Review: U2 takes a shot to the heart

Geoff Carter

Monday, Nov. 19, 2001 | 8:18 a.m.

"This is a song about a rock band going back after their audience," said U2 vocalist Bono of the 1980 anthem "I Will Follow," during the band's bravura show Sunday night at the Thomas & Mack Center. And for a moment -- seriously -- I actually wondered which band he was talking about.

If I had forgotten U2's rootless, soulless 1997 album "Pop" -- and the bloated, all-filler-no-thriller "Pop Mart" tour that accompanied it -- I can hardly be faulted. When U2 released the amazing "All That You Can't Leave Behind" late last year, a lot of things were forgiven and forgotten.

Gone was U2's affection for Prodigy-style breakbeats. It shed the irony that compelled them to name an album "Pop" and a single "Discotheque." And most importantly, U2 remembered how it got where it was: The band did it by writing and performing songs you want to fold into your chest and keep.

U2's two-hour plus set at the T&M more than compensated for the band's last, somewhat disappointing show in 1997. ("We brought a spaceship mirror-ball lemon to Vegas and it just looked ordinary here," Bono quipped. He didn't need to mention the band's leaden manner that night, or the embarrassment of blowing a song so badly, it needed to start over from the beginning -- his apologetic tone said everything that needed to be said.) I haven't heard U2 as excited to do its job in the better part of a decade.

The set was rich with so many hits -- played back-to-back -- that one might have confused the genuine article with a tribute band. No sooner had The Edge's soaring guitar bursts faded from "I Will Follow" did the band rush into "Sunday Bloody Sunday" and "Stuck in a Moment That You Can't Get Out Of." Sounding completely energized and just this side of tough, U2 seemed determined to regulate the capacity crowd's breathing patterns. If the crowd had a moment to suck air, it was only because the band allowed it.

The old songs weren't the only way U2 re-established contact. A guitar player was picked from the audience to join the band on "People Get Ready," a classic U2 stunt; the young woman chosen seemed aware of this, donned her sunglasses to stand between Bono and The Edge, and held the song's last note in a beautiful arc. ("I admire that kinda confidence," said Bono, dumbstruck.) The lighting and video effects of previous tours were toned down; in fact, the band played part of the opening song, "Elevation," with the house lights up.

And it can still make the notes -- like nobody's business. Drummer Larry Mullen and bassist Adam Clayton remain one of the best rock rhythm sections ever. The Edge's playing grows more versatile every year, and he can now chunk out some impressive blues leads along with the ricky-ticky-ticky that made his name. Bono's voice has grown deeper -- deep enough that some of the older songs were taken down a key to meet him -- but his big-hearted roar is as affecting, and magnificent, as it's ever been.

It was a real joy to see U2 making the effort, and more than once I felt the excitement of the first time I saw the band perform back in 1985: during a transcendent playing of "Bad," through the gallop of "Where the Streets Have No Name," and most strongly, over the course of "New York," a tough but affecting dual ode to middle age and America's alpha city. "I hit an iceberg in my life/You know I'm still afloat," sang Bono, as a low spotlight and a transparent scrim appropriately cast his shadow some 25 feet tall.

And so the prodigals return. We tolerated U2's recent larger-than-life because we wanted to hear the band come alive one more time -- and when we finally did, we instantly forgot it had walked away in the first place.

They beckoned, and once again, we followed.