U2 and the Sonic Assault of the 90’s

The transformation of The Beatles in one decade was the blueprint by which other bands could follow to stay relevant.

In the 1960’s bands and pop music in general was a fickle thing. Here today, gone tomorrow. Even The Beatles in the early days didn’t hold out much hope of a long career. Lennon said when interviewed in the early 1960’s that he thought the band would last 5 years. Had they not evolved that might have been the case.

It’s no surprise that, for the most part, it’s the artists who constantly push themselves that have longevity.

David Bowie was a master of change — no doubt having learned from the Fab Four. Queen went from heavy rock, through funk, pop, opera and a myriad of other looks and styles, to remain as popular today as ever, 30 years after Freddie Mercury’s death.

Where am I going with this regarding U2? Well imagine a U2 in 1989 that didn’t declare they just had to go away and dream it all up again.

They’d done the Joshua Tree and immersed themselves in America. The follow up Rattle and Hum was more of the same. A film and album that in hindsight was probably the wrong move. The reception for Rattle and Hum, after the mind-blowing success of The Joshua Tree was decidedly lukewarm. U2 had discovered American music — America, of course knew all about it and the act of U2 giving it back to them just didn’t resonate for a lot of the fans and critics.

Rattle and Hum has some great material, God Part II, Desire, Hawkmoon 269, Angel of Harlem, All I Want Is You, but what it didn’t have was a cohesive feel. What did it want to be? It was neither a fully-fledged live album or studio album — it was instead a confused hybrid of the two.

There was a brick wall ahead and U2 were hurtling fast towards it. I remember at the time, as a huge fan, that maybe, just maybe one of my favorite bands had run its course.

After Bono’s declaration of future change, I saw hope.

I was a Bowie, Queen and Beatle fan. These artists had kept the momentum by keeping things fresh when the need arose. Could U2 do the same?

My fellow U2 fans and I would debate at the time. We came to the conclusion that it was possible.

9 years earlier I’d bought Boy on release and I was hooked. I saw U2 live at the Nottingham Boat club for the first time that year too. What an intimate, sweaty, energy filled gig it was. But no way could I have foreseen the rise to being probably the biggest band in the world by 1987 with the Joshua Tree album and tour.

They were part of the new wave that was happening at the time. They exploded with post punk energy. I was a few years younger than the band, but still the music resonated.

The first three albums did elicit small incremental change. Then in conversation with my fellow fans we began to discuss The Unforgettable Fire. The introduction of Brian Eno was a shakeup and did elicit a willingness to push the boundaries.

Eno’s presence is felt all over The Unforgettable Fire. Of particular note is the instrumental 4th of July. Eno overheard Adam Clayton riffing on a few bass ideas before The Edge joined in. Unbeknown to both of them, Eno decided to record the raw noodling. Eno added some ambience on top and rush mastered it, thereby giving the group no chance for overdubs.

Eno was later responsible for the love it or hate it track, Elvis Presley and America, with a vocal entirely improvised by Bono. Whether one deems this particular adventure successful or not, there’s no denying that this new-found expression and freedom was to bear fruit in the following decade. First, U2 would have to get its American obsession out of the way with The Joshua Tree and Rattle and Hum.

For fans like me the preceding years were an agonizing wait. This was a band I’d followed since 1980, eleven long years before. My friends and I waited with baited breath and a nervousness that was palpable. Would they still have it?

Coming off of the most successful album to date — would they really throw all caution to the wind and give us wholesale change?

The critical spotlight would soon be on them!

1991 came and the stories of Berlin and the previous year’s recording flooded in. I’m a massive Bowie fan and the thought of U2 in the same ballroom at Hansa that Heroes was recorded in filled me with wonder.

We all sensed something extraordinary was about to happen. I didn’t know how my friends and I knew that, but Berlin, Hansa, Bowie and Eno, were all part of our lexicon of love — for the music, and the art that had already sound tracked our lives. Now, U2 had been in that space.

November came and the 7th U2 album was upon us. I was at the record shop like Superman on speed. I went before my friends because this was for me.

I wanted to experience this in my room, a solitary listener, to assimilate the new sounds within. The needle smoothed its way down to the vinyl. A gentle crackle…then — woah — damn the record was defective. Then I realized this was the intro to Zoo Station. It was meant to sound like that. U2 had my attention.

I sank back onto my bed, contemplating the ride before me. The sonic assault had begun and I realized I was witnessing something that would for me personally eclipse even The Joshua Tree.

As the last strains of Love is Blindness were moving to silence. I sat there for what seemed like an age, perusing the fantastic cover artwork and trying to process what I would soon be calling a masterpiece.

The greatest U2 decade was here and Zoo TV was just around the corner.