Sometimes we have to stand somewhere new in order to see an old familiar image in a different way.
I noticed this one day as I looked into a mirror while wearing my shirt with the No Line On The Horizon logo. I've loved the image of "U2" with the equal sign since the first time I saw it. It's a very powerful symbol. But seeing the flipped image along with my reflection means so much more now.
Bono has been fond of using the "no them, only us" theme on the I+E tour. He often says something about the ease of identifying enemies in youth, a time when "them" and "us" are tangible categories. Not so simple in midlife when we learn that we must "Choose your enemies carefully 'cause they will define you."
Years ago, U2 started singing about this idea at the end of "One," a practice they continue. But more than just a casual or fleeting notion on this tour, they make it a central focus on a nightly basis while singing "Invisible." As the "wall" is dismantled, the message is nothing short of provocative, a hinge-point for the entire show. I think "Invisible" is one of the most important songs U2 has ever written--I comment in depth on the song here in part one of a blog post, part two, and in a review of The Million Dollar Hotelfor atU2.com.
So this "reflection" is literally a mirror image, revealing both the power of the band's name and a core purpose for its existence. U2, we find, is really "US".
(Note: the above graphic is my creation, but the original NLOTH photo is from the artist Hiroshi Sugimoto.)
While U2’s seasonal metaphor has always intrigued me, I’m more awed now by the essence of “October” than I ever have been. In an article for atU2.com four years ago, on the 30th anniversary of U2’s second record, I wrote,
I think that's why I'm drawn to the album October, and especially the song of the same title. "October" is a song of contradictions; it's a parable of the temporal and the eternal, of the unstable and the unchangeable.
I’m especially thrilled that the song has found life, if not in a rather macabre and solemn subject matter, once again on the I+E tour. The piece was performed a few times while the band toured North America, but on the European leg, it’s become a central hub for the second half of the concert.
First, a bit of history helps me understand the context. Dublin was a rough place in the late ’70s and early ’80s. Overcrowded housing projects, rampant heroin addiction and raging unemployment became the city’s defining qualities. Yet, still in their teens, U2 set out to be a voice of optimism, challenging the malaise of the day and offering something transcendent in their music.
In a video interview (see below) from a concert in Hattem, Netherlands, in 1982, U2 were asked what the meaning of October was. "October is an image," said Bono. He continued:
We've been through the '60s, we've been through a time where things were in full bloom. We had fridges and cars, and we sent people to the moon. Everybody thought how great mankind was. And now, as you go through the '70s and the '80s, it's a colder time of year; it's after the harvest, the trees are stripped bare and you can see things. We've finally realized, maybe we weren't so smart after all, now that there's millions of unemployed people, now that we've used the technology that we've been blessed with to build bombs for war machines. October is an ominous word.
Jump forward to October 1, 2015. As of today, more than 4 million people have fled Syria over the last four years in an effort to escape a complex war between ISIS, the Syrian government and coalition forces. Millions more have evacuated from Iraq, Afghanistan and other parts of northern Africa. In the worst refugee crisis since WWII, Europe has been inundated with those running from death to life.
U2 pick up this theme in concert, nightly calling attention to the plight of refugees seeking safe haven in Europe, and “October” has focused the spotlight tightly on Syria. As Edge plays an extended and somewhat melancholy piano introduction, Gabriel Chaim’s drone footage is displayed on the massive screen overhead. Filmed with a drone in the bombed out ruins of Kobani, a city that was all but destroyed rather than surrendered to ISIS earlier this year, the haunting imagery perfectly matches the cold minimalist piano background. And then, Bono sings, “Kingdoms rise, and kingdoms fall,” a line written three decades ago, but still feels searingly appropriate against the images of destruction.
Rip my heart.
The message, however, doesn’t stop there. Bono continues with a note of hopefulness, “But you go on... and on.” There is both transience and permanence in the song, temporal pain as well as eternal promise. This has always been the mission of U2. Call out the present reality, but move toward the ideal that is not yet. At 22 years old, Bono articulated the notion,
This band stamps on pessimism. We're anti-cynics. October is an optimistic record because through it there's a joy. I say rejoice. I'm sick and tired of hearing bands on a stage complaining; there's a bitterness in them. We say fight it. Rejoice! Don't let it bring you down.
Hand my poor innocent heart back to me, a little wiser and more experienced. Peace.
Following the understated “October,” U2 rips into an intense and provoking trilogy of songs, including “Bullet The Blue Sky,” “Zooropa” and “Where The Streets Have No Name,” all repurposed to highlight the refugee crisis. See my earlier blog piece here if interested on commentary for this powerful, provocative set.
“October”—the album, the song and the season—reminds us that lament is a real and valid part of life, and that we all wander at times through desperate uncertainty. But the darkness is not completely devoid of hope. The intransigent light of love, and of faith, guides us to a new home, often through a frontier not previously traveled. Some people, like those fleeing Syria, need a little more aid to get there. But it reminds me that we're all refugees. We’re all just pilgrims on our way.
Here is a clip of “October” from Turin, September 4, 2015.
Here is Gabriel Chaim’s original CNN footage, seven minutes of which were bought for use in the U2 concert.
U2’s recent European leg kicked off this last week with two shows in Turin. Many of us had wondered, would Bono keep a variety of American themes alive from the first leg?
“I got my hands up. I surrender. Don’t shoot. I can’t breathe.” (References to racial violence in Ferguson, Baltimore, Charleston and New York.)
“Everywhere is becoming America,” and running “into the arms of America” at the end of “Bullet The Blue Sky.”
“America is not just a country. It’s an idea” along with a salute to MLK during “Pride (In The Name Of Love).”
These sentiments didn’t seem to fit with the European agenda, so, I was guessing that the economic crisis of the Euro, combined with heavy unrest due to the austerity measures in Greece, would make a relevant topic in place of all the ideological language about the United States.
But then the world became aware of something we weren’t paying attention to. Hundreds of thousands of people had been fleeing into Europe from unsettled and war-torn areas of Afghanistan, Syria and North Africa. And when 2000 travelers became trapped in a Budapest train station with no place to go, the media took note and began documenting the worst refugee crisis since WWII.
Throughout the crisis, and specifically within the last few months, there have been countless casualties as people make their way to the safety of central Europe. But time and time again, the voyage across the Mediterranean, a common and direct route to Greece, Italy and Spain, has ended in horrific death. An overcrowded fishing boat packed with 800 people was swamped in April, killing almost everyone aboard. The story is unconscionable and far too common now. Bodies continue washing up on Europe’s shores, victims of a wild sea, unscrupulous smugglers and failed governments. The picture of little Aylan lying alone on a Turkish beach is undeletable from my mind’s hard drive.
With determined passion, U2 has picked up the issue, focusing global attention on the crisis, and calling European leaders to collaborate in an effort of aid. This is seen most profoundly as the band once again reinvents not one, or two, but three of its most well know songs. Masters of reappropriation, U2 have often taken old songs and given them new meaning through careful reflection on contemporary issues. “Sunday Bloody Sunday” has consistently been reinterpreted over its three-decade course.
But on this leg, the new adaptation of “Bullet The Blue Sky,” “Zooropa” and “Where The Streets Have No Name” is nothing short of breath-taking (though “gut-wrenching” might be a more accurate term). As Bono closes “Bullet,” he abandons the bit about America, and, instead, speaks as a refugee. “I run, I run, into your arms, into your arms. I’m not dangerous. I’m in danger,” he pleads with the European Union. Then, as the music seamlessly transitions to an electronic drone, Edge’s ethereal guitar calling down from another dimension, Bono sings in the voice of a weary traveler, “And I have no compass and I have no map, and I have no reasons, no reasons to get back.” In doing so, the 20-year-old “Zooropa” becomes an alarming and poignant commentary on the crisis. "What do you want?" he asks rhetorically. "A place called home," is the response. The refugee’s voice continues with an even older tune, singing, “I want to run, I want to hide, I want to tear down the walls that hold me inside.” “Streets,” a song that foreshadows a coming world, also recalls the desperation of another refugee crisis in the mid-80s, when Bono and his wife witnessed waves of famine victims in Ethiopia. In an oddly surreal way, the song finds an appropriate home again on this tour.
As a viewer and listener of this new leg, my response has been very different than that of the first. “Streets” isn’t the blissful romp it was a month ago. Now it’s a solemn reminder of a humanitarian disaster that I can’t ignore. This trilogy of lament (“Bullet,” “Zooropa” and “Streets”) reminds me that evil still inhabits an imperfect world, and that my active presence is required through a peace-filled response. So, I tweet #refugeeswelcome, I sign petitions and I give to my favorite organizations that are intentionally seeking the wholeness of refuges and are lobyying governments on their behalf. I cannot not do something. My great-grandparents were refugees. My wife’s grandparents were refugees. We were all refugees at one time.
Though the trilogy works well, there’s one even smaller scene from the opening shows in Turin that will haunt me for a long time to come. It’s just 10 seconds, the perfect mashup of music, art and emotion. A video of the moment was tough to track down because most videographers are so busy filming the band, they miss the main act—the giant screen suspended in the middle of the arena. Here’s the best clip I’ve found. The scene I'm referring to comes in the middle of “Bullet,” so watch for it right at the 1:10 mark…
Did you see it? Several things are happening here. The image is attributed to Banksy, a British artist, displaying the flag of the European Union. But these aren’t ordinary stars. Look closely and you’ll see that each is a graphic representation of a human body floating lifelessly on the Mediterranean Sea, a poor, generic soul who just wanted work and freedom for his or her family. As Bono yells, “Bullet the blue… Bullet the blue!” (originally intended to reflect gunfire in Central America), the reference is now directed not at the sky, but at the violence and death of the Mediterranean’s deep and wild blue waters. I was chatting on Periscope with some U2 fans after the first Turin show when I realized the magnitude of the image. It stopped me cold. A real Joey Ramone moment from hell.
In the bridge following, Bono hums Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, “Ode To Joy,” and ironic contrast to the scene of death, but also a clear nod to Germany, one of the only countries in Europe providing exemplary help for refugees. Many countries have turned their backs and tightened their borders, but not Germany. It’s also a self-referential moment from the opening of the Zoo TV tour, when Bono goose stepped to the Ninth, stars falling from the EU flag (thanks for that one, Angela).
“Bullet” isn’t just a song about Central American peasants ducking and running for cover. It’s now about the last breath of an exhausted refugee who deserves more than the violence of a desperate homeland, and the empty promises of a human trafficker assuring safe passage. These images, these songs, these reinterpretations—they all stain me.
U2—like Psalms—isn’t a band that always leaves me feeling happy and clappy. And that’s okay. The Hebrew prophet usually told people things they didn’t want to hear but needed to know (also, by the way, using images and stories). For that, I offer my thanks to U2 and company. I need to be challenged and reminded about things that make me uncomfortable.
U2’s notion of names—and namelessness—continues on the I+E tour, reminding us that some things deserve to be named, while some are better left vague.
At least partial inspiration for “Where The Streets Have No Name” comes from Bono and Ali’s visit to Ethiopia in the mid ‘80s, as they witnessed an endless trail of refugees seeking relief from famine. The song is a quasi-parable, highlighting both the natural beauty of the desert, and the indignity suffered by those who trekked across a cruel, barren wilderness absent of even the most basic markers of civilization. But, while “Streets” is a reminder of violent, indiscriminate poverty, it’s also a glance forward to a time when boundaries, lines and descriptors no longer divide humanity. Perhaps an image of heaven or eternity or the kingdom coming (“a world we can’t always be”), it’s a vision that John the Revelator foretells as a place where streets will only be known for the glorious gleam of their gold-like shimmer.
Stephen Hawking reminds audiences of something similar on the current tour: “When we see the Earth from space we see ourselves as a whole. We see the unity, but not the divisions. One planet, one human race ... Our only boundaries are the way we see ourselves, the only borders the way we see each other. We must become global citizens.” Viewed from space, we realize the inadequacy of labels.
While a globe without markers and named streets may signal a coming age, U2 also know that names are important. In literature and art, naming is a powerful, creative act. Genesis tells us that the first imaginative activity of humans was to name the animals, an event parallel to God’s creative act of speaking creation into existence.
Throughout the Bible, names are frequently altered to signify a new era or a change of character. Abram becomes Abraham. Simon is rechristened Peter. Saul begins a new life as Paul. But one name was not allowed to be spoken. The ancient Hebrews would not say the name of their own Creator. Far too holy for words, their God was known as Yahweh (written YHWH, but not spoken), the great, all-encompassing, ever-present “I AM.”
One of my favorite childhood reads (okay, it’s also one of my favorite adult books) is Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle In Time quartet. Throughout the series, Meg, a quirky adolescent, is engaged in a cosmic battle of good-versus-evil. At one point the malevolent Ecthroi begin un-creating, “Xing” out and annihilating matter itself, leaving empty nothingness in its place, a reversal of God’s creative act. They un-name that which previously had a name. It’s a heinous act.
In Walking On The Water, L’Engle develops this theme further, saying,” It seems that more than ever the compulsion today is to identify, to reduce someone to what is on the label. To identify is to control, to limit. To love is to call by name and so open the wide gates of creativity. But we forget names and turn to label ... If we are pigeon-holed and labelled we are un-named.”
Genocide is the ultimate extension of un-naming, the eradication of an entire people group’s name, an attempt to remove them from history. It’s the most evil of actions.
Either by intention or intuition, U2 also know this and respond appropriately. On the I+E tour we see stark words on a huge screen, “Ireland needs truth and reconciliation. Everywhere needs truth and reconciliation. JUSTICE FOR THE FORGOTTEN.” The text accompanies cascading images of those who were killed in the terrorist bombing of May 17, 1974 in Dublin. Remembering that these people existed is itself an act of justice.
Other U2 tours have done likewise. While concluding "Sunday Bloody Sunday" at a Slane Castle concert in 2003, Bono read the names of 29 people, victims of a car bombing in Omagh (some of the names are also cited in the song “Peace On Earth”). During “Walk On” in New York City in 2001, and then again “Streets” at a Super Bowl halftime show in 2002, U2 scrolled the names of 9/11 victims across the screen. In Santiago, Chile, 1998, the “Mothers Of The Disappeared” came on stage, held up pictures and read the names of the fathers and sons they had lost to the Pinochet regime.
Still other songs signal the importance of names. “Invisible,” a key tune on the I+E tour, offers, “I finally found my real name.” “Unknown Caller” instructs, “You know your name so punch it in.” The final song on All That You Can’t Leave Behind reiterates, “Grace, it's the name for a girl.” And, of course, “Yahweh” is a prayer to that which is unnameable.
Names and namelessness are concepts heavily embedded on the current tour. It’s an appropriate consideration. And for a band with a highly ambiguous name, that’s not bad!
Or, as U2.com likes it, “iNNOCENCE + eXPERIENCE.” Which also has the abbreviation “i+e”.
So many little nuances built into that simple, yet complex, title.
I think of the top-level domain extension on the internet for Ireland: “.ie” is the country code on the web. Or, the Latin abbreviation “ie”, which in written compositions is used in a parenthetical comment to explain or clarify the previous statement. Both seem relevant to the current tour.
There's also the obvious connection to William Blake's masterpiece from 18th century. Tassoula Kokkoris dives into that one on the @U2 site.
Then there’s the stage design, which incorporates a main stage shaped like an “I”, and a b-stage shaped like an “e”.
But, while the band has certainly proven they can give us a storyline that moves from their own innocence to experience on this tour, the thing about the title that’s most intriguing to me is the little tiny symbol that's used.
“+”
It’s so small and unassuming. Maybe it should be bigger to give it more attention. But understatement is sometimes best. Misdirection allows for those with eyes to see.
And here is one of the most critical nuances: the “and” or “&” are never used. It’s always the “+”. With a normal band I might not care, but with U2, subtleties always matter.
In addition (pun intended), the title should not be limited to “Innocence ‘plus’ Experience.” No, there’s only one way I can see it anymore. That “+” is not an “and” or an ampersand or a plus sign. So what’s left?
It’s a cross.
“Innocence ‘cross’ Experience.”
Stop and think about it. Crosses abound in this show. Willie Williams admitted that those flickering fluorescent lights under the LED bridge during “Raised By Wolves,” are the same lights used later in the concert, some descending as horizontal light bars, and others as verticals. When combined, they create an optical illusion, so that no matter where you are standing in the arena, you’re likely to see crosses. What a profound idea. The grimy old lights of a seedy underpass are repurposed and redeemed into the holiest of symbols. Powerful.
Something else happens that only those in the stands are likely to notice. When the light bars come on, usually at the intro to “City Of Blinding Lights,” the entire stage is illuminated in the shape of a cruciform. It’s quite compelling. Stirring. Alarming even. The city of blinding lights that U2 sing about literally becomes tens of thousands of people gathered around a cross that minutes ago was the foundation of a dividing wall, but now unites all.
Mark Fisher, a longtime friend and stage designer for the band, passed away before the start of the tour, but during the planning phase, gave the team an insightful piece of advice. When Bono asked what the most important symbols of U2 had been over the years, Fisher, after listening to the ideas of others sitting around the table, bluttered out, “Why don’t you just do it, and put a fucking cross in the middle of the stadium?!”
Wow! That’s gotta be the best use of the f-bomb I’ve ever heard.
And so they did.
One final note about that cross sign. Have you ever noticed which key on an American computer keyboard must be pressed to type a “+”? It sits right above, and on the same button as the “=” sign. Anybody remember what alphanumeric symbol showed up in the logo along with U2’s name and on the wrapper of the deluxe edition of No Line On The Horizon? Does this look familiar...?
I can’t think of two symbols that better represent U2 in the last decade: the cross, and equality--both of them right there on the same computer key. Oh, yeah, one more thing. What action is necessary to move from equality to the cross on that computer key? Hint: it’ll take a “shift” in the way we think. Isn't that, also, what U2 have been trying to get us to do their whole career--to see things differently? Yup, shift happens.
If you'd like to know more about how the crosses were used only once during a performance of "Bad" in Vancouver, see my @U2 article here.
And then this excerpt from the band's SiriusXM interview, to be aired on Friday, August 7, in which Bono discusses the connection between Songs Of Innocence and the upcoming Songs Of Experience...
“The philosophy of the first album is probably best contained in a line from our second album October in a song called Rejoice. And the line is, ‘I can’t change the world, but I can change the world in me.’ That was the position that I think we felt when we were in our younger times,” he explained. “For Songs of Experience, it’s a different line — it’s in [the song] Lucifer’s Hands, which is an outtake that really has both innocence and experience in it – and it has the line, ‘I can change the world, but I can’t change the world in me.’
Bono continued: “So the thing is, when we were younger, we were fighting very much with the physical world and trying to make it a better place, trying to fight when we would see injustice wherever it raised its head. Whereas in the ‘90s we made a kind of a change, and we started fighting perhaps more interesting enemies, the ones that you find in your own life, in your own heart — the hypocrisy of the human heart is great material — and just finding those kinds of enemies, you know, it’s the world in you rather than the exterior world.”
This U2 tour has been a kind of crack. I never anticipated attending so many of the concerts. I didn't set out to be a groupie or a "fangirl." I've never met the band, I've only attended a few tours (my first was on top of the LA Coliseum in 1987) and I don't have an extensive set of memorabilia. And while many fans have seen many more shows than I have, I'm blessed to have taken in the i+e tour in Vancouver (1&2), San Jose (2), Los Angeles (1&3), Boston (3&4) and New York (7&8).
But this tour sucked me in because it's so addictive. I haven't completely processed why that is. It's got something to do with a middle-aged superstar band still managing to be creative, still connecting with their fans and still singing their way into a culture that desperately needs a message of post-punk Love.
Perhaps the most significant reason for being so captivated by this tour is found in its name, "Innocence + Experience." It's the narrative of this lifelong journey that sticks with me. And though I've seen the show nine times (and have watched it online at least 20 times), I've heard a different telling of the story each time, always noticing an interesting nuance or relating to one of the many themes in a unique way.
This blog is my attempt to sort out what is happening on U2's recent tour. I'll try to stay short and sweet. Some of my longer and deeper responses can be found on the website I write for, www.atU2.com, and on my own personal blog under the category of "U2 and Theology."
One final introductory note. I have somehow stumbled into hosting a little thing called "The Crystal Ballroom." It's a virtual place where many of us gather, through Periscope and Twitter, to debrief after each i+e concert and to chat about the rich content of this tour. Follow me at @timneufeld on both of those platforms to be a part of our growing unofficial U2 community, or check out the archives on my YouTube channel. Also, feel free to friend me on Facebook.
And, as always, I'd love to have interaction with you about the topics I raise, either here or through other social media. Maybe you can help as I reflect on a song, a tour and a band, trying to make some sense out of the world. It certainly has become my addiction.
From its beginning in 1976, U2 has consistently interacted with its environment, both influencing and being influenced by the world around. Giving as much attention to social, political and spiritual issues as it does musical creativity, this Irish quartet provides a unique case study in the intersection of artistic expression and cultural engagement.
The One Campaign
WWW.ONE.ORG Please join the ONE campaign to end extreme poverty and preventable disease, particularly in Africa.