[ Golden Gater Online - March 4, 1997 ]
Christopher Kennedy
Staff writer
With their eighth studio album, "Pop," arriving in stores today, U2 has not so much reinvented themselves as rediscovered themselves.
Forget all that hype you've been force-fed about the "New U2;" the tweeker-style close-cropped haircuts, the sheen of their "new look" glitter and polyester attire, the techno overtones of the first single "Discotheque," and its silly, Village People-inspired video.
U2 has actually managed to put out a record for their fans, rather than the evaporating rave circuit.
Easily one of this spring's most eagerly anticipated rock releases, Pop is a record that will surprise the band's fans, who may have been disillusioned and alienated by all the misleading pre-release hoopla.
Part of that hoopla stretched out to South of Market last Wednesday night at Kate O'Brien's Irish Bar on Howard Street. The lights were dimmed, the mirror ball was spinning and the Guinness draft was flowing in anticipation of a record-release party thrown in Pop's honor.
The event was produced by Paul Andersen, 29, an SF State Political Science grad student and avid U2 fan.
Andersen was originally planning on throwing a party "for friends and whoever" the day of the album's release.
"There aren't many albums that constitute an actual 'event' when they are released," he said.
Andersen decided on a whim to contact local Polygram record executives, and was pleasantly surprised when they agreed to supply him with an advance copy of Pop and other U2-related promotional items.
His friends at the pub were more than happy to provide both the upstairs portion of the building and soundboard equipment. Andersen served as DJ, host and doorman for a quaint gathering of curious fans willing to pay a $5 cover to be among the first in the Bay Area to listen to Pop in its entirety.
As post-modern as it is, Pop is not a dance record. Repeat. Pop is not a dance record.
Despite all efforts the band has made to try and con the public into thinking otherwise -- from the whirring, bass-driven sound of the first single, to their kitschy press conference from inside a K-mart to promote the $60-a-ticket tour -- U2 fans can now breathe a collective sigh of relief.
"I remember first hearing 'Discotheque' and thinking 'oh no, this can't be true...this isn't right,'" said SF State business student Todd Harmon. "It reminded me off all that forgettable 80s dance pop, like the Information Society."
Harmon got into U2 when they burst onto the mid-80s music scene, propelled into the stadium circuit by the success of the largely undanceable Joshua Tree album.
"Most of their albums take a while to get used to though," Harmon said. "Whatever single is played on the radio is not necessarily the album's best track, or even one of them."
This is especially true of Pop.
The word was that this was going to be a techno album, a trip-hop experiment that would cash in on the electronica craze generated by bands like Prodigy, Underworld and the Chemical Brothers.
After old U2 pal Brian Eno dropped out of the recording sessions, the band enlisted DJs Howie B (Bjork, Massive Attack) and Nellee Hooper (Soul II Soul) to collaborate on mixing loops and samples into the record.
The fact is, 1993's Zooropa was a much more experimentally dangerous record than this.
The album does start off with a propulsive sonic boom, the first three cuts bubbling with swirling, industrial guitars and loping beats. Beginning with the muscular robotics of "Discotheque," the album bounces along for a good 15 minutes, through the bass-heavy groove of "Do You Feel Loved," and eventually culminating with the frenetic, breakneck assault of "Mofo."
But wait...just as the listener is resigned to reaching for the ecstasy, something oddly beautiful happens. The howling electronics and violent rhythm tracks give way to a gospel-tinged ballad reminiscent of the virtuous glory days of The Joshua Tree. It introduces a thematic approach that lingers throughout the album, being the spiritual identity crisis the Christian band has wrestled with since Boy in 1980. In "If God Will Send His Angels," we have the disillusioned Bono of old wondering out loud: "God has got his phone off the hook babe. Would he even pick up if he could?"
Despite the warm, Kinks-like melody of the next track, the infectious folk-pop song "Staring at the Sun," Bono can't help but wonder "God is good, but will he listen?" By the album's end, Bono's cynicism has reached a point of disenchantment bordering on blasphemy in "Wake Up, Dead Man," when he vents his frustrations at the Almighty himself, demanding explanations for this "fucked up world" we live in.
Following the album's first three powerhouse tracks, the rest of the record seems to slowly build to this spooky, blues-driven showdown that cleverly mixes the Edge's spaghetti western guitars and Bono's distorted vocals with a smart sample of the famous women's choir Le Mystere Des Voix Bulgares.
In the song "Last Night on Earth," we get the token U2-does-Oasis-doing-the-Beatles, which includes a sly sample from late jazz trumpeter Don Cherry. There is the litany on American consumerism ("The Playboy Mansion"), and decay ("Miami"). There is also the gratuitous U2 ballad, with Bono breathing heavy and moaning his way through his best Chris Isaak swoon in "If You Wear That Velvet Dress."
The good news is that Pop doesn't live up to its name. Not exactly, anyway. It is refreshing to hear that U2 was not sucked into the infrastructure of the commercial alternative empire they helped to create.
It is good to know that U2 is still as pretentious as hell, still setting trends rather than following them. The group returned in some form to the sometimes controversially agnostic Christian roots which made them such a big deal in the first place, rather than catering to a slowly deteriorating rave culture.
This probably isn't their finest moment, and it is an album unlikely to go down in the annals of rock history. But for the moment, it's really good and worth your money, because for a throwaway record, it is one everyone will be listening to well into the summer.
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[ Golden Gater - March 4, 1997 ]