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"It is true . . . that I once danced -- or, to be precise, pogoed -- with Van Morrison in Bono's living room." -- Salmon Rushdie, 2001 |
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"It is true . . . that I once danced -- or, to be precise, pogoed -- with Van Morrison in Bono's living room." -- Salmon Rushdie, 2001 |
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Bono Kicks Off 'Wardrobe Tour'Weighty issues keep courtroom enthralled
Irish Independent,
June 29, 2005
From U2 to We Sue in less than 24 hours. Rock 'n' roll is a rollercoaster.
Yesterday morning, fresh from three sellout nights in Croke Park, the supergroup kicked off the first leg of their much-awaited Wardrobe Tour in the intimate surrounds of a small Dublin courtroom. Charismatic frontman Bono took the stage in front of an excited audience of awe-stricken young barristers and devoted fans. During breaks in proceedings, we witnessed the bizarre sight of simpering lawyers in wigs and gowns surrounding the U2 superstar, holding out their notepads to be autographed. Perhaps, given that part of the case involves a pair of canvas runners autographed on each toe by drummer Larry Mullen Jr., it is not too outrageous to imagine Bono signing briefs. Legal or otherwise. At the outset, his lawyer, Paul Sreenan, SC, helpfully explained the basics to Judge Matthew Deery. "The third named plaintiff, m'lud, goes by the artistic name of Bono." And just to be perfectly clear, the claimants in the case are "members of the rock band known as U2." Bono then got up and did his thing, introducing some new numbers that didn't make it on to the set list during the Croker gigs. He produced three showstoppers. An entertaining cover of the old Sultans of Ping FC classic: "Where's me Jumper?" An interesting reworking of that old Highland favourite: "Bono, Where's Yer Troosers?" And a passionate rendition of the old music hall staple: "Where Did You Get That Hat?" Sadly, by the end of the first day, it must be noted he still hasn't found what he's looking for, as the case continues. U2 are suing their former stylist, Lola Cashman, for the recovery of items they claim belong to the band. Ms. Cashman, who tried to auction them in London auction house, Christie's, in 2002, says they are her property and were given to her by the band during their Joshua Tree/Rattle and Hum tours. There was a big cardboard box at the top of the room, bound in strong tape marked "fragile." Inside were the items at issue. They included a pair of trousers, a stetson hat, the running shoes, a cheap pair of hoop earrings, a sweat shirt, a couple of souvenir mugs and -- the mind boggles -- a cardboard Christmas decoration made by a fan. Bono gave an interesting discourse on the importance of image to a band striving to place its work into the "pop consciousness." And it led to a question the distinguished Mr. Sreenan probably never thought he would be asking outside of a highly unusual family law dispute: "Who has custody of the wardrobe?" Bono's controversial trousers are three-quarter length, high-waisted black pants with a subtle stripe worked into the weave. Lola later explained they were purposely cropped because he used to tuck his normal strides into his boots when on-stage, but as he started to sweat, they would chaff his legs. She had a number of truncated pairs made in different sizes to take account of the singer's fluctuating weight, "so he wouldn't get down about it." Hugh Hartnett, SC, for Ms. Cashman, found the subject of Bono's assorted trousers particularly fascinating. "You wouldn't want to be bulging out of them," he ventured. "It can happen to all of us," replied Bono. "Indeed," mused Hugh, "it's an embarrassment to all of us when you start bursting out of your waistcoat or your rock and roll trousers." But yesterday both Bono and Larry looked very trim, and raffishly unshaven. They were the only two band members present, and seemed a little uncomfortable in their dark suits, white shirts and black neckties. Larry didn't give evidence. His colleague was first to take the stand, choosing not to swear on the bible but affirm the oath instead. He seemed slightly taken aback when the court registrar asked his name for the record. "Eh, Bono." Then, with a little mystified shake of the head he added, "Paul Hewson." He spoke very quietly, his voice a deep, slightly hoarse burr. "If you could just try to keep up your voice, if you wouldn't mind," he was asked. That must have been a first for Bono. The courtroom was so packed there was hardly a breath in the sweltering air. The gallery hung on Bono's every word, staring at him, tracking every little move he made. Court cases here involving rock stars in recent times, despite the very serious nature of the subject at issue, have tended to be highly entertaining affairs. Yesterday's was no different. Bono's penchant for wearing earrings was discussed every which way, while his choice of head wear was mulled over in great detail. But court cases and the law tend to strip away glamour. "It doesn't sound like rock 'n roll," mused Hugh Hartnett sadly, at one point. "It's not like things were in the sixties." And even His Lordship nodded ruefully. © Unison.ie, 2005.
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