Pro Bono

Three nights with U2 at the FleetCenter in Boston

NIGHT ONE:
HEART-SHAPED ROCK

" `The Greatest Rock and Roll Band in the World,' you know what that's about, don't you?" asked Bono on night one of U2's sold-out four-night stand at the FleetCenter in Boston last week. "It's about growing up in the worst part of Dublin, where there was no chance. It comes from being uncool. The Irish aren't cool. They're hot." This last bit provoked a cheer from the audience, which seemed to obscure the point the singer had begun to make. And though the language was muddled, this was as close to an apology for his vanity as he would muster.

A few weeks ago, on the occasion of U2's sweep in the annual Phoenix/FNX Best Music Poll, I mentioned that I detect in All That You Can't Leave Behind a profound empathy that trumps the self-satisfied sympathy I've always associated with the group. But that empathy just doesn't come to them naturally. The monster ego -- be it born of poverty or of wealth -- is U2's driving force, and it was present in their performance from the moment they took the stage.

It was a good stage: stripped to basics, with the band playing in the round, the sole design gimmick being a valentine-shaped catwalk that reached out to hug a portion of the general-admission audience on the floor. The tour has been dubbed "Elevation"; a better title, to paraphrase a song that opening act PJ Harvey didn't play, might have been "To Bring You Our Love."

U2 strode out to an adoring welcome while the house lights were still on -- a rare and simple gesture, the implications of which were as easy to read as Bono's puffed-out chest and exaggerated swagger. A loop of the song "Elevation" was already playing, and the band took it from there, laying into the song's four chords with the cockiness of a gang who still feel they has something left to prove.

If there was any complaint to be made, it was that U2 oversold themselves. But that's what makes 'em work. Plenty of bands can fill hockey rinks, but few can command them in the manner of U2. The two-hour set was doused with two decades' worth of hits anchored by the new album: Behind's transcendent first single, "Beautiful Day," then back into the catalogue for "Until the End of the World" and "Mysterious Ways," forward to the new gospel-tinged "Stuck in a Moment" followed by "Kite," then back to "Gone." Only a too loose rearrangement of "One" in the second encore disappointed, and that might just be because I've been listening to Johnny Cash's version a lot lately.

Bono kissed everything in sight, from the hands of the girls in the front row to the Edge's prickly face. There was a moment during the rapturous melancholy of "With or Without You" when time became confused: spinning floodlights gave the illusion of a massive forward motion even though everything else was standing relatively still. Bono caressed a note with his arms outstretched as the crowd roared and reached for him in uncanny unison. Like a lover's kiss, it seemed to go on forever.
-- Carly Carioli

NIGHT TWO:
ONE LIFE, ONE CONCERT

So here I was, the Phoenix's venerable and not exactly hip Arts editor, on my way to my first big rock concert last Wednesday and primed for adventure. I wound up hoofing it down streets with no name, taking in the atmosphere as I passed the Grand Canal, where the patrons were spilling onto the sidewalk and "Pride (in the Name of Love)" was blasting from the speakers. Once inside the FleetCenter, I realized that the "Elevation" of this tour would apply not just to our spirits but to the prices in the Fan Zones: $20 for a cap or program, $30 for a T-shirt, $65 for some sort of pullover. Not to mention the price on my ticket: $130. Pierre Boulez and the Vienna Philharmonic at Carnegie Hall back in March went for $76 and were, sorry lads, more rewarding. On the other hand, a first-balcony seat at Pops Opening Night last month was $135, and I heard better music at the FleetCenter. What's more, the guy in the dalmatian suit turning cartwheels down on the floor had it all over John Lithgow in his kangaroo outfit.

And I was getting to watch "the best band on the planet" -- even if Bono didn't address that issue Wednesday. I did wonder why the best band on the planet have to put so much effort into milking the crowd, and why the show had to look more like a WWF evening than a musical event. But Bono bounced all night and belted when he wanted to. "Elevation" and "Beautiful Day" lost some of their rhythmic kinesis, the unsettling images of "Until the End of the World" got lost in the roar (at least there was the Judas kiss Bono planted on the Edge), and there was no "Peace on Earth." On the upside, weaker All That You Can't Leave Behind tracks like "Stuck in a Moment" and "New York" and "In a Little While" benefitted from the arena approach (i.e., pumped-up music, unintelligible lyrics), and the closing "Walk On" was positively anthemic. I passed on sending the president a postcard urging international debt forgiveness. ("Will he be able to read it?" "Don't worry, there are people who will read it to him. Maybe you could also ask him to buy Jenna a beer.") But for all my quibbling I couldn't pass the last Fan Zone without buying one of those elevating orange and gray T-shirts. Stuck in a U2 moment, I guess.

-- Jeffrey Gantz

NIGHT FOUR:
SATURDAY-NIGHT SPECIAL

The fourth and final night of U2's "Elevation" tour stop was, by Bono's own addition, the band's 29th Boston-area gig, presumably going all the way back to the pre-War days of battling their way through crappy club gigs in the pre-alternative, post-punk early '80s. He mentioned this stray fact prior to the new soul searcher "Kite," the eighth number in a rousing and enjoyable 23-song set -- not that anyone was expecting anything less from the best arena-rock band currently in the arena-rock business.

The capacity crowd answered back with a roar of approval, though he'd probably have gotten the same response if he'd just read aloud from the phone book. Didn't he try that two tours ago? Anyway, the theme this time around for U2 seems to have something to do with returning to their humble roots, even if it would be hard to find anyone who remembers Bono and his cohort ever projecting anything less than pride (in the name of love and all kinds of other noble stuff). To that end, they've downsized in a big way -- from football stadiums like Foxboro to hockey/basketball arenas like the Fleet, and from the massive technicolor video-screen backdrop of "Pop Mart" to the quartet of black-and-white single screens that hovered above the "Elevation" stage. If nothing else, it made the cavernous FleetCenter seem an intimate venue. (It also made the little stripped-down mini-set featuring "Desire" that the band performed "unplugged"-style at the front of the heart-shaped ramp -- a conceit that made sense on the "Pop Mart" tour -- seem a little redundant.)

Arriving with the house lights on -- a simple device that's effective precisely because nobody ever does it -- and wearing what passes for street clothes for stars of their magnitude, Bono, Edge, Larry, and Adam set themselves right to the task of crafting a transcendent experience everyone there. That included Elvis Costello, who, if he was indeed hovering around the soundboard as rumored, got to hear Bono sneak lyrics from "Pump It Up" into "Elevation" and from "Allison" into "Bad." At his most effusive, Bono has always reminded me of that old Steve Martin bit where he thanks each and every member of the audience. And by now working the crowd is so effortless for him that he had to resort to scuffling with a security guard who seemed to be trying to keep some guy in the crowd from getting access to the stage just to challenge himself. Of course, the brief altercation, which ended with the guy from the crowd taking a victory lap around the stage, could easily have been scripted. Either way, it had the desired impact: it made this Saturday night seem special, and, for a second, we all felt that if he coulda, he woulda lifted each and every one of us up there on stage with him to share in the glory that is U2.

-- Matt Ashare