Presently occupying the position of World's Most Equally Loved and Loathed Band, it's easy to forget that U2 once pulled off a feat few ever achieve; completely reinventing themselves whilst winning over critics and bolstering an already vast fanbase. "Achtung Baby", "Zooropa" and the accompanying eye-popping tours represented the most fertile creative period of their career and for a while they seemed untouchable; straddling the globe like leather-clad, future-proofed, art-rockers, disposing of war and poverty along the way and doing it all with a smug swagger that showed they were clearly relishing their new found, hard won relevance.
For critics and fans alike though "Pop" was a step too far. Lurid, tacky and clutching desperately for modern impact and after a rethink, they duly retreated to the conservatism of "All That You Can't Leave Behind" and "How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb". "No Line On The Horizon"'s lead single "Get On Your Boots", then is a somewhat portentous trailer, its fuzzy bass, funky drums and trashy sentiment revisiting the ill-advised crossover efforts of "Pop". It's a ghastly mish-mash of ideas, the tune itself utterly forgettable and all told, about as groovy as your dad pissed and trying to moonwalk. And ten times as embarrassing to boot.
The rest of the album isn't quite so throwaway but repeatedly misfires nonetheless. "Stand Up Comedy" goes for a kind of funk rock Led Zeppelin meets Red Hot Chili Peppers thing but labours under a lousy riff straight out of '101 Easy Rock Licks'. It also suffers - as do "Breathe" and "Unknown Caller" (complete with toe-curling, heave-ho, buzzword chorus) from an excess of Bono's overcooked half sung/spoken vocals. Elsewhere, when he's not scatting or clumsily free associating, he's over emoting, yelping at the farthest reaches of his register with self-parodical "Whoas" and "Ohs". "Moment Of Surrender" starts promisingly enough, some softly clicking precision assembled loops teeing up what sounds like a graceful ballad a la "One", only for Bono to tear into the verse, as crass as a Crazy Frog ringtone at a funeral before screeching across the sweetest of harmonies in its chorus.
It's not entirely awful though. Brian Eno's intricate production rewards over repeated listens and "Magnificent" is so vintage U2 that it's impossible not to picture Bono sprinting through a stadium belting out its strident, euphoric chorus, while Edge's unmistakable, chiming guitar rings ad infinitum behind him. Whether or not this image appeals depends of course on which of the two camps you fall into. For the lovers, this patchy album offering moderate advance on its immediate predecessors will probably suffice. But in truth it's an unmitigated failure to reconcile the sound of their past with a cohesive vision of their future - effectively another fudged clasp at relevance, which as they approach the twilight of their career makes for a frequently excruciating listen.
5/10
Excellent.
