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People: Part 1 - Bono's World
February 22, 2002
From People:
March 4, 2002 issue
Bono's World
Part rocker, part policy wonk, U2's singer calls himself 'the thinking
man's Perry Como'
Tom Gliatto, Eileen Finan in Dublin, Pete Norman in London, Rachel
Felder in New York City, Lyndon Stambler in Los Angeles and Jen
Chaney in Washington, D.C.
Bono, lead singer of the Irish supergroup U2, is at Finnegan's, a pub just up the road from his white Georgian home in Killiney, south of Dublin. Sipping a pint of Guinness, he is explaining how a person can be nominated for eight Grammys, attend a global economic conference with Bill Gates, move the irascible Sen. Jesse Helms to tears and still feel--especially when in Dublin--like an Everyman. You just have to be Irish.
"We are taught not to court success here," says Bono. "There's an old story about an American and an Irishman looking up at a mansion. The American looks at it and says, 'One day I'm going to live in that place.'The Irishman looks at it and says, 'One day I'm going to get the bastard
who lives in that place.'" Others are less reticent about giving Bono his due. The 41-year-old singer, along with guitarist the Edge, 40, drummer Larry Mullen, 40, and bassist Adam Clayton, 41,are "unquestionably the greatest rock band in the world at the moment," says their friend and fellow rocker Elvis Costello. This year's Grammy Awards, which will be handed out in L.A. Feb. 27, will likely second that. U2's eight
nominations include the biggies: record of the year ("Walk On"), album (All That You Can't Leave Behind) and song ("Stuck in a Moment You Can't Get Out Of"). "Artistically," says Bono, who already has 10 Grammys with U2, "it's been my best year ever."
Last year, too, there was more to U2 than music. Many found the band's keening, anthemic sound an effective balm in the aftermath of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks; some of the songs on All That You Can't Leave Behind, released in October 2000, even seemed eerily prescient. (One, "Kite," begins, "Something is about to give/I can feel it coming.") After U2 performed Sept. 21 on the nationally televised memorial concert America: A Tribute to Heroes, they returned to their sold-out concert tour, where Bono cradled the flag and the names of the Sept. 11 dead were projected on a massive screen. When U2 sang "Where the Streets Have No Name" at the Super Bowl Feb. 3, "it was like taking a big bite out of a giant apple pie," Bono says. "To feel the full embrace of America was the pinnacle."
It had been an unusual week, to say the least. Two days before the halftime show, Bono appeared at the World Economic Forum in Manhattan, where he sat on panels with South African Archbishop Desmond Tutu and U.S.
Treasury Secretary Paul O'Neill. An activist for nearly as long as he has been a performer, Bono has earned a reputation as a detail-oriented wonk who stays with a cause--be it Third World debt relief or aid for AIDS-ravaged Africa--for the long haul. At the forum, the singer self-deprecatingly
introduced himself as "the poor man's James Joyce or the thinking man's Perry Como." But he's no dilettante, not "some leprechaun," says O'Neill, who plans to visit Africa with Bono later this year. "He's a lot more than that." Says Sen. Patrick Leahy (D-Vt.): "A lot of celebrities lend their names to
something for the moment. But Bono cares." Adds a friend, producer Hal Willner: "It's amazing that Bono can read and understand all those economics books."
Still, John Maynard Keynes never had the option of indulging in a little rock-star swagger to make a point. Seldom without his trademark fly-eyed sunglasses, Bono startled conference attendees with a foul-mouthed
anticapitalist plea. Nor is Bono always patient. "He will knock down a lazy thought," says the band's manager, Paul McGuinness, "whether it is a bad political argument or a mundane lyric."
Yet even as he meets with heads of state, including Pope John Paul II, he remains on solid and equal footing with his bandmates, all friends since high school. "They call it the politburo," says Bono's friend, rocker Bob Geldof, who drafted Bono into famine relief with the all-star benefit single
"Do They Know It's Christmas?" in 1984. "They often say no to him, and he defers."
Managing his personal life also can require delicate negotiating. He made it home in the midst of the band's yearlong, 109-concert Elevation tour in May, when his wife of 20 years, Ali, 40, gave birth to their son John. Even before the new baby, Ali--who also has two daughters, Jordan, 12, and Eve, 10, and another son, Eli, 2, with Bono--preferred to be left behind in Killiney (their home for 13 years) and away from the media scrum when U2 hit the road. Although she has had her own causes, including an Irish charity to help children of Chernobyl, "she doesn't want to be part of any entourage," says Bono. "But I spend a lot of time with my kids--more than most other dads. I took my girls to California on tour. I took Eli to Venice." Bono isn't likely to have to worry about making time for any more deliveries: Ali recently told the Irish Independent, "We are very happy [but] definitely no more kids--we are overrun as it is."
February 22, 2002
From People:
March 4, 2002 issue
Bono's World
Part rocker, part policy wonk, U2's singer calls himself 'the thinking
man's Perry Como'
Tom Gliatto, Eileen Finan in Dublin, Pete Norman in London, Rachel
Felder in New York City, Lyndon Stambler in Los Angeles and Jen
Chaney in Washington, D.C.
Bono, lead singer of the Irish supergroup U2, is at Finnegan's, a pub just up the road from his white Georgian home in Killiney, south of Dublin. Sipping a pint of Guinness, he is explaining how a person can be nominated for eight Grammys, attend a global economic conference with Bill Gates, move the irascible Sen. Jesse Helms to tears and still feel--especially when in Dublin--like an Everyman. You just have to be Irish.
"We are taught not to court success here," says Bono. "There's an old story about an American and an Irishman looking up at a mansion. The American looks at it and says, 'One day I'm going to live in that place.'The Irishman looks at it and says, 'One day I'm going to get the bastard
who lives in that place.'" Others are less reticent about giving Bono his due. The 41-year-old singer, along with guitarist the Edge, 40, drummer Larry Mullen, 40, and bassist Adam Clayton, 41,are "unquestionably the greatest rock band in the world at the moment," says their friend and fellow rocker Elvis Costello. This year's Grammy Awards, which will be handed out in L.A. Feb. 27, will likely second that. U2's eight
nominations include the biggies: record of the year ("Walk On"), album (All That You Can't Leave Behind) and song ("Stuck in a Moment You Can't Get Out Of"). "Artistically," says Bono, who already has 10 Grammys with U2, "it's been my best year ever."
Last year, too, there was more to U2 than music. Many found the band's keening, anthemic sound an effective balm in the aftermath of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks; some of the songs on All That You Can't Leave Behind, released in October 2000, even seemed eerily prescient. (One, "Kite," begins, "Something is about to give/I can feel it coming.") After U2 performed Sept. 21 on the nationally televised memorial concert America: A Tribute to Heroes, they returned to their sold-out concert tour, where Bono cradled the flag and the names of the Sept. 11 dead were projected on a massive screen. When U2 sang "Where the Streets Have No Name" at the Super Bowl Feb. 3, "it was like taking a big bite out of a giant apple pie," Bono says. "To feel the full embrace of America was the pinnacle."
It had been an unusual week, to say the least. Two days before the halftime show, Bono appeared at the World Economic Forum in Manhattan, where he sat on panels with South African Archbishop Desmond Tutu and U.S.
Treasury Secretary Paul O'Neill. An activist for nearly as long as he has been a performer, Bono has earned a reputation as a detail-oriented wonk who stays with a cause--be it Third World debt relief or aid for AIDS-ravaged Africa--for the long haul. At the forum, the singer self-deprecatingly
introduced himself as "the poor man's James Joyce or the thinking man's Perry Como." But he's no dilettante, not "some leprechaun," says O'Neill, who plans to visit Africa with Bono later this year. "He's a lot more than that." Says Sen. Patrick Leahy (D-Vt.): "A lot of celebrities lend their names to
something for the moment. But Bono cares." Adds a friend, producer Hal Willner: "It's amazing that Bono can read and understand all those economics books."
Still, John Maynard Keynes never had the option of indulging in a little rock-star swagger to make a point. Seldom without his trademark fly-eyed sunglasses, Bono startled conference attendees with a foul-mouthed
anticapitalist plea. Nor is Bono always patient. "He will knock down a lazy thought," says the band's manager, Paul McGuinness, "whether it is a bad political argument or a mundane lyric."
Yet even as he meets with heads of state, including Pope John Paul II, he remains on solid and equal footing with his bandmates, all friends since high school. "They call it the politburo," says Bono's friend, rocker Bob Geldof, who drafted Bono into famine relief with the all-star benefit single
"Do They Know It's Christmas?" in 1984. "They often say no to him, and he defers."
Managing his personal life also can require delicate negotiating. He made it home in the midst of the band's yearlong, 109-concert Elevation tour in May, when his wife of 20 years, Ali, 40, gave birth to their son John. Even before the new baby, Ali--who also has two daughters, Jordan, 12, and Eve, 10, and another son, Eli, 2, with Bono--preferred to be left behind in Killiney (their home for 13 years) and away from the media scrum when U2 hit the road. Although she has had her own causes, including an Irish charity to help children of Chernobyl, "she doesn't want to be part of any entourage," says Bono. "But I spend a lot of time with my kids--more than most other dads. I took my girls to California on tour. I took Eli to Venice." Bono isn't likely to have to worry about making time for any more deliveries: Ali recently told the Irish Independent, "We are very happy [but] definitely no more kids--we are overrun as it is."