HelloAngel
ONE love, blood, life
U2 fans send out a message by using their cell phones
By Eric Gwinn
Wherever there's a U2 concert, at 10:30 p.m. the transformation happens.
Bono urges fans in the arena to pull out their cell phones and hold them aloft, just as concertgoers used to raise flaming cigarette lighters decades ago.
Last week for four shows, it was Chicago's turn.
"From Martin Luther King's America to Nelson Mandela's Africa, the push for equality goes on," Bono said May 12 as 10:30 neared. These days, the U2 frontman delivers sermons for his One Campaign. Its goal is to end AIDS, extreme poverty and the debt load the poorest countries owe to the richest. At each venue on U2's current tour, Bono asks fans to use their cell phones to join One Campaign. "We're going to make this place a Christmas tree," Bono yelled into his mic.
Standing in United Center on May 12 was like standing in a moonlit field, gazing at a velvet canvas of stars. About a quarter to a third of the 24,000 U2 fans raised their phones. The digital blue-white glow of their display screens couldn't match the warmth of 6,000 or more Bic lighters. But more people carry cell phones than lighters these days.
Then came the moment that separated the men from the boys, the girls from the women. Above the stage, the phrase, "Text your name to UNITE [86483]."
Text as a verb?
Many younger people in the audience knew that meant "On your phone, create a text message, type in your name, and type 8-6-4-8-3 on the dial pad and hit the send key." Some older people in the audience were probably baffled that "text" was being used as a verb.
America hasn't caught up with Europe and Asia when it comes to text-messaging. There are no classes on sending short messages from your phone to a friend's phone. Young people, in particular, view cell phones as toys and play around with them until they learn how to text, or they're clued in by word of mouth.
The question for me was, at a concert by U2, a band whose hits span a generation, would the cryptic message on the jumbo board befuddle some people in the audience?
Would some people not participate because they were wary about who would receive their name and cell phone number and about how that information would be used?
Would people spend more time fumbling with their phones than absorbing the concert?
Would all 24,000 fans text in, connecting themselves to a rock star, his cause and the thousands of strangers who sincerely want to change the world?
Their names in lights
About 45 seconds after Bono's request, a few names crawled across the big screen. Some fans cheered and the audience rustled with anticipation -- it looked as if names sent to UNITE would turn up in lights. But just like that, it was over. Thirty-two names, by my count. It seemed unlikely that out of an audience of 24,000, only 32 people knew how to text.
Turns out, I was right. There were 1,980 names text messaged to UNITE that evening, representatives of Sun Microsystems told me after the concert. At every stop on U2's tour, the networking company is charged with collecting the text-messaged names.
The team responsible for the show's graphics chose only 32 of the names to stream across the screen, apparently not wanting to distract from the rest of the concert.
If anyone was disappointed his or her name didn't make the screen, all was forgotten as soon as U2 launched into its next song. Thousands of arms -- now cell phone-less -- stretched skyward like rows of bouncing exclamation points.
I couldn't help thinking about what I'd just seen: thousands of people digitizing the time-honored flame tribute, bonding by text message -- even though they had different wireless carriers -- and celebrating a band, a rock star and his message.
Bono used a similar technique during the Canadian part of his tour, urging fans at the concert to phone the prime minister over his refusal to set aside a fraction of that nation's gross domestic product to fund debt relief.
To read the remainder of the article, please visit the Chicago Tribune website.
By Eric Gwinn
Wherever there's a U2 concert, at 10:30 p.m. the transformation happens.
Bono urges fans in the arena to pull out their cell phones and hold them aloft, just as concertgoers used to raise flaming cigarette lighters decades ago.
Last week for four shows, it was Chicago's turn.
"From Martin Luther King's America to Nelson Mandela's Africa, the push for equality goes on," Bono said May 12 as 10:30 neared. These days, the U2 frontman delivers sermons for his One Campaign. Its goal is to end AIDS, extreme poverty and the debt load the poorest countries owe to the richest. At each venue on U2's current tour, Bono asks fans to use their cell phones to join One Campaign. "We're going to make this place a Christmas tree," Bono yelled into his mic.
Standing in United Center on May 12 was like standing in a moonlit field, gazing at a velvet canvas of stars. About a quarter to a third of the 24,000 U2 fans raised their phones. The digital blue-white glow of their display screens couldn't match the warmth of 6,000 or more Bic lighters. But more people carry cell phones than lighters these days.
Then came the moment that separated the men from the boys, the girls from the women. Above the stage, the phrase, "Text your name to UNITE [86483]."
Text as a verb?
Many younger people in the audience knew that meant "On your phone, create a text message, type in your name, and type 8-6-4-8-3 on the dial pad and hit the send key." Some older people in the audience were probably baffled that "text" was being used as a verb.
America hasn't caught up with Europe and Asia when it comes to text-messaging. There are no classes on sending short messages from your phone to a friend's phone. Young people, in particular, view cell phones as toys and play around with them until they learn how to text, or they're clued in by word of mouth.
The question for me was, at a concert by U2, a band whose hits span a generation, would the cryptic message on the jumbo board befuddle some people in the audience?
Would some people not participate because they were wary about who would receive their name and cell phone number and about how that information would be used?
Would people spend more time fumbling with their phones than absorbing the concert?
Would all 24,000 fans text in, connecting themselves to a rock star, his cause and the thousands of strangers who sincerely want to change the world?
Their names in lights
About 45 seconds after Bono's request, a few names crawled across the big screen. Some fans cheered and the audience rustled with anticipation -- it looked as if names sent to UNITE would turn up in lights. But just like that, it was over. Thirty-two names, by my count. It seemed unlikely that out of an audience of 24,000, only 32 people knew how to text.
Turns out, I was right. There were 1,980 names text messaged to UNITE that evening, representatives of Sun Microsystems told me after the concert. At every stop on U2's tour, the networking company is charged with collecting the text-messaged names.
The team responsible for the show's graphics chose only 32 of the names to stream across the screen, apparently not wanting to distract from the rest of the concert.
If anyone was disappointed his or her name didn't make the screen, all was forgotten as soon as U2 launched into its next song. Thousands of arms -- now cell phone-less -- stretched skyward like rows of bouncing exclamation points.
I couldn't help thinking about what I'd just seen: thousands of people digitizing the time-honored flame tribute, bonding by text message -- even though they had different wireless carriers -- and celebrating a band, a rock star and his message.
Bono used a similar technique during the Canadian part of his tour, urging fans at the concert to phone the prime minister over his refusal to set aside a fraction of that nation's gross domestic product to fund debt relief.
To read the remainder of the article, please visit the Chicago Tribune website.
Celebrian
