Bono irradiates the stage when U2 make a surprise appearance at the Island 50 concert at the Shepherd's Bush Empire.
By Adam Sweeting
Last Updated: 10:30AM BST 29 May 2009
Restrained: Bono and the Edge from U2 vanished after their surprise set at the Shepherd's Bush Empire
Even the most ardent genre detective might find it a Himalayan task to get their head around the history of Island Records on parade at Shepherd's Bush this week, as it bounces from Kid Creole to Paul Weller, Grace Jones to Aswad, Steel Pulse to Amy Winehouse.
In the absence of a definitive house style in the vein of a Stax or a Motown, the theme to emerge most strongly is the way the label has been its own global village, generating a private ethos more potent than any single artist. Except perhaps U2, the band who grew so big that they swallowed chunks of the label whole.
Last night's show was headlined by Yusuf, formerly Cat Stevens, but the pre-show buzz was all about U2's none too secret performance. Having been on the receiving end of, frankly, well-deserved abuse for commandeering most of the BBC's bandwidth and technical resources to plug their previous album, the '2 were perhaps wary of looking like the blundering elephant that capsized the family canoe, so they kept their appearance studiously loose and low-key.
They smuggled themselves in under the guise of an encore from Afro-boogieist Baaba Maal, who had already been warming up the stage for over an hour with his polyrhythmic 13-piece band. Did we want more, demanded MC Count Prince Miller (a ringer for the actor Lawrence Fishburn). Speaking for myself, actually no, but having made a commendably brief speech about peace, togetherness and ending conflict in Africa, Maal began to croon the lyrics from U2's most anguished ballad One. Before you knew it, Bono had scampered to the microphone to join him, followed onstage by his band mates.
Lighting up at the sound of applause Bono instantly irradiated the stage with his outsized showmanship. Wrapping his arms around Baaba, he blasted his way through One, which merged seamlessly into Bob Marley's One Love. Then suddenly, Maal was gone and forgotten, leaving U2 to crank out an acoustic version of Vertigo, The Edge scrubbing brutally at his guitar while Larry Mullen battered a set of bongos behind him.
But restraint was the order of the evening and here U2 tactfully vanished before the Empire began to morph into a mini-Nuremberg. We had to wait half an hour – during which veteran hacks, Island employees from several decades and wandering managers and agents gossiped in the bars – before Bono reappeared, and that was only to introduce Yusuf in eulogistic terms (seer, sage, prophet, songwriting genius, etc).
The reborn Yusuf cut a philosophical and sober figure, though his new album Roadsinger is a woefully subdued affair compared to the yearning, poignant music he made in his chart-busting heyday. But as his pre-song announcements were submerged under waves of shrieking and applause, it was obvious that the prodigal singer/songwriter makes the perfect great-uncle to the entire Island family.
telegraph
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