Tom Dunne: Stripped-down songs on new U2 album make for great listening
U2 bring David Letterman around Dublin in a new streaming show, and they also release Songs Of Surrender, an album of 40 reinterpreted tracks from their back catalogue
FRI, 10 MAR, 2023 - 02:00
Tom Dunne
In the new U2 film that is coming to Disney+ — U2: A Sort of Homecoming with David Letterman — Edge asks of their music, “What is left when everything is stripped away?” The answer is this album: Songs of Surrender. It is U2, laid bare.
There’s a lot to take in. Forty career-spanning songs, over four albums, one side for each band member. It’s produced by Bob Ezrin, a producer best known for his work in the 1970s with Alice Cooper and Pink Floyd. His presence is apt here, as this is a ‘School’s Out’ U2.
Production is minimal. There are some strings, choirs, and brass, but they barely raise their heads above the parapet. Unlike in the Disney film, all four of U2 are present and correct, but don’t expect screaming guitar, or thunderous bass, or much evidence of the drummer who could “kickstart the 46A”. Here, sparse is everything.
What’s gone is almost as striking as what remains. On earlier songs it is the fire and certainly of youth, not to mention the wonderful production of Steve Lillywhite, that is absent. On later tracks it is the delicately applied sonic landscapes of Eno and Daniel Lanois, brush strokes that masterfully teased out the subtlest of emotions.
That is a lot to take away. Bono has talked of it being “U2 without the artifice”. These days artifice has come to mean something that deceives you. But once it just meant a skilled piece of workmanship and that for me is always where U2’s music resided.
So, what are you left with when those supports are gone? ‘Walk On’ has been reimagined for Ukraine and it is one of several songs where lyrics have been changed. ‘Who’s Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses’ and ‘City of Blinding Lights’ retain their ethereal power, and ‘Stay (Faraway so Close)’ - with very subtle strings from John Metcalfe - is as beautiful as ever.
Older fans will appreciate certain song choices. It is a joy to hear ‘11 O’clock Tick Toc’k in any apparel and ‘Two Hearts (Beat as One)’ is wonderful. I thought it was a hit then. I think it is a hit now.
But what really starts to strike you, as you listen on, is how much of each song is in the vocal. It is phrasing, melody, a little inflection here, a little emotion there. The voice carries the song, the message, the story. And stripped back, it has nowhere to hide.
It doesn’t need to. Without the sumptuous music of U2, what strikes you, again and again, is the strength of Bono’s lyrics and vocal. Often, the band’s job is to not get in the way, to lift but not obscure; highlight, but not complicate. And Adam, Larry and Edge are as good at leaning back as they are at leaning forward. That is no mean feat.
To hear Bono revisit lyrics, some of which he wrote to celebrate his 18th birthday, some of which he wrote as 27-year-old singer in the “biggest kick-ass band in the world” is fascinating. His voice is stronger than ever but tempered now with ever more humanity.
I can’t help but think that this album owes a lot to covid. The pandemic stripped almost everything away from all of us, and you can’t help but suspect that enforced isolation and not touring for the first time since 1979, engendered a reappraisal: What is left in our music when everything else is gone?
There is one thing that is not in U2’s gift to strip away, and that is what we bring to their music. We bring our own feelings to these songs, our own little inner production and expectation. For some, these stripped back versions may not meet those expectations.
The song ‘40’ closes the album. It was the song they used to close their sets with before they wrote ‘Bad’. Its asks now, as it did then, “How long, How long, to sing this song?” It’s very striking to hear it still being sung, and after all we’ve lived through since hearing it first.
It feels as timeless and uplifting as it was then. There’s a strength in it, an optimism, a togetherness. I’ve sung it in fields with people I don’t know, put my arms around them and raised the heavens.
So maybe that is the answer to the question: What is left when you strip everything away? A voice raised in hope, togetherness, a song. Perfect!