Surrendering to Vision over Visibility: No Lines on U2’s Spiritual Horizon

By Laurie Britt-Smith

March 10, 2009

U2′s latest, No Line on the Horizon, includes quite a bit of aural experimentation. The layering of sounds and the idea of “the sound” echo and repeat over and over. However, the exploration of the latter is a fascinating remix of themes U2 has covered before. Is “the sound” something as carnal as the babble of humanity in all its forms of expression secular and overtly sexual? Yes. Is “the sound” something sacred, reflecting the vibrations of a phenomenon that is soulful and spiritually connective? Yes.

One of the reasons this band is so entertaining, so captivating, comes from an amazing ability to combine the secular with the spiritual in a musical mix that operates on multiple levels. “Get on Your Boots” has a great beat and you can really dance to it – but it also has these weird little lyrics that can be both meaningless and/or philosophical depending on how seriously you are willing to take it all. “I got a submarine/You’ve got gasoline” – playful sexual imagery of the war between the sexes or a comment on the relationship between Western militarism and the oil rich Middle East?

Well, it doesn’t really matter because one way or the other, “I don’t want to talk about war between nations/Not right now.” One of the lessons of this album is that to everything there is a season; a time to be melancholy, a time to meditate, and a time to put on your sexy boots, realize your inherent beauty, and dance knowing that “Laughter is eternity/if joy is real.”

And here is the twist. How do we know if “Joy is real?” How do we enter eternity, the place where no line on the horizon means a world without end, a world with endless possibilities where forward momentum continually carries the soul and spirit onward? The struggle to answer those questions and then to deal with the consequences of the answers is a theme that is a continuation of the band’s previous exploration and expression of their own spirituality. They have found their answers, however, imperfect as they may seem at times, through Christianity, and so, their music and lyrics are bound to the discourse of that faith. Christian ideals float and pair with the secular in combinations unexpected and inspirational.

A perfect example of their ability to speak in duel discourses is “Magnificent.” Although the song never mentions Christ by name, and so could be interpreted to be about a person, it is also a psalm begging to be joyfully sung, to be proclaimed actually, by those who believe in the higher spirit of love that heals hurts, justifies souls, and unifies hearts.

There are several examples of this kind of “double-discoursed” song on the CD. One of the most obvious is “Unknown Caller” which could be read as a type of sinner’s prayer for the cellular age. It begins with the ambiguous phrase “Sunshine” that could be a homophonic play on “son shine,” if, that is, you read the rest of the song as a salvation story. There is the return to “the scene of the accident” where the repentant man reviews with great sorrow his current state after desperately trying to speed dial, to reconnect with anyone he’s had a relationship to previously, without a signal.

He receives a call to “Hear me, cease to speak that I may speak.” Then, the narrator receives the command lines “Force Quit and move to trash”- in Christian lingo, to repent and turn from sin. “Restart and re-boot yourself/You’re free to go” or exercise your free will and if you choose, be born again not forgetting to “Shout for joy, if you get the chance.” The last message is to “[type in your] password and enter here.” The password – the acceptance of the message – allows for a new relationship to occur, one of peace for the receiver and a promise of direction from the caller.

“I’ll Go Crazy if I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight” covers another theme familiar to Christians, the idea of pressing on in your spiritual journey. However, instead of the remorseful longing of still not finding what I’m looking for, this piece of “the sound” acknowledges the hard work of finding your way on the path, but also the joy in it as well. “Perfect love drives out all fear” – a line cribbed directly from scripture pairs with the declaration that it’s okay to appear ridiculous sometimes. It doesn’t take away from the journey or the connection to others on the path.

Here, ridiculous has a duel meaning. It could just be the right to appear silly, or in Bono’s case, the right to put on the trappings of a rock n’ roll star, but for certain Christian communities, it’s considered positive if the world “marks it strange” or thinks you are crazy or ridiculous in your faith. It demonstrates your commitment to living in an upside down kingdom where it is better to give than receive and to serve rather than be served. Like the verse in Hebrews which instructs believers to encourage each other until the day, or return, of the Lord, the song is one of joyful assurance that we will make it to the perfect light and that we’re not alone, even if sometimes the best you can hope for is to “squeeze out sparks of light” into the darkness.

Squeezing out sparks of light into darkness has been Bono’s mission, his vision, since the band first appeared in the spotlight decades ago, and of course, for the last few years, that vision has had a white hot focus on issues of disease and extreme poverty in Africa. It is in this context that “Moment of Surrender” becomes more than a song about surrender to love, to circumstance, or salvation; and yes, this marvelous song can be about any or all of those things. What it also captures is the epic struggle of not only having the faith to hear and believe, but also to act. “It’s not if I believe in love/But if love believes in me.” It’s about surrendering to the vision.

Bono has a vision. We know that because he shares it with everyone he comes in contact with. He also gets more backlash for it than one person should possibly be able to bear. This song gives us insight into what it takes to answer the call of the social prophet, and how difficult it is to stop worrying about appearing ridiculous, to stop worrying about the hypocritical money paradox that a wealthy man finds himself in when he begins to preach against poverty, and to stop worrying about the demands of celebrity. In the moments he surrenders to the vision, his desires, his money issues, his immediately recognizable persona, his visibility, all become moot. The only thing that matters is the vision.

Without that epiphany, none of the joy of the other songs is possible because Bono is always tied to the conflict inherent to who he is as performer – and who he is as a believer in a God who demands justice along with love and mercy. Without surrender, the believer is still bound by the demands of this world and its incessant need to categorize people and to set limits on vision and identity. The challenge is to see the line on the horizon, and then, go beyond it anyway. However, in order to achieve that victory, you have to surrender to what is beyond that line first.

It is important that there is more than one moment of surrender in this particular track, and that there are more moments of surrender, insight, and joy embedded into others on the CD. That repetition is vital because, as we are constantly reminded in this collection, “the sound” is complex and beastly in its ability to confuse, but it is also limitless in possibility and promise.