U2: Magnificent

On Saturday September 12, 2009, 65,000 fans embarked on a journey to Soldier Field. Located right on Lake Michigan, the stadium, normally home to the Chicago Bears, transformed into a temple to the one common religion on earth: music. U2, fresh off the band’s adventures in Europe, began the U.S. leg of the 360 tour in a city that was home to me for twenty-three years. I got wind of the concert in Spring of this year and, via an auction, bid on two tickets in the Red Zone. Only one person could possibly be my date for this show – my sister, who, twenty-two years ago, convinced our parents to let me take a Grayhound bus to Champaign Urbana, where, via a lottery, at $15 a piece, she purchased six seventh-row center-stage tickets to the band’s Joshua Tree tour.

That specific album was, as Malcolm Gladwell would say, U2’s tipping point: it pushed the band over from a popular college group into a monumental, enduring musical force matched only by the likes of The Rolling Stones and Madonna. Thus, today, even in the most difficult of economic times, these musical acts are recession-proof (or, as my economics professors would say, they have “inelastic demand.”) and millions across the globe opened their wallets to escape reality, to get transformed and to just feel damn good. I, too, bit the proverbial bullet. And, after almost nine months of cost-cutting, budget watching and massive lifestyle changes, the investment was well worth it.

When my sis and I got to the stadium, after a one mile hike from the parking garage, and picked up our tickets, we were directed into the special Red Zone 2 section, where we were told to put away those same tickets, as by this point we had bracelets on indicating our location. Not only were we right in front of the 360 catwalk, but we also had access to private restrooms, private food stands and private merchandise counters. But, the truth was, we didn’t come to this concert for the external privileges. While nice, our main desire and focus was seeing one of the greatest living bands alive perform some of the most inspiring and memorable songs of the past three decades. And, we were not alone, as evidenced by the stadium masses. As my cousin later put it “Millions of people, singing along to every lyric of every song.”

Instead of trying any feeble attempts to describe the futuristic spaceship stage with the moving screen, the 360 degree surrounding catwalk and the bridges that connect the two, I’ll let the photos speak for themselves. I will, however, do my best to convey the essence of the concert and the sound of the powerhouse known to the globe as U2.

But first, a brief and necessary mention of the opening band, Snow Patrol. I hadn’t previously connected with their music on the radio. Hearing the musicians live gave me a new appreciation for the melodic sound and poetic lyrics. Additionally, the lead singer sported a Chicago Bears t-shirt and seemed genuinely happy – no, giddy – to be opening for U2 and promised all of us “the greatest night of our lives.” I also happened to be at the right place at the right time and watched the band’s “exit right” as the adorable young men all made their way right past me. A certain momentum had built and set the tone for what was next.

For the next thirty minutes or so, the crew, technical people, cameramen, roadies and a security team large enough to rival that of the President, prepared the stage for an unprecedented music and light show, something that felt once in a lifetime and yet incredibly alive and in the moment. We could all tell that something big was going to happen and the energy in the stadium generated a certain cohesive, happy vibe. At a time when the country, our country, feels so divided on so many critical issues, I sensed a certain relief knowing that the 20 somethings and the 40 somethings, the men and the women, the Democrats and the Republicans, the immigrant Americans and the native born Americans, the Catholics and the Sikhs, and everyone in between, all had one thing in common: we wanted to be rocked and we wanted it right now.

Not a moment too soon, the lights went down and smoke started to come out of the spaceship. David Bowie’s “Major Tom” blasted from the giant, surrounding speakers and the adventure began to sink in. “4…3…2…1…” To our right we could see that the band mates entered the stadium. Then, one by one, each entered the stage, starting with Larry, the drummer. Then Adam, Edge, and, finally, Bono. The crowd cheered and the people standing next to me were not only smiling and clapping but most, many in U2 gear, were also taking photographs. As the thousands of flashes went off, people wanted to capture the moment: to do anything so that it can be preserved and relived.

U2 opened the concert with “Breathe,” one of the songs off of the new No Line on the Horizon album. The title track followed and, after that, my favorite song, perhaps, ever, from this group of Irishmen, “Magnificent,” erupted from the speakers. This particular track pinpricked my soul for a multitude of reasons. Not the least of which is the human condition known as RBH – a recently broken heart, broken by an Irishman for whom, earlier this summer, I made a mix cd which began with this very song; a song the Irishman specifically said was “the perfect song” to articulate his feelings about us and what happened 12 years ago: “Only love, only love can leave such a mark; But only love, only love can heal such a scar.” And, as U2 performed it, in the present, one month after there is no more us, hearing it outside, on a stunning evening, with my sister next to me and 65,000 new friends, “Magnificent” helped in the mending process. It was finally time to let go and move on and I had the greatest (and biggest) support group on my side.

After one more track off of the new album, “Get On Your Boots,” the band began to give the audience what we really wanted – a cornucopia of songs that took us back to our childhoods, our college years, our first jobs, first apartments, first live-in loves, first grown-up failures and our first economic recession. Chances are that, for each audience member at least one song brought us back to a pivotal life moment – good or bad – and, when the whole world may have seemed to abandon any one of us, this band – on record, tape, cd or iPod – was and is still with us. We grew up on U2 and U2 grew up with us.

The song list included the following: “Where the Streets Have No Name,” “All That You Can’t Leave Behind,” “With or Without You,” “It’s a Beautiful Day,” “Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For,” “Stuck in Moment You Can’t Get Out Of,” “Vertigo (Uno, Dos, Tres, Catorse),” “Walk On” and “City of Blinding Lights,” a song not lost on anyone familiar with the stunning Chicago skyline at night. U2 then performed three tracks that the loyalists greatly appreciated: “Unforgettable Fire,” “Sunday, Bloody Sunday,” and the majestic “Bad.”

I would have absolutely loved to hear “All I Want is You,” but it didn’t make it to the song list. Neither did “Mysterious Ways,” “Desire” nor anything off of Zooropa. In fact, after a brief break, when the band resumed the stage, and performed “One,” it was the only song off Achtung Baby, a critically acclaimed album the band recorded in East Berlin just as the wall came down.

The most recent album was recorded in Morocco and U2’s geographical and global awareness translated itself into a video paying tribute to Iranian women, with a poem appearing on the large screen. Additionally, masks of an Asian freedom activist who has been under home arrest for the past two decades were passed out in advance and Bono asked everyone to put them on during a certain song. Personally, I could care less for the political messages. But, then, unless you live under a rock, you know that U2 is nothing if not politically active. Luckily, Bono and the band kept the politics to a minimum and focused on the music and on courting Chicago like a man on a first date trying to get some by the night’s end.

Bono must have mentioned the city’s name 100 times and, at one point, stated “We Irish like to think we’ve contributed something to your skyline… We (the Irish) are the wind in the Windy City.”

Before the first encore was over, U2 also played “Baby Light My Way” and asked the audience to take our cell phones out to create a constellation in the stadium. The last song of the first act was the mellow “Moment of Surrender.”

The second encore took on an electric feel, with Bono coming out on stage in a black jacket equipped with red laser beams pointing in various directions. “All you need is love,” he reminded us, “and a spaceship.” U2 then performed a techno version of “I’ll Go Crazy If I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight.” While not a fan of the original recording, the live performance kicked the proverbial ass on so many levels. My sis and I felt like we were in a Eurotrash techno club. To boot, Larry, now on portable bongos, Adam, Edge and Bono made excellent use of the 360 catwalk and paraded around the entire circumference of the stage, walking right in front us, bringing us to perfect, high-energy joy.

U2 finished the last set with the remaining songs off No Line on the Horizon, including “Unknown Caller,” “Stand Up Comedy,” “Cedars of Lebanon,” and “White as Snow.” I hear that Sunday’s show had three encores, but, then, Sunday’s audience did not witness the opening night of the U.S. tour.

By the end of the show, with the perfect cloudless, dark sky, the perfect cool, lake breeze and the perfect behind-the-catwalk spot that gave visibility to the perfect rock band, my cheeks were aching from smiling so much, my voice was sore from singing and shouting and my feet, in their sexy boots, were beyond numb.

At a time of so much life uncertainty, U2 had given all of us something concrete, something memorable and something truly magnificent.