Several staff writers for @U2 (still the biggest and best U2 fan website on the planet) recently reviewed the new album, No Line on the Horizon.
Love, love, love.
I’ll be writing my next “Like A Song” essay about “Breathe” in mid-May. But for now, here’s my review; I invite you to read the other staff responses, and give the album a listen. Chances are I’m listening to it too.
Enjoy.
It’s a brilliant album.
I am a U2 fan, but I’m not an automatic fan of all things U2. I haven’t listened to a single track from How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb since the Vertigo tour. I am lukewarm about All That You Can’t Leave Behind — I love some of the songs there, but as an album it feels uneven to me, disconnected from itself and certainly disconnected from me. And so I’ve been worried.
And here I am, back again in the church of U2, mad in love with No Line On The Horizon.
It reminds me structurally of War — an album in two parts that takes me on a single, spiraling journey to a place that I can only describe as “deep inside.” Deep inside U2, who are in my opinion truly stretching themselves musically for the first time since Pop, and finally — finally! — back to making deeply personal music that is also sometimes political, as opposed to tub-thumping numbers or the horror that is “Window in the Skies.” And deep inside myself, too; these are songs I can connect with, soar with, cry to, move to. Songs I can love.
The base of the music is what I love best about U2: the strength and grace of the bass and drums, the guitar like soul in flight, the voice that is someone’s heart turned into sound. And from this base, the album climbs into places like “Breathe” and “Cedars of Lebanon” that literally take my breath away. I’ve never been so astonished by the ending of an album before.
It’s good to be in love again. It’s brilliant.