Achtung, Baby

We Get to Carry Each Other

Long before they became infamous for foisting their music into your iPhone (for free) and evoking the scorn of an indignant nation, U2 were just four fresh-faced lads from Dublin. I first became aware of them around 12 years old, poring through my friend Zaheed’s sister’s record albums and discovering “War” and “Boy.” The cutting guitar of “I Will Follow,” the haunting refrain of “New Year’s Day,” and the urgent and desperate drums and wails of “Sunday Bloody Sunday” resonated deep within my soul. They instantly became my favorite band, and I would read anything and everything I could find about them.

I’d watch the “U2 Live at Red Rocks” special every single time that Night Flight (a super-cool show on the USA Network) would show it. I was so moved by the sight of Bono standing in the freezing rain, bellowing “NO WAR” and “WIPE YOUR TEARS AWAY” as the assembled throngs of fans held up flags and screamed their alliance with these peaceniks. I corresponded with fellow U2 fans from fan magazines, exchanging horrible copies of bootleg concerts and songs. U2 posters adorned my walls. It was a special feeling, as there weren’t too many U2 fans in my inner circle.

When The Joshua Tree was released, I was working at Musicland in the Florida Mall. It was a huge album, and the radio play that “With or Without You” commanded began to grow their fanbase. It was tough to keep the album in stock, with so many new U2 fans snatching it up. It was a weird feeling, suddenly being forced to share my special band with the rest of the world. There was a tiny bit of resentment…I mean, do these newfound fans know anything about Electric Co.? An Cat Dubh? Screw your “Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For,” this is MY band! Still, there was a part of me that was very happy for them to achieve this level of success. The concert film and album Rattle and Hum soon followed, and I’d be lying if I said that there wasn’t a sense of smug satisfaction that there was hardly anyone else in the theater when I saw it.

30 years ago, this week, a video on MTV shook me to my core. No, it wasn’t Madonna’s unplanned pregnancy anthem “Papa Don’t Preach,” although I did pause that video an embarrassing amount of times to watch the tiniest bit of her areola peek through her top. It was “The Fly” by a band that I thought resembled U2, but there’s just no fucking way that this Eurotrash disco piece of shit song could have come from these spiritual and soulful boys. No. Fucking. Way.

Bono, preening for the camera and sporting a ridiculous pair of sunglasses, singing “it’s no secret that a conscience can sometimes be a pest”? THIS IS NOT MY U2. I remember my friend, Striker, calling me as soon as the video was over to ask me what in the hell happened to my favorite band. I didn’t know, but I didn’t like it. Still, I had to buy and listen to the entire Achtung Baby album. I saw that Flood was one of the producers. I recognized his name from some Depeche Mode remixes, and I wondered just what in the hell brought him to Achtung Baby. I couldn’t get my head around this departure of an album, and I definitely resented the band for straying from the path of near-Christian rock, abandoning spirituality in the name of…what, exactly?

I can write off my extreme reaction by saying that I was in my twenties and lacked the kind of emotional depth needed to appreciate a band’s desire to evolve. When you think you “know” a band, you have expectations. This is unreasonable. Despite what YOU think about a band, they have every right to grow and change. We tend to be disappointed when we attach expectations to others. When I listen to Achtung Baby now, I hear a band that had outgrown its previous identity and was searching for a new one. I hear brilliant songs. With the benefit of time and wisdom, I fully comprehend what they were going for with this departure of an album. It has become one of, if not my absolute favorite U2 album.

Years later, I was gifted a gigantic coffee table book called “U2 By U2.” Hundreds of pages of the band in their own words. It was in reading this that I discovered the beauty of the song “One.” To most, it appears to be about a romantic relationship. It’s not. It’s about the inner turmoil, anguish, and confusion that nearly brought about the demise of the band itself. “We’re one, but we’re not the same.” This song, to me, exemplifies not only what U2 is all about…but it also speaks to the incredible opportunity we have as human beings to be there for each other. “We get to carry each other.”

Bands evolve, change, and break up. Sometimes, they force music into your mobile device. Occasionally, they’ll go in directions that you may find hard to understand. It’s okay to feel alienated or put off by this, but it’s important that you at least respect the vision of an artist you once enjoyed and/or respected. There’s a lesson to be learned here about expectations. Applying them to others will lead to your own lack of fulfillment, as well as your frustration. It’s okay to have expectations for yourself. It’s not okay to attach them to bands that are on their own journey, and this is one of the lessons I learned from U2’s phenomenal departure of an album, Achtung Baby.