HelloAngel
ONE love, blood, life
By Carrie Alison, Chief Editor
2004.11
This column has had so many stops and starts over the past couple months I’m almost embarrassed to say just how many.
I’ve written installments on how I became a U2 fan, why I became a U2 fan, my ensnarement in the U2 iPod/iTunes drama, my opinion the U2 iPod/iTunes drama, how I want the new album to be and now, finally, how the album really is.
To be honest, I haven’t listened to U2 on a regular basis since right after the release of “All That You Can’t Leave Behind.” Yes, you read that right. Sure, I trekked all over tarnation to attend shows on the Elevation Tour. I bought all the T-shirts. I basked in the sun of an active U2. I even made some very good friends along the way standing in those all-day-long general admission lines.
But then life moved on, and so did I. I became enthralled with the undeniable kinetic energy of The Strokes, Interpol and The White Stripes. I partied with The Raveonettes in an Ybor City bar for a couple hours one night. I fell in love with the guitar stomp of Jack White, the dive bar swagger of Julian Casablancas and the addictive synth-rock brilliance of The Killers. I became a born-again student of Leonard Cohen. I wrote some wine-soaked poetry and mulled over the details of my first novel. I quietly put away my U2 memorabilia. I took my “Achtung Baby” subway poster down and put a “Trainspotting” poster in its place. I forgot about my U2 fan club membership and concentrated on my Strokes fan club membership instead. I decided to move to New York City early next year to pursue my writing career. I began to question my U2 fandom and what U2 meant to me.
If you want the whole truth, here it is—I haven’t been truly touched by a U2 album since “Achtung Baby” and “Zooropa.” Maybe it’s because those two albums made me a fan, or perhaps because I got lost in the glittery garishness of “Pop” or what I perceived as the dad-rock feel of “All That You Can’t Leave Behind.” I couldn’t see my life or myself in most of those songs and longed for the dark passion of the U2 of the ‘80s and early ‘90s.
Then the “Bomb” dropped.
First it took the incarnation of an expertly crafted marketing campaign including a loud-and-proud “Vertigo” and iTunes TV commercial, and a special edition black and red iPod. How timely, cute and tech-savvy, and destined to appeal to potentially new and younger fans for whom the iPod has become the new Game Boy. I questioned my devotion, despite marveling at the genius of it all.
Then, the CD leaked online and forced me to be tough. I hadn’t downloaded music online since the Sean Fanning-era of Napster and even then I only “stole” ‘80s one-hit-wonder songs like Taco’s “Puttin’ on the Ritz” and maybe a live version of “Bad” here and there. Suffice it to say, I never did crack and download “How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb,” nor did I stream it when U2.com, VH1.com, MTV.com and NME.com put it up, not because I was still bent on being tough, but because my computer’s sound card was broken.
On November 20th, U2 gave a bravura performance on “Saturday Night Live” that left even the cast in tears and on their feet jumping for joy. I, too, applauded the show but not necessarily because the performance left me speechless, but because I felt U2 was finally getting in touch with me—a 20-something long-term fan who has given them hundreds of dollars and thousands of hours of free time in my lifetime.
The following Monday found U2 filming the music video for the album’s second single “All Because of You” on the back of a flatbed truck around New York City, a perfect way to drum up attention for the band and the new album all in one public move. This action left me scratching my head as I wondered why the self-proclaimed “biggest band in the world” would need to scream so loud to get attention for its new album when its placement in the upper pantheon of music virtually guarantees some sort of big attention. As exciting and bold as it is to take rock and roll to the mean streets, it begs so many questions: Why indeed do U2 need to work so hard to garner the attention it already has? U2’s extremely loyal fan base is millions upon millions strong—what is the band stumping for? Who is U2 trying to reach? Linkin Park fans are probably not listening, and if they are, it’s only until the next song comes on the radio. The Short Attention Span Theatre that is modern rock radio anoints a new hero every month; this month it’s Jimmy Eat World, next month it could be The Futureheads (hopefully).
So I waited until November 23rd and happily bought the collector’s edition of the album from Circuit City.
I’m not going to put up a front and say the album bowled me over on the first playback. Knowing the fan favorites from the album in the back of my mind as I listened created an interference I didn’t count on: Why didn’t I love “Miracle Drug” and “Original of the Species” like everyone else? Why were "One Step Closer" and “Fast Cars” my favorites? Why was my mind drifting everywhere else but to the newest musical accomplishments from U2? Why couldn’t I latch on immediately like everyone else seemed to? Had I truly and irrevocably moved on and not noticed?
The second listen calmed me down, as I’m sure future plays will. Even if the “Bomb” isn’t “the bomb” to me right now, U2 is and will always be more important to me than any album it puts out. The band has transcended music and lyrics for me by becoming a constant and beloved companion in my life, and despite how my feelings for U2's music may change over the years, that still says a lot.
Carrie Alison can be reached at carrie@interference.com
2004.11
This column has had so many stops and starts over the past couple months I’m almost embarrassed to say just how many.
I’ve written installments on how I became a U2 fan, why I became a U2 fan, my ensnarement in the U2 iPod/iTunes drama, my opinion the U2 iPod/iTunes drama, how I want the new album to be and now, finally, how the album really is.
To be honest, I haven’t listened to U2 on a regular basis since right after the release of “All That You Can’t Leave Behind.” Yes, you read that right. Sure, I trekked all over tarnation to attend shows on the Elevation Tour. I bought all the T-shirts. I basked in the sun of an active U2. I even made some very good friends along the way standing in those all-day-long general admission lines.
But then life moved on, and so did I. I became enthralled with the undeniable kinetic energy of The Strokes, Interpol and The White Stripes. I partied with The Raveonettes in an Ybor City bar for a couple hours one night. I fell in love with the guitar stomp of Jack White, the dive bar swagger of Julian Casablancas and the addictive synth-rock brilliance of The Killers. I became a born-again student of Leonard Cohen. I wrote some wine-soaked poetry and mulled over the details of my first novel. I quietly put away my U2 memorabilia. I took my “Achtung Baby” subway poster down and put a “Trainspotting” poster in its place. I forgot about my U2 fan club membership and concentrated on my Strokes fan club membership instead. I decided to move to New York City early next year to pursue my writing career. I began to question my U2 fandom and what U2 meant to me.
If you want the whole truth, here it is—I haven’t been truly touched by a U2 album since “Achtung Baby” and “Zooropa.” Maybe it’s because those two albums made me a fan, or perhaps because I got lost in the glittery garishness of “Pop” or what I perceived as the dad-rock feel of “All That You Can’t Leave Behind.” I couldn’t see my life or myself in most of those songs and longed for the dark passion of the U2 of the ‘80s and early ‘90s.
Then the “Bomb” dropped.
First it took the incarnation of an expertly crafted marketing campaign including a loud-and-proud “Vertigo” and iTunes TV commercial, and a special edition black and red iPod. How timely, cute and tech-savvy, and destined to appeal to potentially new and younger fans for whom the iPod has become the new Game Boy. I questioned my devotion, despite marveling at the genius of it all.
Then, the CD leaked online and forced me to be tough. I hadn’t downloaded music online since the Sean Fanning-era of Napster and even then I only “stole” ‘80s one-hit-wonder songs like Taco’s “Puttin’ on the Ritz” and maybe a live version of “Bad” here and there. Suffice it to say, I never did crack and download “How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb,” nor did I stream it when U2.com, VH1.com, MTV.com and NME.com put it up, not because I was still bent on being tough, but because my computer’s sound card was broken.
On November 20th, U2 gave a bravura performance on “Saturday Night Live” that left even the cast in tears and on their feet jumping for joy. I, too, applauded the show but not necessarily because the performance left me speechless, but because I felt U2 was finally getting in touch with me—a 20-something long-term fan who has given them hundreds of dollars and thousands of hours of free time in my lifetime.
The following Monday found U2 filming the music video for the album’s second single “All Because of You” on the back of a flatbed truck around New York City, a perfect way to drum up attention for the band and the new album all in one public move. This action left me scratching my head as I wondered why the self-proclaimed “biggest band in the world” would need to scream so loud to get attention for its new album when its placement in the upper pantheon of music virtually guarantees some sort of big attention. As exciting and bold as it is to take rock and roll to the mean streets, it begs so many questions: Why indeed do U2 need to work so hard to garner the attention it already has? U2’s extremely loyal fan base is millions upon millions strong—what is the band stumping for? Who is U2 trying to reach? Linkin Park fans are probably not listening, and if they are, it’s only until the next song comes on the radio. The Short Attention Span Theatre that is modern rock radio anoints a new hero every month; this month it’s Jimmy Eat World, next month it could be The Futureheads (hopefully).
So I waited until November 23rd and happily bought the collector’s edition of the album from Circuit City.
I’m not going to put up a front and say the album bowled me over on the first playback. Knowing the fan favorites from the album in the back of my mind as I listened created an interference I didn’t count on: Why didn’t I love “Miracle Drug” and “Original of the Species” like everyone else? Why were "One Step Closer" and “Fast Cars” my favorites? Why was my mind drifting everywhere else but to the newest musical accomplishments from U2? Why couldn’t I latch on immediately like everyone else seemed to? Had I truly and irrevocably moved on and not noticed?
The second listen calmed me down, as I’m sure future plays will. Even if the “Bomb” isn’t “the bomb” to me right now, U2 is and will always be more important to me than any album it puts out. The band has transcended music and lyrics for me by becoming a constant and beloved companion in my life, and despite how my feelings for U2's music may change over the years, that still says a lot.
Carrie Alison can be reached at carrie@interference.com
