Tag: @U2

U2 in Seattle

Here’s an essay I published last week on @U2, the best U2 website on the planet, where I am proud to be a staff writer.

For those of you who aren’t stone U2 fans, the essay title is a lyric from the song “A Sort of Homecoming.”

To use the E-Phonic MP3 Player you will need Adobe Flash Player 9 or better and a Javascript enabled browser.

I’m also here to remind you that I’ll be starting the Clarion West Write-a-thon on Sunday, and I hope you’ll consider supporting me. The day sponsor slots are filling up, but there are still slots available, and I’d love to write something just for you…

And if you’re a writer, please consider participating! We’ve nearly reached our goal of 100 participating writers, and we have a challenge grant in progress — if we make 100 participants, we’ll receive $15 for every writer. Help us make that goal!

Enjoy your day.

Tonight, At Last, I Am Coming Home: U2 in Seattle

I spent Saturday afternoon, June 4, in the company of some of my warm, funny, smart colleagues from @U2. I spent Saturday evening inside U2’s music; inside myself.

It was a phenomenal day. The music was magic as only experts can make it: so fresh and new that it’s easy to forget it comes from years of practice and the utter willingness of the artists to surrender to the moment. I saw in the band, and felt in myself, intimacy and trust and passion and personal connection under the clear night sky in a stadium of 65,000 people. Pretty amazing.

And a sort of homecoming for me.

Here’s why: I’ve been a U2 fan for 30 years. I love these guys. A lot of their music is identity music for me, songs that speak to me so much of myself that I can hear them and remember who I am even when the fog is thick around me, even when I’m standing on the wrong side of one of my own internal canyons. Even when I’m scared. But most especially when I am not scared. Most especially when I am full of joy and confidence, when I love both myself and the world, the music of U2 has been my music too.

But the last few years, I’ve not been finding so much power in the new music. I like it, it’s good, I can listen to it for an hour and then move on. It’s smart, it’s political, it’s full of allusion, there are love songs … but it’s not intimate (for me) and it hasn’t brought me those moments of Oh!, that frisson of finding myself inside a song. And that’s what I want from U2. I want the intimacy that only music creates between artist and audience: I sing you.

And so here’s the thing: I’ve had tickets to this show for 2 1/2 years, and I almost didn’t go. I’m tired and I have a lot on my plate right now, and I was frightened of being on my feet for hours, crushed against people who would go get a beer because they didn’t recognize the song and were only there to video the hits on their iPhone. I was frightened of being unable to see or hear the music, unable to feel it. Unable to find myself there. I just wasn’t sure I could bear it.

But I went. Because I love these guys, and part of love is trusting that someday we will understand each other again. I also went because @U2 — the site, the team, the work we do — is important to me, and we rarely get to see each other.

I’m so glad I went. My @U2 compadres are savvy about concert logistics, so we ended up in what I am convinced was the best place in the stadium — perfect sound, great view of the entire set, no one at our backs, and plenty of space for me to dance or to lift up my arms in exultation. A place like an open door into a room big enough for 65,000 people, and small enough for just me and my band. I’m forever grateful to my @U2 friends. I never would have found that open door without them.

And then U2 walked in and played.

It was magnificent.

On Saturday, June 4, U2 and I came home to each other. It turns out we have just as much to talk about as we ever did. Through the music, we still speak of love and yearning, the complexity of life, the power of the human spirit, and the smack-you-in-the-heart simplicity of joy.

And so it begins again, my love affair with U2. Bono said that night, “If there is one idea that underpins our band, it’s the idea that you can start again. And today we are starting again.”

Then they played me. Then they sang me. I’m so glad I was there to hear it.

Jukebox

I’ve been asking why. These are some of the answers. And that’s all the analysis I’m doing today: this is music, it can’t always be etherized and spread out upon the table. Draw your own conclusions if you like, or just enjoy.
 

To use the E-Phonic MP3 Player you will need Adobe Flash Player 9 or better and a Javascript enabled browser.


 
“Hypnotized”
Because there’s no explaining what your imagination can make you see and feel.

“The Unforgettable Fire”
I am only asking, but I think you know.
Come on, take me away.
Come on, take me away.
Come on, take me home.

“Spaced”
And I’m never, never, never, never ever going back.
I’m off the track.

“Shoot High, Aim Low”
Shall we lose ourselves for a reason?
Shall we burn ourselves for the answer?
Have we found the place we’re looking for?
Someone shouted “Open the door!”
Look out!

“Shine It All Around”
These are the times of my life, bright and strong and golden.
This is the way that I choose when the deal goes down.

Like a Song: Breathe

This essay is published today at @U2, the (yep, she’s going to say it again) best damn U2 fan website on the planet. The essay is part of our “Like a Song” series, in which @U2 staffers reflect on the personal meaning that specific songs have for us. It’s one of our most popular regular features. If you enjoy this one, I invite you to also read “Like a Song: Surrender” and “Like a Song: Elevation”, as well as the many other great essays from members of the @U2 writing team.

I’m posting the essay here in its entirety because I want to include the song itself, for those who don’t know it, as well as the lyrics (since the song moves rather fast). You’ll find both after the essay.

I really do love this song. I find it structurally fascinating. I love Bono’s voice, the urgency and precision of the rhythm section, the guitar… wow, listen to the guitar become positively ecstatic at about 3:40 as Bono proclaims We are people born of sound. I believe it. I cannot wait to see this song live.

Enjoy.

 
Like a Song: Breathe
 

It’s been hard to breathe.

As is true for many people, much of my life is suddenly at risk: my income, my mortgage, my career, my art, the life I love so much and have worked so hard to build. In what seemed like only a moment, only a breath, the world’s markets went down in flames and took my money with them: the business I started has not yet found its feet, and may never become sustainable in this shaky economy; and the writing project that has consumed me for three years was given to someone else.

Most of us have taken a punch in the gut sometime in our lives. Most of us know what it’s like when we suddenly can’t breathe.

Man at the door says if I want to stay alive a bit longer
There’s three things I need you to know.

I knew what those things were: squeeze down our budget, get a real job, and don’t whine. Millions of people are having a hard time. So I sent out a truckload of resumes and tailored cover letters. I had a hundred “coffee meetings” to network with strangers, both of us smiling hard and hoping desperately each other would have the answer. I went to one unbelievably surreal job fair where the tightly packed room smelled so strongly of fear — like something burning — that I had to leave.

The forest fire that is fear

All those hours at my desk, working on those letters and resumes, I listened constantly to No Line on the Horizon. It was clear to me right away that this album is Bono’s line in the sand: he is a musician first and a world-saver second. Maybe I heard it that way because I was missing my screenplay badly, and trying to come to terms with the idea of someone else doing the writing that I thought of as mine. This is standard practice in Hollywood, it happens to every writer, but it was the first time it had happened to me. I wanted to start another project, to keep working, to stay sane. But I’m not Bono; art doesn’t pay my mortgage right now, and so I told myself that art was not the priority.

But I went on listening to Bono throwing down, being so clear: Sing your heart out.

And then I had the chance to apply for a job that would involve working around writers. A tough job for not enough pay, but maybe I could still do some writing of my own, or at least be near people who were. I fought like a bear for it. So did the more than 100 other people who applied. And sometimes there are miracles, but not this time. I was their number three pick; they talked about bringing all three of us in to interview with the entire staff, but the staff fell stone in love with number one, and that was it.

And there I was, no job, no screenplay, and I couldn’t breathe. All I could do was run in mental circles inside my own head, like a frightened animal in a forest fire.

The forest fire that is fear

And then… I don’t know. Maybe I ran myself out and was finally exhausted enough that the only thing I could do was turn and face my fears. Really look at them. Losing my home, my security, my writing, my confidence, failing, being ashamed, wrecking my partner’s life.

Here is what I saw. I saw that breath is life. Oxygen keeps our hearts beating and gives our muscles strength, and feeds our brains so we can think. And fear is like fire: it takes the air away. It burns our hope and our will and leaves us only the ashes of grief that will choke us if we let them. No wonder I was feeling helpless and afraid: I had stopped breathing.

And I’m not the only one. Millions of us every day are frightened and grieving. Right this second, someone is losing their job, their home, their relationship. Their child is sick. Their beloved cat is dying in their arms. They are blinking at the “Closed” sign on their favorite coffee shop where the barista always knew exactly how they liked their latte.

And right this second, someone is finding their courage to start again. Right now, someone is trying to breathe.

So here it is: writing is my breath. It may not pay my mortgage, but it will save me so that I can save myself. Writing this will save me. I got my screenplay back, and in a 78-hour period last week I spent 42 hours working on it, and that will save me. I am going to start offering my services as an editor and looking for more freelance gigs, and even if I can’t get enough work, even if I end up again as some company’s director of whatever, what I am doing right now will save me. Because I feel like myself again. I can breathe.

So this song has become for me the roar on the other side of that horrible silence. Every day I will walk out into the street and sing my heart out for as long as I can.

We all have someone or something we love so much that it defines us. We all have things that make us who we are. When you’re frightened, when it feels too hard, that’s when you need your clear brain and your strength the most –€“ so run, run to the things that make you breathe. Whether you find them in art, family, religion, helping others, reading books, gardening, hiking, counting stars, no matter — stand in the space of those things and breathe the pure oxygen they give you. Breathe deep. I promise it will help.

Walk out into a sunburst street
Sing your heart out
Sing my heart out.
I’ve found grace inside a sound
I found grace, it’s all that I found.
And I can breathe.

To use the E-Phonic MP3 Player you will need Adobe Flash Player 9 or better and a Javascript enabled browser.

“Breathe” – U2

16th of June, nine-oh-five, doorbell rings
Man at the door says if I want to stay alive a bit longer
There’€™s three things I need you to know
Three.

Coming from a long line of traveling sales people on my mother’€™s side
I wasn’€™t gonna buy just anyone’€™s cockatoo
So why would I invite a complete stranger into my home?
Would you?

These days are better than that
These days are better than that

Every day I die again, and again I’€™m reborn
Every day I have to find the courage
To walk out into the street
With arms out
Got a love you can’t defeat
Neither down nor out
There’€™s nothing you have that I need
I can breathe
Breathe now

16th of June, Chinese stocks are going up
And I’€™m coming down with some new Asian virus
Juju man, juju man
Doc says you’re fine, or dying
Please
Nine-oh-nine, St. John Divine on the line, my pulse is fine
But I’€™m running down the road like loose electricity
While the band in my head plays a striptease.

The roar that lies on the other side of silence
The forest fire that is fear so deny it.

Walk out into the street
Sing your heart out
The people we meet will not be drowned out
There’€™s nothing you have that I need
I can breathe
Breathe now

We are people born of sound
The songs are in our eyes
Gonna wear them like a crown

Walk out into a sunburst street
Sing your heart out
Sing my heart out
I’€™ve found grace inside a sound
I found grace, it’s all that I found
And I can breathe
Breathe now.

A brilliant horizon

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.

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.


click here if you can’t see the player

Like a Song: Surrender

I’m a staff writer for the website @U2 (and yes, I say this every time, but it’s still the best damn U2 fan site on the planet). One of my favorite parts of @U2 is our Like A Song series, personal essays by staff members about U2 songs that are important to us.

This month’s podcast includes my reading of my essay on the song “Surrender” from the War album. Powerful album, powerful song. My audio is a bit hissy, alas — I’m still learning how to manage the technology we have — but I hope you’ll give it a listen. The reading is a titch over 8 minutes long.

Download the entire podcast, or listen directly to my segment.

And here’s the essay.

And here’s the song:

[Use this link if you can’t see the media player.]

Enjoy.

Song of my Sunday

All the world that I can see from my office is covered in snow, framed by icicles on the overhang outside the window. It’s cold, it’s quiet and still, the sky is half-blue and half-more-snow.

Today I am many things, but mostly I am lucky. I have food in the house and a house to keep the food in. I’m warm in here. I have health insurance that just paid for half the medication I’m taking because I’m still coughing 6 weeks after being sick. I have a new business that I suspect will struggle for a long time before it takes off, but I have (perhaps absurd) faith in the integrity and goodness of it, and I believe that it will reach people and help them. I am worried about finding paid work in the meantime.

There’s a lot going on.

So what am I doing? I am working on my screenplay all day today in a grand gesture of thank you to the beautiful day and fuck you to the people who say that female-driven movies can’t get greenlit, to the search for paid work, and the many frightening things in the wider world. Because writing this movie makes me most happy, and today being most happy is more important than being stressed or realistic or responsible. I am having enormous fun. And I am listening to this.

My advice is to turn it up loud.

Click here if you can’t access the player.

Putting on my interviewing hat

As many of you know, I’m a staff writer for @U2, the #1 U2 fan website in the world. I’m there because I’m a stone U2 fan, and because of how much I enjoy working with @U2 founder and editor Matt McGee. He’s built a great site and runs a great team of people who keep it going.

And now Matt’s published his first book — U2 – A Diary. It’s a comprehensive history of the band in diary format, interspersed with stories, rare photos, and interesting factoids. And it’s not just a collection of details — Matt’s a journalist by training, and he’s always looking for the connections, for the way that events have shaped the overall story of U2. He’s done a fantastic job, and I believe the book will become a must-have for every serious fan, and a cool-to-have for anyone who’s interested in how four creative people manage their relationships and make their music for more than 30 years.

And it’s a very 21st-century book in a particular way — Matt established a website for the book while he was researching and writing, and encouraged fans to participate by helping ferret out details. He’s already generated tons of excitement in the U2 fan community just by giving people a window into the process.

We’re all totally jazzed about it over at @U2, and I’ve just done an interview with Matt in which he shares many stories of how the book came together. In interviews and in person, Matt is real and funny and very self-effacing (the staff had to pretty much bully him into letting us support the book on the site, but hey, we’re just that ornery so it all worked out). Enjoy the interview, and do feel free to buy the book (grin).

And while you’re over at @U2, let me also point you to an interview I did with Michka Assayas (whose book I excerpted in yesterday’s post). He’s a great interview subject, smart and curious and very accessible. (Michka, if you happen to be googling yourself and end up here, do you remember this interview? I enjoyed our conversation very much, and it’s fun to revisit it today.)

I like doing these kinds of interviews. I spend a lot of time crafting the questions, looking for a tone and approach that I hope will connect with the subject, based on what I know (or perceive) about them. You’ll see a tone difference in the questions in these two interviews, but also, I hope, a consistency of focus. I’m interested in people’s process and their experiences of being creative, and I try to make my questions potentially expansive, the kind that give people the chance to talk about the truth of their feelings if they wish to. It’s a real joy for me when people take the questions seriously, and respond as thoughtfully as Michka and Matt. I hope you’ll enjoy reading them.

And now I am off to the rest of my day, ending with salad and spaghetti and alcohol and, I very much hope, Barack Obama’s acceptance speech. I think I may burst into tears at that point, but it’s okay, Nicola is used to it.

A lovely day to you all.

Calling all U2 fans

@U2, the U2 fan website that I write for, is sponsoring the first-ever academic conference about U2. “U2,The Hype and the Feedback: A conference exploring the music, work and influence of U2” will happen May 13 – 15, 2009 in New York. Special guests include esteemed music writers Anthony DeCurtis and Steve Turner, award-winning religion writer Cathleen Falsani, Jim Henke of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and Matt McGee, who is my boss from @U2 (hey, Fearless Leader!) and the author of the forthcoming book U2: A Diary.

The conference is hosted by Cedarville University and is the brainchild — and long labor — of Scott Calhoun, an @U2 staff writer and a professor at Cedarville.

Many of the @U2 staff are involved in some aspect of the conference. I’m a member of the panel reviewing submission papers for the programming tracks, and I’m looking forward to this new light shining on the music and band I love. What will the academics say about U2? Should be interesting…

If you’re a U2 fan, or you know someone who is, please let them know about the conference. You don’t have to be an academic to attend — you just gotta love U2!

And just to show how serious U2 can be, here’s a clip from Rattle and Hum (1987) that includes a kickass version of “Desire”… and a very funny interview with a very stoned band.

When they were boys

I’ve been listening to early U2 — the band’s first three albums have been remastered and re-released with B-sides and rarities, and it’s fun fun fun for a stone fan like me.

If you’ve listened to my Reality Break interview, you know I love any chance to witness art being made, to be a part of the moment when a human being makes that kind of meaning out of their heart and head and body, right in front of me. Almost as good is having a window into the artist’s response to their own work — it’s a different kind of jazz, the chance to watch the artist’s mind consider a part of themselves at some distance.

Here’s one of those chances: RollingStone.com posted a review of the re-issues, and Bono wandered over from whatever corner of the internet he’s currently in, and posted his own long and conversational response to the band’s first album, Boy.

Even if you’re not a stone U2 fan, perhaps you will enjoy watching the adult artist consider the boys who made Boy. For me there is something powerfully compelling about this fond and amused and in some ways ruthless assessment of one’s own work.

And then there’s this:

For us music was a sacrament …an even more demanding and sometimes more demeaning thing than music as ART, we wanted to make a music to take you in and out of your body, out of your comfort zone, out of your self, as well as your bedroom, a music that finds you looking under your bed for God to protect your innocence…
 
— Bono on RollingStone.com

This is why I love these guys whom I call my Irish brothers. Because in this way, we want the same things.

So here’s a song — “Tomorrow,” actually from October, the second album, but this is the song that’s taking me to the river today, the sacramental ecstatic song. Enjoy.

U2, “Tomorrow” from October, 1981