments, no matter how poignant, are choreographed to a T. On this night, however, even though it was Opening Night, Bono had a stunning and scary moment for himself, and all of us, and, shockingly, not on purpose. During a spirited rendition of "Until the End of the World," Bono fell off the stage while at the edge of the catwalk and was knocked out momentarily. The sound of tens of thousands gasping at the same time is something I'll never forget. Bono, of course, was fine. And, as MacPhisto used to say, it was off with the horns, and "on with the show."
Elevation, Atlanta – March 30, 2001
Driving to Atlanta from Florida is always a test of personal skill and determination, the interstates and highways within Atlanta's city limits are some of the most horrifying experiences I've ever had on the road. Three or four lanes of traffic on either side of you. Cars whizzing by at speeds that can only be described as extreme or "oh my God!"
The Philips Arena was thankfully easy to find, unlike many places in Atlanta (just try to find Bacchanalia and you'll know what I mean.) We had gotten there three hours early to get situated in the general admission line with hopes of securing a good vantage point near the stage on inside the arena, the area typically know as the Heart. To our amazement, only about 50 people had staked their place in line by 3:45pm, so we knew we had arrived in the nick of time. All we had to do now was wait.
Once my boyfriend and I had pulled up some floor and sat down expecting to quietly relax and gaze at the nearby buildings—I was pleasantly surprised when a friendly female voice addressed me to ask, "So where are you guys from?" Shocked by the friendliness of this complete stranger, I turned around to meet a wide grin from her. "Tallahassee," I said. "Are you really? My gosh, what a coincidence!" she said. "I went to Florida State!" "So did I!" I said, shocked again. "Wow," she said, leaning back against the arena wall, closing her eyes and smiling.
My conversation buddy then put her headphones back on, from which I could hear the unmistakable sounds of a live version of "Bad." Ah yes, I really was communing amongst a bunch of U2 fans. Several feet down from us stood a group of 20-something guys with goatees debating whether or not they thought U2 would play "Desire," "Wild Honey" and "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" during an acoustical set tonight. The discussion became pretty heated with various theories and confident reasoning, punctuated by the dramatic pauses offered by a cigarette.
The time slowly passed as the late winter early evening breeze blew through downtown Atlanta. In two hours, the line of 50 people had grown to a loquacious throng of approximately 250 anxious fans. When a security guard exited the arena at last around 5:45pm, everyone rose to his or her feet, awaiting the announcement that we would be let in to claim our place around the heart inside.
What should have been a straightforward procedure to let the impatient crowd inside became a war zone when for no apparent reason, the security personnel for the arena began separating the GA line into two lines—letting the back end of the line move forward, effectively allowing the people who had arrived five minutes before the doors opened to go in first. This is when the other shoe dropped. Those of us who had been there for hours ran over to merge with the new line, desperate to get inside. This caused the "late arrivals" to become incensed at us "early arrivals" and began screaming at and threatening our line—thinking they had every right to go in before those of us who were starving, hot and exhausted and had waited outside for three hours. It was terrible; I couldn't believe a riot had broken out at a U2 concert. As the situation grew more extreme and out of control, the venue security did nothing to stop what was happening once angry concertgoers started squeezing through the very thin open doors.
Once inside, my boyfriend and I received the bracelets that would gain us entry into the Heart. The chaos was not over yet, however, as people immediately started running to get inside the arena, pushing and knocking over people in their way. We couldn't believe it. What we thought was going to be a wonderful, communal experience had mutated into the type of atmosphere I'd imagined for the Warped Tour, not a U2 show, compounded by the fact that the Philips Arena security team didn't care to efficiently manage the situation to prevent injuries or the riot that had transpired outside.
Unfortunately we weren't able to run fast enough to grab hold of the Heart's ramp, but we didn't care. After everything, we were just happy and honored to be in the Heart at all in time to see pop starlet Nelly Furtado perform. At first, I'd questioned U2 bringing on the young Furtado as a warm-up act simply because she was just riding the success of one hit single, the ubiquitous "I'm Like a Bird" that had found its way into high rotation on VH1 and MTV. We had assumed she would be nails-on-a-chalkboard irritating with her nasal voice, but what we witnessed was the performance of a very talented young lady with her Portuguese history firmly in her mind and in her beats.
When U2 took the stage shortly after Furtado's set, I was anticipating my energy level to be at bay since I had only seen them six days previous. I was mistaken. The "woo hoos" get me every time. No Bono spills that night, but I do believe longtime friend Michael Stipe was in the house as U2 took on small bits of REM classic hits—"Losing My Religion" and "Everybody Hurts" during the encore performance of "One."
It would be seven months before I would see another Elevation show. In that time, the face of one of the greatest cities in the world (and my new hometown) would change forever when two hijacked commercial airliners took down the World Trade Center towers in Manhattan. U2 fans in America (and the world over) would look to the band's legendary strength and tidal power as a security blanket and shoulder to cry on in the coming months as the fearless band honored its fall tour schedule and helped all of us begin to walk on.
Images courtesy of Carrie Alison.
Carrie Alison can be reached at carrie@interference.com
