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"Rock & roll music -- the noisier the better -- is still my alarm clock. It still keeps me awake. It's a hymn to the numbness, a reasonable response to the way we live." -- Bono, 1992 |
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"Rock & roll music -- the noisier the better -- is still my alarm clock. It still keeps me awake. It's a hymn to the numbness, a reasonable response to the way we live." -- Bono, 1992 |
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Like A Song: Pop Goes My World
@U2,
March 04, 2007
[Ed. note: This is the first 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. The series will be called "Like A Song," and we aim to continue the series on a monthly basis. This first edition also happens to coincide perfectly with our celebration of the 10th anniversary of the Pop album.]
 In March we celebrate the anniversary of two extraordinary albums by U2. Twenty years ago, the seminal The Joshua Tree was released, and ten years later, Pop. I know people who swear their lives were changed by The Joshua Tree, that it captured the very essence of their soul's expression, that every note was perfect and true. I wish I could say that it happened to me, because it would have been so easy to fall in love with one of the most revered U2 records of all time. But The Joshua Tree was not for me. I would have to wait for my epiphany, and it would come in the form of the darkest, most maligned U2 album ever recorded. It was out of my hands; I didn't choose Pop, it chose me. When Pop was first released in 1997, a friend had lent me his copy, which I listened to a few times but hated. Too busy to care, I returned it to him and promptly forgot about it. (I still went to see PopMart; I knew better than to miss a U2 show.) Then in 2001, I was reacquainted via a homemade "Best of" U2 CD. I remember being surprised that there were songs I didn't recognize: "Gone," "Please," and "Staring at the Sun." I called the friend who had originally lent me the album and a few days later, I had a copy of Pop in my hands. Around this time, surprisingly, I had discovered running. I was 38 years old, and except for a few brief stints with tennis racquets and a mountain bike, I have never been consistently physically active. I had just given birth to my second child and walking quickly got boring. I'd sometimes run with a neighbor, but mostly I went alone, with a CD to keep my mind off the pain. I was not a good runner and would stop on a dime if I couldn't stay motivated, but I couldn't find anything that kept me from focusing on the tiredness in my legs or my gasping for breath. I was working my way through my U2 albums, and Pop was just the one I hadn't tried yet. I never expected it could change me. From that first run, I knew I had stumbled onto something special. The lyrics on Pop are some of Bono's most introspective and profound, the depths of which hit me like a boom-cha karate kick in the chest. That's me in "Discothèque," wanting to be the song I hear in my head, daring anyone to tie me down in "Do You Feel Loved?" I'm defiantly looking for a sound that's gonna drown out the world in "Mofo." I'm the reckless girl of "Last Night On Earth" who's got to give it away. No big deal, I know the score in "Miami." I don't know if I can hold on in "The Playboy Mansion," but "If God Will Send His Angels," I sure could use them here right now. I'm begging "Please," leave me out of this; unless it's a private show, no one else is gonna know in "If You Wear That Velvet Dress." I'm alone in this world, screaming "Wake Up Dead Man," and a f--ked up world it is too. On every run, I'm taking steps that make me feel dizzy, but I get to like the way it feels. I'm not the only one who's happy to go blind, while "Staring at the Sun," because I'm already "Gone." It's no coincidence that my running took off after I started listening to Pop. For two years, I ran to this music every day. I was carrying more than extra weight; I had loads of emotional baggage that I didn't want anymore. It was time to slough it off, and Pop was the friction. It wasn't just the relentless beats that drove me. It was the attitude. The music allowed me to focus on my negative feelings, which became pure energy that I was able to harness as a positive force. Alone on the roads or on the treadmill, I was free to feel hurt and indignant, sad, angry, and frustrated. I was looking to fill that god-shaped hole. There is so much pathos in the songs that it made a perfect soundtrack for a transformation. Although I no longer listen to Pop every time I run (it's hard to maintain that level of intensity without burning out), it never fails to light a fire under me and still makes me run faster than my legs can go, like I'm being pushed down a steep slope by a freight train. Halfway down, anger and frustration become determination and resolve, defiance becomes pride. It's scary, everything hurts, but it's a Pop fly, a runner's high that continues to invigorate every aspect of my life. I'm living like it's my last night on earth. During the Vertigo tour, I stopped reading interviews, previews and reviews because of the rampant Pop bashing that was present in nearly every article. Most of the comparisons mentioned the PopMart tour, rehashing all the accepted criticisms, such as "rushed, self-indulgent, a mistake." Apparently, the band thought so too, choosing not to play any selections from Pop for the majority of their latest tour. Did the giant mirrorball lemon sour Pop's respectability as a great record? I have no need to defend Pop to the unappreciative, because I understand why the album is misunderstood. It's not easy to get past the euro-trash beats, and if you do, you're rewarded with brooding, cynical lyrics. It's like biting into a chocolate-covered coffee bean; candy coated on the outside, dark and bitter on the inside. It shouldn't taste good, but it becomes addictive. The energizing beats are the antidote to the lyrics, and keep the songs from becoming morose. Where are the anthems, the declarations of hope and faith and love that we can sing at the top of our lungs? Not here. There are 9 other U2 albums if that's what you're looking for. I couldn't answer the @U2 survey question asking whether it was a good idea for U2 to re-record Pop because my answer is yes...and no. Yes, because I would love to hear U2's idea of what this record should be, although 10 inexorable years have passed since it was recorded and will no doubt color the final result. And no, because I'm afraid they'll ruin it by scrubbing off the jagged edges, erasing all the squeals and bleeps. The band feels that Pop is unfinished, but history is full of great art that remains unfinished; the Taj Mahal, Schubert's Unfinished Symphony, and Gaudi's La Sagrada Familia, to name a few. Perhaps because I feel unfinished, I can appreciate the beauty of what exists, regardless of what was intended. Let's leave Pop where it belongs: up with the sun. I'll be there too, and we're not coming down. © @U2/Maione, 2007.
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