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"Let's just say he's on the border between something and nothing." -- Bono, on Edge's nickname |
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"Let's just say he's on the border between something and nothing." -- Bono, on Edge's nickname |
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Like a Song: Bullet the Blue Sky
@U2,
July 15, 2007
[Ed. note: This is the fifth in a series of personal essays by the @U2 staff about songs and/or albums that have had great meaning or impact in our lives.]
 I was turned on to U2 in high school. I can't pinpoint the exact moment, but The Joshua Tree had me enthralled. The video for "With or Without You" drew me in, but "Bullet the Blue Sky" grabbed me and wouldn't let go.At the time, I was a hippie wanna-be. I read everything I could about Woodstock and Vietnam War protests. I wore tie-dyed shirts and peace symbol necklaces and earrings. I listened to '60s music. And my favorites were the protest songs. My friend Mike, on the other hand, enjoyed a different kind of protest music: punk. When I was listening to Crosby, Stills and Nash, Janis Joplin and the Moody Blues, Mike was listening to the Sex Pistols, the Dead Kennedys and the Misfits. We hung out all the time, going to the Rocky Horror Picture Show, idling down country roads or just watching cheesy horror movies at a friend's home. But music was one thing we didn't agree on. Then along came U2 with The Joshua Tree and "Bullet the Blue Sky." It spoke to both of us, though perhaps in different ways. But that's the beautiful thing about great music: It has different meanings for different people, bringing together those who might otherwise have little in common. For me, it was a classic protest song: the drum beat, the guitar, the lyrics. Even though the lyrics could be open to interpretation about what exactly they mean, the anger and frustration are clear. I obviously discovered U2 later than Mike, as he already had a stash of tapes to loan me once I became a fan. Their lyrics started popping up in the notes we passed back and forth in school. But the one song that manifested itself over and over again was "Bullet." Mike was and remains my favorite artist. He was constantly drawing: in his sketchbook, on napkins, on notes he'd pass me. He drew random characters, portraits of me and other friends, portraits of Bono. But the ones that I've kept all these years is the "Bullet the Blue Sky" series he did for me. Mike absconded with my notebook one day during class. When he returned it, one of the dividers had a sequence of Bono-esque mulleted figures, starting with head bowed and slowing rising to a scream, with a burning cross atop a hill in the background. Tiny lyrics and poetry are hidden throughout. Down the side are the words "Bullet the sky." Some time later, my French folder ended up with a sequel titled "Blue sky." The next year, he gave me watercolors with the same titles. These were less dark, but just as powerful. And that's what the song has always remained for me. No matter how many times I've heard it, or how many versions I've heard, I get chills every single time when the drum beat kicks in and Edge's wailing guitar takes off. I can even give myself chills just thinking about it. The sheer poetry of the lyrics still amazes me. And as Mike's art and interpretations evolved, so has the song. I love a good protest song, but one that can be reinvented for different causes just blows my mind. And somehow, with U2, it's always a cause I can get behind, if I haven't already. First, it's the U.S. involvement in Central America in the 1980s: In the locust wind comes a rattle and hum Jacob wrestled the angel, and the angel was overcome You plant a demon seed, you raise a flower of fire See them burning crosses, see the flames higher and higher. I feel a long way from the hills of San Salvador Where the sky is ripped open And the rain pours through the gaping wound Pelting the women and children who run ... who run ... into the arms ... of America Then, on Rattle and Hum, it evoked the hypocrisy of the televangelists: And I can't tell the difference between ABC News, Hill Street Blues, And a preacher of the old-time gospel hour Stealing money from the sick and the old. Well the God I believe in isn't short of cash, mister! While those versions got me pumped up and ready to take on the world, the version on the Elevation tour chilled me to the bone. The intro, with Charlton Heston telling us, "Any gun in the hands of a good man is no threat to anyone except bad people," had me riled up. But when Bono got to his rant about cold steel and John and Yoko and Mark Chapman, it felt like a kick in the gut. It was as if he were channeling another person, and the performance was breathtaking. And I can feel the cold steel I can feel the cold steel And I can make a wound that won't heal I can make a wound that won't heal 38 millimeters like the police I'm at the door where John and Yoko live in love and peace In love and peace In love and peace Feel like an old shoe A rerelease Soon to be deceased ... Hey John ... War is over we don't need your help America's making war on itself War is over we don't need your help America's making war on itself Six hundred and seventy six thousand Will go down in the streets of America With a bullet in the next 20 years 20 years, these bitter tears In a business of bitter tears John ... (Can you hear us calling?) More bodybags than Vietnam What's my name? Mark Chapman What's my name? Mark Chapman Mark Chapman Mark Chapman Mark Chapman Mark Chapman On the Vertigo tour, "Bullet" seems to have been toned down, but Bono crawling across the stage blindfolded is powerfully effective in itself. The song seems to have come full circle, back to a criticism of U.S. foreign policy, this time evoking an image of the prisoners at Abu Ghraib. What will it be for the next tour? I can't wait to find out. But maybe, in the meantime, I can get Mike to sketch out his latest interpretation. © @U2/Watson, 2007.
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