dsmith2904
ONE love, blood, life
By Robyn Parrish
2005.11
As the Vertigo Tour nears its inevitable end, many of us mega-fans have already seen at least one live performance and read countless concert reviews and set lists, so I thought I'd highlight some of the more unique, special moments that stood out at Tuesday's show at the Arena in Oakland.
First, I will say that my usual pre-U2 concert excitement and anxiety was not there this time. Perhaps, I thought this was because it would be my third time seeing the band this year or, perhaps, because my personal life has just become so busy but regardless of the reason, I didn't have the usual symptoms of insomnia or butterflies in the stomach before the event.
U2 opened its show with the ubiquitous "City of Blinding Lights," in all its beaded-curtained, confetti-fluttering glory. Unfortunately, for my sister and I, this song was marred by the sweaty, drunken doofus in the seat in front of us. As "Vertigo" began, Prince Charming kept flailing his arms around, poking us in the stomach and giving us a sample of just what an obnoxious distraction he was planning to be. We, along with some understanding neighbors, told him to keep his hands to himself and he quieted down a bit.
Once the doofus was a little more settled, I was able to finally focus on our four Irish boys. There they were in the flesh (we had pretty close, Edge-side seats), looking so familiar and singing the familiar songs. That's when it occurred to me the real reason for my lack of pre-concert jitters: U2 was no longer a band I'd idolized and stargazed about like I did in the '80s. After many years of following the band and its music, visiting its home turf in Dublin, and actually meeting Bono and The Edge at a chance encounter last year, U2 now seems like old friends. Really famous, talented, world-saving old friends.
I had the impression the crowd this felt this way as well. There was no hysteria, no particular emotional peaks throughout the evening, but an overall fondness and respect that is obviously mutual between band and audience.
The highlights for me came during the unexpected moments, unique to our night. During "Sunday Bloody Sunday," Bono passed the microphone to a schoolgirl and had her sing, "No more," repeatedly, at increasing decibels. Her pre-pubescent voice was a disarming squeak in the Coliseum, but we got the impression that U2's message is being spread to the next generation. Bono also refereed to Glide Memorial Church in San Francisco, as he often does when playing a local gig and the band broke into "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For," which I personally hadn't seen the band play live in over a decade. Later, the band also played the first verse of the rare gem "One Tree Hill," in honor of "Laura," whoever she is. At another interval, Bono told the story of how Edge appeared in the north side of Dublin one day, in the mid-1970s, emerging from a space ship and claiming to be from the future. When Bono asked him what the future was like, Edge replied, "It's better."
Other surprises included a beautiful rendition of "Miss Sarajevo" in which Bono unwaveringly took on Luciano Pavarotti's vocal, and his many wardrobe changes throughout the night. Bono even sported the old cop's hat he had worn during the ZooTV days for a lackluster "Zoo Station" and "The Fly" in the first encore. My sister and I also couldn't help but laugh at the numerous men—grown men—in the audience who were playing air guitar. Again, I think this comes the feeling of familiarity with this band, of people being able to let their guards down and capturing their own memories of years gone by.
Not surprisingly, the band was as tight and energetic as ever. We witnessed Edge jumping up and down quite a lot, as though he were genuinely giddy to be there. And even the usually stoic Adam Clayton maintained a wide grin on his face all evening. Larry Mullen Jr., as usual, was the last man standing during the ultimate U2 closer, "40." As each member left the stage one by one, Larry remained to play a drum solo, a tribute to him for having posted that flyer on the Mount Temple School notice board so many years ago. We salute you, old buddy.
2005.11
As the Vertigo Tour nears its inevitable end, many of us mega-fans have already seen at least one live performance and read countless concert reviews and set lists, so I thought I'd highlight some of the more unique, special moments that stood out at Tuesday's show at the Arena in Oakland.
First, I will say that my usual pre-U2 concert excitement and anxiety was not there this time. Perhaps, I thought this was because it would be my third time seeing the band this year or, perhaps, because my personal life has just become so busy but regardless of the reason, I didn't have the usual symptoms of insomnia or butterflies in the stomach before the event.
U2 opened its show with the ubiquitous "City of Blinding Lights," in all its beaded-curtained, confetti-fluttering glory. Unfortunately, for my sister and I, this song was marred by the sweaty, drunken doofus in the seat in front of us. As "Vertigo" began, Prince Charming kept flailing his arms around, poking us in the stomach and giving us a sample of just what an obnoxious distraction he was planning to be. We, along with some understanding neighbors, told him to keep his hands to himself and he quieted down a bit.
Once the doofus was a little more settled, I was able to finally focus on our four Irish boys. There they were in the flesh (we had pretty close, Edge-side seats), looking so familiar and singing the familiar songs. That's when it occurred to me the real reason for my lack of pre-concert jitters: U2 was no longer a band I'd idolized and stargazed about like I did in the '80s. After many years of following the band and its music, visiting its home turf in Dublin, and actually meeting Bono and The Edge at a chance encounter last year, U2 now seems like old friends. Really famous, talented, world-saving old friends.
I had the impression the crowd this felt this way as well. There was no hysteria, no particular emotional peaks throughout the evening, but an overall fondness and respect that is obviously mutual between band and audience.
The highlights for me came during the unexpected moments, unique to our night. During "Sunday Bloody Sunday," Bono passed the microphone to a schoolgirl and had her sing, "No more," repeatedly, at increasing decibels. Her pre-pubescent voice was a disarming squeak in the Coliseum, but we got the impression that U2's message is being spread to the next generation. Bono also refereed to Glide Memorial Church in San Francisco, as he often does when playing a local gig and the band broke into "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For," which I personally hadn't seen the band play live in over a decade. Later, the band also played the first verse of the rare gem "One Tree Hill," in honor of "Laura," whoever she is. At another interval, Bono told the story of how Edge appeared in the north side of Dublin one day, in the mid-1970s, emerging from a space ship and claiming to be from the future. When Bono asked him what the future was like, Edge replied, "It's better."
Other surprises included a beautiful rendition of "Miss Sarajevo" in which Bono unwaveringly took on Luciano Pavarotti's vocal, and his many wardrobe changes throughout the night. Bono even sported the old cop's hat he had worn during the ZooTV days for a lackluster "Zoo Station" and "The Fly" in the first encore. My sister and I also couldn't help but laugh at the numerous men—grown men—in the audience who were playing air guitar. Again, I think this comes the feeling of familiarity with this band, of people being able to let their guards down and capturing their own memories of years gone by.
Not surprisingly, the band was as tight and energetic as ever. We witnessed Edge jumping up and down quite a lot, as though he were genuinely giddy to be there. And even the usually stoic Adam Clayton maintained a wide grin on his face all evening. Larry Mullen Jr., as usual, was the last man standing during the ultimate U2 closer, "40." As each member left the stage one by one, Larry remained to play a drum solo, a tribute to him for having posted that flyer on the Mount Temple School notice board so many years ago. We salute you, old buddy.
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