FROM 'GOOD VOICE' TO GREAT VOICE
Bono rose from humble roots to rock icon to king of celebrity activists
By JONATHAN TAKIFF
takiffj@phillynews.com 215-854-5960
ONCE UPON a time, way back in the idealistic 1960s and '70s, almost all rock 'n' roll musicians thought they could change the world with a song.
Since then, sadly, rampant cynicism and fatigue and age have robbed most of that lot of their passion and commitment. But one guy, Paul David Hewson, better known to the world as Bono, still believes in the power of song to shake and remake the world.
"All you need is three chords and the truth," he famously said. And the funny thing is, after almost 30 years of listening and watching him work, it's hard not tobelieve in him, too, because he has been so effective.
Tomorrow, Bono is being honored here for his good work as a musician-statesman and reformer with the prestigious 2007 Liberty Medal, to be bestowed on the artist at the National Constitution Center.
Born May 10, 1960, and raised in a middle-class suburb of Dublin, Ireland, Hewson was the son of a Protestant mother and a Roman Catholic father. While he didn't align with either religion, he grew up with a strong sense of spirituality and respect for all people, running counter to the oft-warring nature of Irish religious/political sects which split north versus south in his childhood and early adult years.
An early tragedy reinforced his sense of life's frailty when, at age 14, Paul saw his mother, Iris, die of a brain hemorrhage during her own father's funeral. Several songs from U2 albums, including "I Will Follow," "Out of Control" and "Tomorrow" focus on this loss.
The kid found emotional, intellectual and creative support at Mount Temple Comprehensive, a multidenominational secondary (junior-high and high-school equivalent) academy. There, free expression of ideas and individuality were encouraged. And did Paul ever speak and sing out — with such brio and sheer volume that one of his mates gave him the nickname "Bonovox." It was the brand name of a hearing aid, suggesting both (a) he deafened people by his rants; and (b) was in need of a hearing aid himself. The tag grew on the guy, though, when he learned it loosely translated from Latin was "good voice." Eventually it was shortened to Bono, even before he had a band, and he's answered to it — even among his family and friends — ever since.
U2 was spawned at Mount Temple. Fledgling drummer Larry Mullen Jr. instigated the project, asking the school's principal if a rehearsal space could be found for him and some classmates. Bono was initially enlisted as guitarist and singer, although as another bandmate (David Howell Evans — nicknamed "The Edge") — got more proficient, Bono would pass off those strumming duties. In the video documentary "God's Favourite Son," the guys' history teacher, Donald Moxham, recalls that he was asked by the principal to be the band's unofficial supervisor.
Moxham had already seen a performance spark in Bono, he says, from his demeanor in the classroom. "He was an extremely dynamic, interested student, challenging in a very positive way."
U2 developed in the late 1970s, a time when hippie bands like the Electric Tea Pot were still brewing in Ireland, while punk was taking over in London. The group kind of broached the two worlds. "We never sat down and thought, 'Wow, this would be a great sound,'" Mullen would recall. "We were basically influenced by things like seeing the [Sex] Pistols or the Clash or the Jam on 'Top of the Pops' [a London-based TV show.] We came out of the hippie-dippy thing into the new wave, as such, so we were fairly directionless."
Chris De Whalley, the CBS A&R man who produced the first U2 recordings in 1979, says the group's appropriation and polishing up of punk was similar to The Boomtown Rats, their Dublin big brothers whose leader, Bob Geldof, would inspire not only the showmanship and business strategies of Bono and mates, but also, eventually, his political/social activist mindset.
At the start, Whalley recalls: "They weren't brilliant. They were loud and fast and clattering along. They were sort of a division two new-wave band. Bono was particularly outstanding. I guess he was mesmerizing. The attention was entirely about him and him only. He had this whole vocabulary of dramatic gestures on top of the standard shakes that you expect from a lead singer."
This writer felt the same way, watching the group's Philadelphia debut performance at the Bijou Café in December 1980, to mark the release of their "Boy" album.
The rhythm section was sloppy as hell, The Edge's guitar work intermittently interesting, and the patchwork quality of the lyrics (themed on youth and adolescence) reflected how U2's early work had been largely improvised in the studio.
But some tunes, like the standout "I Will Follow," had an arresting, ring-them-bells spirituality that was breathtaking, that literally shook the house. And Bono had such personal charisma, such passion, such a swaggering air of the poet, that he could have kept our attention reciting listings from the phone book.
With their second album, 1981's "October," U2 delved more deeply into religion with songs like "Gloria" and "Rejoice." While not a huge hit, it arguably jump-started the contemporary Christian-rock movement and solidified a fan base for the band among true believers — although then and since, Bono has refused to characterize U2 as part of any particular music scene.
Then came "War" in '83 — the first U2 album that actively reflected a political/social reformist agenda and trumpeted their Irishness to the world, as Bono and his mates raged against homeland violence in classics like "Sunday, Bloody Sunday" and "New Year's Day." America started to believe in and embrace the group in a big way — with triumphant shows here at the Tower Theater.
"The [American] audiences are wide open, quite naive and up for you," Bono said at the time. "They're not cynical the way a London audience can be cynical."
All heaven and hell broke loose with "The Unforgettable Fire" in 1984, from whence came their hugely popular "Pride (In the Name of Love)," a ragged but much appreciated homage to the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and the nonviolent civil-rights movement.
By this point they'd been elevated to arena headliners, and then, the following July, stole the show at "Live Aid," the Bob Geldof-sparked, two-continent concert for African famine relief and Bono's coming-out party as a champion for the world's oppressed.
That appearance changed the band's perception of their place in the big picture, noted Gerry Ryan, Ireland's top DJ on RTE radio and longtime friend of the group, speaking in a "God's Favourite Son" interview.
"They understood if you're gonna have 80,000 people standing and cheering and singing along with your songs, they've got to be big. That was their trip. Whatever skills they had, whatever they were going to sing about, whatever passion they had, it was important. And what was really important — that it was big. The sound was huge. At the heart you had soul, but also had soul on a gigantic level."
Following Live Aid, Bono and wife, Ali, spent a month working in war and drought devastated Ethiopia — doing literally everything from "shoveling s---," he'd recall, to writing uplifting songs for the children to sing as they did their chores. From this experience, the die was cast for Bono to embrace his calling as an "aggressive passivist" in song, word and deed. He'd also study up on and trumpet the causes of Third World debt relief, war's youngest refugees, and environmental threats. The pressure to create another album or tour could never stop him.
Nor, even, could the threat of bodily harm. In 1987, Provisional IRA paramilitaries threatened to kidnap the little (5 feet, 7 inches) big man for his onstage condemnations of their violence in his homeland.
Bono had to live up to his name. He'd use his music and appearances as a bully pulpit, to remind the world of corruption and injustices, and shame politicians to respond with real action, rather than hollow rhetoric. The life and work of reggae legend Bob Marley would also offer a template for Bono, he suggested. "Bob Marley is one of the great, great heroes of mine. He did whatever he wanted with his music. He had his faith, his belief in God, or Jah as he called it. He had no problem combining that with his sexuality and the sensuality of some of his love songs.
He was tender and open and politically a hard-ass. He had those three dimensions and it's everything I want from U2."
Clearly, many artists — from John Lennon to the Dixie Chicks — have worn out their welcome, shrunk their fan base for pushing personal causes too hard. But Bono's skill and passion, combined with that quintessentially anthemic, verging on metaphysical music of his colleagues have only solidified U2's bond with listeners.
As the band closes in on three decades, they remain one of most successful and important musical phenomena of modern times. *
philly.com
30.9.07
Bono: A rocker, activist or both?
By Dan DeLuca
PHILADELPHIA INQUIRER
Article Launched: 09/30/2007 03:05:45 AM PDT
When Bono was but a boy, the rock-star-to-be heard John Lennon whispering inspirational words in his ear.
"That changed the way the world looked outside my bedroom window when I was 12 years old," says Bono, lead singer of U2 and co-founder of DATA (Debt, AIDS, Trade, Africa), a Washington-based advocacy group.
On Thursday, Bono and DATA were honored with the Liberty Medal at the National Constitution Center in Philadelphia, whose president, Joseph M. Torsella, cited Bono for proving through his activism "that the office of 'citizen' is the most important in the world."
The award puts the 47-year-old Nobel Peace Prize nominee in rarefied company -- for more than 18 years, the award has gone to statesmen and justices, world leaders and scientists, to Nelson Mandela and Vaclav Havel, former presidents Bill Clinton and George H.W. Bush, now chairman of the Constitution Center.
On the phone from his home outside Dublin, Bono talks about the African triple killers of AIDS, malaria and extreme poverty. And he says accepting this medal in Philadelphia, the American home of both Live Aid and Live 8, is "a very big deal."
"In the American body politic," he says, "there's no poetry like the poetry of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution."
'Sick of the sound'
Bono doesn't just talk: He speechifies. He may have a reputation as a pompous world-saver, but in conversation he's relentlessly charming and self-critical, referring to himself as "annoying," adding: "I'm sick of the sound of my own voice. I'm not kidding you." And he mocks the trademark tinted glasses that serve as his Superman's cape: "Without them, I'm an amorphous mass."
He says there's a symbiotic relationship between his day job as frontman for one of the biggest rock bands in the world and his second career "moonlighting" as a celebrity agitator lobbying for aid and debt relief for Africa, "a magical, extraordinary place."
Though tired of hearing his own brogue, he vows to continue to employ it: "Music gave me a soapbox, and I'm going to use it," he says with a laugh. "It gave me a platform and a loud-hailer (bullhorn). It's put me in a place where people are foolish enough to listen to what I have to say. So use the moment."
U2 rose to superstardom in the 1980s with heroic stadium-size anthems such as "I Will Follow" and "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For." While his band mate the Edge's guitars rang out, Bono was the guy in the mullet literally waving a white flag. "I still am," he quips, "but with a better haircut."
U2 played at Live Aid, Bob Geldof's 1985 African famine charity concert. The next year Bono and his wife, Alison (the couple have four children), traveled to Ethiopia to work in an orphanage for six weeks.
"Once you become a witness," he says, "it becomes very hard to walk away, knowing you stand a good chance of landing a punch on the problem."
He didn't get deeply involved in African issues until the late '90s, when he joined the Jubilee Movement, a lobbying effort to erase the debt of the world's poorest countries and free up money for health care and education.
A transformation
That marked the transition of Bono -- real name Paul Hewson, but long known by a version of his teenage nickname, Bono Vox, which loosely translates from Latin as "good voice" -- from rosy-eyed idealist to real-world pragmatist. He started hanging out with guys such as Jeffrey Sachs, the economist who heads the UN Millennium Project, with whom he is pictured in GQ as two of 15 men "we believe will change our future."
Bono says his "least favorite verb in the English language is 'to dream.' I think these years that we're living in are about doing. Even Nike ... figured that out."
So what's he done lately? Besides "reapplying for the job of best band in the world," beginning with U2's "All That You Can't Leave Behind" in 2000, he's been working as a professional persuader with leaders from George W. Bush to George Soros.
"Many of these stars are counseled by their agents to show a human side," says Sen. Richard Durbin, D-Ill., who has worked with the rocker on global AIDS issues. "Bono's different. He's clearly committed, and he knows what he's talking about."
And he uses his celebrity, Durbin says, as a super-lobbyist on both sides of the ideological divide. "He can get in to see the president, or Jesse Helms. I don't know that anybody can say no to Bono."
Share of critics
That's because the guy who co-founded DATA, and the anti-poverty One campaign, isn't just another activist. He's Bono, who joined with Geldof in organizing Live 8, guest-edited the July issue of Vanity Fair on Africa, and spearheaded the product (Red) campaign, the alliance with retailers such as Apple and the Gap to raise money to supply antiretroviral drugs for HIV-positive people in Africa.
Along the way, the singer skewered by the Mekons in 1989 as "the Dublin messiah, scattering crumbs" has come in for plenty of flak. Paul Theroux, in a New York Times op-ed piece called "The Rock Star's Burden," argued that by treating Africa as a place that needs to be saved, Westerners do more harm than good. And (Red) has been attacked for making self-satisfied consumers feel they can eradicate AIDS by buying a T-shirt at the Gap.
Bono, a former teenage chess prodigy who tries to think ahead, has heard the criticisms. "They say the real route out of extreme poverty is to grow the middle class. Growth, opportunity, commerce. I agree with them. But having been in rooms where we see people begging for their lives, where there's not even rage in their eyes, I have to ask: What are we going to do in the meantime?"
For his activism to be effective, Bono knows that U2, which is working on a new album with producers Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois, must make music that resonates.
"There's enormous pressure to be relevant," says the singer, who feels that "great music is written by people who are either running toward or away from God." (Count him among the former.) "Which is different than successful, and a lot harder."
contracostatimes
By Dan DeLuca
PHILADELPHIA INQUIRER
Article Launched: 09/30/2007 03:05:45 AM PDT
When Bono was but a boy, the rock-star-to-be heard John Lennon whispering inspirational words in his ear.
"That changed the way the world looked outside my bedroom window when I was 12 years old," says Bono, lead singer of U2 and co-founder of DATA (Debt, AIDS, Trade, Africa), a Washington-based advocacy group.
On Thursday, Bono and DATA were honored with the Liberty Medal at the National Constitution Center in Philadelphia, whose president, Joseph M. Torsella, cited Bono for proving through his activism "that the office of 'citizen' is the most important in the world."
The award puts the 47-year-old Nobel Peace Prize nominee in rarefied company -- for more than 18 years, the award has gone to statesmen and justices, world leaders and scientists, to Nelson Mandela and Vaclav Havel, former presidents Bill Clinton and George H.W. Bush, now chairman of the Constitution Center.
On the phone from his home outside Dublin, Bono talks about the African triple killers of AIDS, malaria and extreme poverty. And he says accepting this medal in Philadelphia, the American home of both Live Aid and Live 8, is "a very big deal."
"In the American body politic," he says, "there's no poetry like the poetry of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution."
'Sick of the sound'
Bono doesn't just talk: He speechifies. He may have a reputation as a pompous world-saver, but in conversation he's relentlessly charming and self-critical, referring to himself as "annoying," adding: "I'm sick of the sound of my own voice. I'm not kidding you." And he mocks the trademark tinted glasses that serve as his Superman's cape: "Without them, I'm an amorphous mass."
He says there's a symbiotic relationship between his day job as frontman for one of the biggest rock bands in the world and his second career "moonlighting" as a celebrity agitator lobbying for aid and debt relief for Africa, "a magical, extraordinary place."
Though tired of hearing his own brogue, he vows to continue to employ it: "Music gave me a soapbox, and I'm going to use it," he says with a laugh. "It gave me a platform and a loud-hailer (bullhorn). It's put me in a place where people are foolish enough to listen to what I have to say. So use the moment."
U2 rose to superstardom in the 1980s with heroic stadium-size anthems such as "I Will Follow" and "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For." While his band mate the Edge's guitars rang out, Bono was the guy in the mullet literally waving a white flag. "I still am," he quips, "but with a better haircut."
U2 played at Live Aid, Bob Geldof's 1985 African famine charity concert. The next year Bono and his wife, Alison (the couple have four children), traveled to Ethiopia to work in an orphanage for six weeks.
"Once you become a witness," he says, "it becomes very hard to walk away, knowing you stand a good chance of landing a punch on the problem."
He didn't get deeply involved in African issues until the late '90s, when he joined the Jubilee Movement, a lobbying effort to erase the debt of the world's poorest countries and free up money for health care and education.
A transformation
That marked the transition of Bono -- real name Paul Hewson, but long known by a version of his teenage nickname, Bono Vox, which loosely translates from Latin as "good voice" -- from rosy-eyed idealist to real-world pragmatist. He started hanging out with guys such as Jeffrey Sachs, the economist who heads the UN Millennium Project, with whom he is pictured in GQ as two of 15 men "we believe will change our future."
Bono says his "least favorite verb in the English language is 'to dream.' I think these years that we're living in are about doing. Even Nike ... figured that out."
So what's he done lately? Besides "reapplying for the job of best band in the world," beginning with U2's "All That You Can't Leave Behind" in 2000, he's been working as a professional persuader with leaders from George W. Bush to George Soros.
"Many of these stars are counseled by their agents to show a human side," says Sen. Richard Durbin, D-Ill., who has worked with the rocker on global AIDS issues. "Bono's different. He's clearly committed, and he knows what he's talking about."
And he uses his celebrity, Durbin says, as a super-lobbyist on both sides of the ideological divide. "He can get in to see the president, or Jesse Helms. I don't know that anybody can say no to Bono."
Share of critics
That's because the guy who co-founded DATA, and the anti-poverty One campaign, isn't just another activist. He's Bono, who joined with Geldof in organizing Live 8, guest-edited the July issue of Vanity Fair on Africa, and spearheaded the product (Red) campaign, the alliance with retailers such as Apple and the Gap to raise money to supply antiretroviral drugs for HIV-positive people in Africa.
Along the way, the singer skewered by the Mekons in 1989 as "the Dublin messiah, scattering crumbs" has come in for plenty of flak. Paul Theroux, in a New York Times op-ed piece called "The Rock Star's Burden," argued that by treating Africa as a place that needs to be saved, Westerners do more harm than good. And (Red) has been attacked for making self-satisfied consumers feel they can eradicate AIDS by buying a T-shirt at the Gap.
Bono, a former teenage chess prodigy who tries to think ahead, has heard the criticisms. "They say the real route out of extreme poverty is to grow the middle class. Growth, opportunity, commerce. I agree with them. But having been in rooms where we see people begging for their lives, where there's not even rage in their eyes, I have to ask: What are we going to do in the meantime?"
For his activism to be effective, Bono knows that U2, which is working on a new album with producers Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois, must make music that resonates.
"There's enormous pressure to be relevant," says the singer, who feels that "great music is written by people who are either running toward or away from God." (Count him among the former.) "Which is different than successful, and a lot harder."
contracostatimes
29.9.07
Sera - To fight for what? If it is without wanting; who will protect us?
Legião Urbana — "Urban Legion" in Portuguese — is one of the most successful rock bands in Brazil's history. Originally created in 1983, the band continued to exist until 1996, with the death of its vocalist, Renato Russo. Many elements helped shape the identity of Legião Urbana. Consciously or not, Renato Russo, the main singer, was heavily influenced by The Smiths, particularly Morrissey, in his extremely personal lyrics and idiosyncratic on-stage performance. He was also influenced by Joy Division's Ian Curtis. Thematically, Russo and the other members were also influenced by literature, especially that of Portuguese poet Luís de Camões, whose poetry is featured in more than one of the band's songs. Despite the death of Russo and the group's disbanding, Legião Urbana continues to be the third best-selling artist in Brazil, with approximately 350,000 albums sold per year as of 2003. With more than 13 million records sold, the band continues to be very well-known among young Brazilians. Legião Urbana was, and remains, loved because of the songs remain timeless and whose words told of many aspects: love, spiritualism, politics, family, sex, drugs. The raw reality of these issues struck a chord with many, including Russo himself. A well-known characteristic of the band is that they made very few music videos, and by the low quality of the few ones they agreed to make. Renato Russo hated to make them. Renato Russo was the former creator of the band, vocalist, played guitars, bass or keyboards, and wrote or co-wrote most of the band's songs.
(Portuguese lyrics for Sera)
Será
Letra: Renato Russo
Música: Dado Villa-Lobos/Renato Russo/Marcelo Bonfá
Tire suas mãos de mim
Eu não pertenço a você
Não é me dominado assim
Que você vai me entender
Eu posso estar sozinho
Mas eu sei muito bem aonde estou
Você pode até duvidar
Acho que isso não é amor.
Será isso imaginação?
Será que nada vai acontecer?
Será que é tudo isso em vão?
Será que vamos conseguir vencer?
Nos perderemos entre monstros
Da nossa própria criação
Serão noites inteiras
Talvez por medo da escuridão
Ficaremos acordados
Imaginando alguma solução
Pra que esse nosso egoísmo
Não destrua nosso coração.
Brigar pra quê
Se é sem querer
Quem é que vai
Nos proteger?
Será que vamos ter
Que responder
Pelos erros a mais
Eu e você?
(My English version for Sera)
Will be
Lyrics: Renato Russo
Music: Data Villa-Lobos/Renato Russo/Marcelo Bonfá
Takes off your hands of me
I don't belong you
It's not dominated me thus
That you will understand me
Maybe I'm alone
But I know very well where I am
You can until doubting
I find that this is not love.
Will be this one imagination?
Will be that nothing its to happen?
Will be that everything in vain?
Will be that we'll keep winning?
We will lose ourselves between monsters
From our proper creation
It will be entire nights
Perhaps from fear of the darkness
We will be waked up
Imagining some solution
For that this our egoism
Doesn't destroy our heart.
To fight for what?
If it is without wanting
Who will
Protect us?
Will be that we'll to have
That to answer
For more errors
You and me?
Legião Urbana — "Urban Legion" in Portuguese — is one of the most successful rock bands in Brazil's history. Originally created in 1983, the band continued to exist until 1996, with the death of its vocalist, Renato Russo. Many elements helped shape the identity of Legião Urbana. Consciously or not, Renato Russo, the main singer, was heavily influenced by The Smiths, particularly Morrissey, in his extremely personal lyrics and idiosyncratic on-stage performance. He was also influenced by Joy Division's Ian Curtis. Thematically, Russo and the other members were also influenced by literature, especially that of Portuguese poet Luís de Camões, whose poetry is featured in more than one of the band's songs. Despite the death of Russo and the group's disbanding, Legião Urbana continues to be the third best-selling artist in Brazil, with approximately 350,000 albums sold per year as of 2003. With more than 13 million records sold, the band continues to be very well-known among young Brazilians. Legião Urbana was, and remains, loved because of the songs remain timeless and whose words told of many aspects: love, spiritualism, politics, family, sex, drugs. The raw reality of these issues struck a chord with many, including Russo himself. A well-known characteristic of the band is that they made very few music videos, and by the low quality of the few ones they agreed to make. Renato Russo hated to make them. Renato Russo was the former creator of the band, vocalist, played guitars, bass or keyboards, and wrote or co-wrote most of the band's songs.
(Portuguese lyrics for Sera)
Será
Letra: Renato Russo
Música: Dado Villa-Lobos/Renato Russo/Marcelo Bonfá
Tire suas mãos de mim
Eu não pertenço a você
Não é me dominado assim
Que você vai me entender
Eu posso estar sozinho
Mas eu sei muito bem aonde estou
Você pode até duvidar
Acho que isso não é amor.
Será isso imaginação?
Será que nada vai acontecer?
Será que é tudo isso em vão?
Será que vamos conseguir vencer?
Nos perderemos entre monstros
Da nossa própria criação
Serão noites inteiras
Talvez por medo da escuridão
Ficaremos acordados
Imaginando alguma solução
Pra que esse nosso egoísmo
Não destrua nosso coração.
Brigar pra quê
Se é sem querer
Quem é que vai
Nos proteger?
Será que vamos ter
Que responder
Pelos erros a mais
Eu e você?
(My English version for Sera)
Will be
Lyrics: Renato Russo
Music: Data Villa-Lobos/Renato Russo/Marcelo Bonfá
Takes off your hands of me
I don't belong you
It's not dominated me thus
That you will understand me
Maybe I'm alone
But I know very well where I am
You can until doubting
I find that this is not love.
Will be this one imagination?
Will be that nothing its to happen?
Will be that everything in vain?
Will be that we'll keep winning?
We will lose ourselves between monsters
From our proper creation
It will be entire nights
Perhaps from fear of the darkness
We will be waked up
Imagining some solution
For that this our egoism
Doesn't destroy our heart.
To fight for what?
If it is without wanting
Who will
Protect us?
Will be that we'll to have
That to answer
For more errors
You and me?
28.9.07
Bono’s Liberty Medal Acceptance Speech
Won't take long. I'm the Fidel Castro of speechifying. We've got a few hours, don't we?
Right. Thank you. Thank you Mr. President. (George H.W. Bush) Thanks Joe. (Joseph Torsella, President and CEO, National Constitution Center) and everyone here at the National Constitution Center. It's an inspiring place. In the words of Robert Zimmerman - Bob Dylan – "ring those bells…ring those bells."
I want to thank my wife, Ali. And I also want to thank the members of U2 for not firing me when they hear I'm in Philadelphia this evening because they're in the studio expecting me, and I know they won't fire me because it is Philadelphia and we've played everywhere here. From 70 people to 70,000 people here. An important city for the U2ers, as well as these both Live 8 concerts which really turned my life upside down.
I've got 5 minutes to talk and I can spend that doing the shout-outs, but I want to thank Ngozi. (Dr. Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, former Finance Minister of Nigeria and current member of DATA's Policy Advisory Board) Really for what she said, for what she is and for what she does. This is the kind of leader we all want to work for. This is the reason we in DATA do what we do. We love you dear.
I must tell you it's a bit humbling for me to be here where it all got started. Where America got started. Because along with a mayor, a governor, a former president, and so many others that served the cause of freedom while I, it has to be said, have served the cause of my own ego. President Bush, you may remember that when you were in office in 1992 and U2 was touring America, I used to do this bit every night in the show where I would bring a phone out and I'd ring you up at the White House. You never took my calls, Sir. You had far too much sense. That's the truth. Now your son, he did not have your sense. He not only took my call, he had me over to lunch. And then I wouldn't leave. I think he's been regretting it ever since because when I come over to the house, I'm not exactly what you call "house trained" - even White House trained. I'm not exactly what you call a good guest either. I can be rude and I ask for things before we even sit down for tea, like billions of dollars to fight AIDS in Africa. Things like that.
I'd like to think that I've always left the White House with more than I arrived. Not only budget commitments, cutlery, silverware, candelabras, one or two Bush family photos, -OK one Gilbert Stuart portrait…of George Washington; it was in the bathroom – nobody could see, I'll give it back.
I have to say that people took risks in working with us. And want to say that current President Bush was not only gracious, he was passionate. Passionate about doing more for the poorest of the poor, and smart enough to know that he wasn't just letting a rock star run amok with his staff. He knew that DATA, the organization being honored tonight, was bursting with energy. Filled to the brim with the best and the brightest people – policy people, campaigners, I salute you. Your servant. (bows)
Still, it is risky working with rock stars, children, animals. People we wouldn't have expected had us in their offices again and again hammering out new initiatives, like the Millennium Challenge Account, which rewards poor countries that were tacking corruption. And, like Ngozi was talking about, was looking for investment, you know aid as investment. And we also worked with President Bush on a historic AIDS initiative where now I can tell you that it's not just one million that you heard about, it's now one-and-a-half million Africans who owe their lives to the two pills a day that they receive from the United States of America. It's a great thing.
I might add that this can only happen because in Congress, heroic Democrats and Republicans put down their politics and put in their political capital to make things happen for people who don't have a vote. And it couldn't have happened without the leadership of president number 43, but number 42 as well. I just had the pleasure of telling William Jefferson Clinton, whom you travel with so much, that thanks to his and other G8 leaders supporting debt cancellation, and as a result of inspired African leadership, there are now as you heard earlier, and I can confirm it, 20 million African children going to school that wouldn't be otherwise. Twenty million African children – WOW! That's worth shouting about. That's the America I love.
And that's why I'm so honored to be here to receive this award – a punk rocker from the north side of Dublin. An organization that until very recently had its data in haversacks and had its office in Kinkos around the corner. No, I want to thank the organization and people like our instigator and part-time flame thrower, Bobby Shriver and Jamie Drummond who's sitting there who are something special. Jamie, if you've noticed, Jamie and I have accents. Subtle. We come from "over there" across the water. But we're over here because we're fans of America. And, in that sense, we're no different than the two-and-a-half million Americans who have now joined the ONE Campaign which began its life in this great city of Philadelphia in 2004 right in front of Independence Hall. We're fans of America.
I'm also a fan of Benjamin Franklin. Which I noticed earlier – Franklin who wore John Lennon glasses before anybody, before they were cool. Franklin who went electric before Dylan. Franklin who said, as you heard earlier, God grant that not only the love of liberty, but a thorough knowledge of the rights of man may pervade all the nations of the Earth so that a philosopher may set his foot anywhere on its surface and say "this is my country." Well, in case you hadn't heard, I am not a philosopher, I am a rock star, though after a few pints, this rock star starts thinking he's a philosopher.
So, not a philosopher, but let me set my foot here and say to you tonight this is my country. With humility and pride in my own country, let me say America is my country in the sense that anyone who has a stake in liberty has a stake in the United States of America. For all you've been through, good and bad, this is my country too. For every time I wince, or gasp or punch the wall, when I read something that galls, there's another time I'm reminded of your generosity, your resilience, your innovation, your work ethic, your compassion. Although today, today I read in The Economist an article reporting that over 38 percent of Americans support some kind of torture in exceptional circumstances. My country – NO! Your country – tell me no. (Crowd answers back "no") Thank you.
Today as you pin this great honor on me, I ask you – I implore you as an Irish man who has seen some of these things close up, I ask you to remember you do not have to become a monster to defeat a monster. Your America is better than that. Your America is the one where Neil Armstrong takes a walk on the Moon because he can. Your America is the one where so many Irish people discovered their value. Your America is the one where a brave military fought and died for freedom in places like Omaha Beach, and in the Pacific, where president number 41 here – a true World War II war hero served. Your America gave Europe the Marshall Plan. Your America gave the world the Peace Corps, JFK, RFK, MLK, the Special Olympics, Bill and Melinda Gates, Warren Buffet, Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen – the bard and the boss – Steve Jobs, local hero Will Smith, the meditations of Mark Rothko, the poetics of Allen Ginsberg, Edward R. Murrow, Miles Davis, Quincy Jones, Mary J. Blige, Frank Gehry, of thee I sing, all of thee.
Hey, these are the reasons I'm a fan of America – and one more. America is not just a country. It's an idea, isn't it? It's a great and powerful idea. The idea that all men are created equal. That "we are endowed by our creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." These are great lyrics, Mr. Jefferson. Great opening riff. The Declaration of Independence has a great closing line too – "we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor." Well the men who made that, the men who signed that pledge, had a lot to lose by signing - like their lives. So what then about you and me? What are we ready to pledge? What are we ready to pledge ourselves to? Anything? Anything at all?
What about this idea of liberty? Not liberty for its own sake, but liberty for some larger end – not just freedom from oppression, but freedom of expression and worship. Freedom from want, and freedom from fear because when you are trapped by poverty, you are not free. When trade laws prevent you from selling the food you grow, you are not free. When you are dying of a mosquito bite for lack of a bed net, you are not free. When you are hungry in a world of plenty, you are not free. And when you are a monk in Burma this very week, barred from entering a temple because of your gospel of peace, it is an affront to the thug regime, well then none of us are truly free.
My other country, America, I know you'll not stand for that. So, look I'm not going to stand here, a rock star who just stepped off a private plane, and tell you to put your lives on the line for people you've never met or your fortunes – I haven't. But our sacred honor might just be at stake here. That and a whole lot else. So what, then, are we willing to pledge? How about our science, your technology, your creativity…America has so many great answers to offer. We can't fix all the world's problems. But the ones we can, we must.
Enough of my voice. Listen to the voice of young Africa. Good night.
Won't take long. I'm the Fidel Castro of speechifying. We've got a few hours, don't we?
Right. Thank you. Thank you Mr. President. (George H.W. Bush) Thanks Joe. (Joseph Torsella, President and CEO, National Constitution Center) and everyone here at the National Constitution Center. It's an inspiring place. In the words of Robert Zimmerman - Bob Dylan – "ring those bells…ring those bells."
I want to thank my wife, Ali. And I also want to thank the members of U2 for not firing me when they hear I'm in Philadelphia this evening because they're in the studio expecting me, and I know they won't fire me because it is Philadelphia and we've played everywhere here. From 70 people to 70,000 people here. An important city for the U2ers, as well as these both Live 8 concerts which really turned my life upside down.
I've got 5 minutes to talk and I can spend that doing the shout-outs, but I want to thank Ngozi. (Dr. Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, former Finance Minister of Nigeria and current member of DATA's Policy Advisory Board) Really for what she said, for what she is and for what she does. This is the kind of leader we all want to work for. This is the reason we in DATA do what we do. We love you dear.
I must tell you it's a bit humbling for me to be here where it all got started. Where America got started. Because along with a mayor, a governor, a former president, and so many others that served the cause of freedom while I, it has to be said, have served the cause of my own ego. President Bush, you may remember that when you were in office in 1992 and U2 was touring America, I used to do this bit every night in the show where I would bring a phone out and I'd ring you up at the White House. You never took my calls, Sir. You had far too much sense. That's the truth. Now your son, he did not have your sense. He not only took my call, he had me over to lunch. And then I wouldn't leave. I think he's been regretting it ever since because when I come over to the house, I'm not exactly what you call "house trained" - even White House trained. I'm not exactly what you call a good guest either. I can be rude and I ask for things before we even sit down for tea, like billions of dollars to fight AIDS in Africa. Things like that.
I'd like to think that I've always left the White House with more than I arrived. Not only budget commitments, cutlery, silverware, candelabras, one or two Bush family photos, -OK one Gilbert Stuart portrait…of George Washington; it was in the bathroom – nobody could see, I'll give it back.
I have to say that people took risks in working with us. And want to say that current President Bush was not only gracious, he was passionate. Passionate about doing more for the poorest of the poor, and smart enough to know that he wasn't just letting a rock star run amok with his staff. He knew that DATA, the organization being honored tonight, was bursting with energy. Filled to the brim with the best and the brightest people – policy people, campaigners, I salute you. Your servant. (bows)
Still, it is risky working with rock stars, children, animals. People we wouldn't have expected had us in their offices again and again hammering out new initiatives, like the Millennium Challenge Account, which rewards poor countries that were tacking corruption. And, like Ngozi was talking about, was looking for investment, you know aid as investment. And we also worked with President Bush on a historic AIDS initiative where now I can tell you that it's not just one million that you heard about, it's now one-and-a-half million Africans who owe their lives to the two pills a day that they receive from the United States of America. It's a great thing.
I might add that this can only happen because in Congress, heroic Democrats and Republicans put down their politics and put in their political capital to make things happen for people who don't have a vote. And it couldn't have happened without the leadership of president number 43, but number 42 as well. I just had the pleasure of telling William Jefferson Clinton, whom you travel with so much, that thanks to his and other G8 leaders supporting debt cancellation, and as a result of inspired African leadership, there are now as you heard earlier, and I can confirm it, 20 million African children going to school that wouldn't be otherwise. Twenty million African children – WOW! That's worth shouting about. That's the America I love.
And that's why I'm so honored to be here to receive this award – a punk rocker from the north side of Dublin. An organization that until very recently had its data in haversacks and had its office in Kinkos around the corner. No, I want to thank the organization and people like our instigator and part-time flame thrower, Bobby Shriver and Jamie Drummond who's sitting there who are something special. Jamie, if you've noticed, Jamie and I have accents. Subtle. We come from "over there" across the water. But we're over here because we're fans of America. And, in that sense, we're no different than the two-and-a-half million Americans who have now joined the ONE Campaign which began its life in this great city of Philadelphia in 2004 right in front of Independence Hall. We're fans of America.
I'm also a fan of Benjamin Franklin. Which I noticed earlier – Franklin who wore John Lennon glasses before anybody, before they were cool. Franklin who went electric before Dylan. Franklin who said, as you heard earlier, God grant that not only the love of liberty, but a thorough knowledge of the rights of man may pervade all the nations of the Earth so that a philosopher may set his foot anywhere on its surface and say "this is my country." Well, in case you hadn't heard, I am not a philosopher, I am a rock star, though after a few pints, this rock star starts thinking he's a philosopher.
So, not a philosopher, but let me set my foot here and say to you tonight this is my country. With humility and pride in my own country, let me say America is my country in the sense that anyone who has a stake in liberty has a stake in the United States of America. For all you've been through, good and bad, this is my country too. For every time I wince, or gasp or punch the wall, when I read something that galls, there's another time I'm reminded of your generosity, your resilience, your innovation, your work ethic, your compassion. Although today, today I read in The Economist an article reporting that over 38 percent of Americans support some kind of torture in exceptional circumstances. My country – NO! Your country – tell me no. (Crowd answers back "no") Thank you.
Today as you pin this great honor on me, I ask you – I implore you as an Irish man who has seen some of these things close up, I ask you to remember you do not have to become a monster to defeat a monster. Your America is better than that. Your America is the one where Neil Armstrong takes a walk on the Moon because he can. Your America is the one where so many Irish people discovered their value. Your America is the one where a brave military fought and died for freedom in places like Omaha Beach, and in the Pacific, where president number 41 here – a true World War II war hero served. Your America gave Europe the Marshall Plan. Your America gave the world the Peace Corps, JFK, RFK, MLK, the Special Olympics, Bill and Melinda Gates, Warren Buffet, Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen – the bard and the boss – Steve Jobs, local hero Will Smith, the meditations of Mark Rothko, the poetics of Allen Ginsberg, Edward R. Murrow, Miles Davis, Quincy Jones, Mary J. Blige, Frank Gehry, of thee I sing, all of thee.
Hey, these are the reasons I'm a fan of America – and one more. America is not just a country. It's an idea, isn't it? It's a great and powerful idea. The idea that all men are created equal. That "we are endowed by our creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." These are great lyrics, Mr. Jefferson. Great opening riff. The Declaration of Independence has a great closing line too – "we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor." Well the men who made that, the men who signed that pledge, had a lot to lose by signing - like their lives. So what then about you and me? What are we ready to pledge? What are we ready to pledge ourselves to? Anything? Anything at all?
What about this idea of liberty? Not liberty for its own sake, but liberty for some larger end – not just freedom from oppression, but freedom of expression and worship. Freedom from want, and freedom from fear because when you are trapped by poverty, you are not free. When trade laws prevent you from selling the food you grow, you are not free. When you are dying of a mosquito bite for lack of a bed net, you are not free. When you are hungry in a world of plenty, you are not free. And when you are a monk in Burma this very week, barred from entering a temple because of your gospel of peace, it is an affront to the thug regime, well then none of us are truly free.
My other country, America, I know you'll not stand for that. So, look I'm not going to stand here, a rock star who just stepped off a private plane, and tell you to put your lives on the line for people you've never met or your fortunes – I haven't. But our sacred honor might just be at stake here. That and a whole lot else. So what, then, are we willing to pledge? How about our science, your technology, your creativity…America has so many great answers to offer. We can't fix all the world's problems. But the ones we can, we must.
Enough of my voice. Listen to the voice of young Africa. Good night.
27.9.07
Espatodea by Nando Reis.
Nando Reis wrote the lyrics to his little daughter Zoe. He says she is his inspiration and he stays so emotional when sings in her presence. Espatodea Campanulata is a tree of the Bignoniaceae's family. Their root aren't profound and frequently its branchs fall down; this tree isn't a good option to urban centres. Gineceu are the female parts of a flower. This name is from the division in the old Greece, reserved only to the women. The male part is called androceu.
Read about Nando Reis, his life, his career, here
(Portuguese lyrics to Espatodea)
Minha cor
Minha flor
Minha cara
Quarta estrela
Letras, três
Uma estrada
Não sei se o mundo está bom
Mas ele está melhor
Desde que você chegou
E perguntou:
Tem lugar pra mim?
Espatodea
Gineceu
Cor de pólen
Sol do dia
Nuvem branca
Sem sardas
Não sei se o mundo está bom
Mas ele está melhor
Porque você chegou
E explicou
O mundo pra mim
Não sei se esse mundo está são
Mas pro mundo que eu vim já não era
Meu mundo não teria razão
Se não fosse a Zoe
(My English version to Espatodea)
My color
My flower
My face
Fourth star
Letters, three
A road
I don't know if the world is good
But it is better
Since you arrived
And asked:
Is there a place to me?
Espatodea
Gineceu
Color of pollination
Sun of the day
White cloud
Without freckles
I don't know if the world is good
But it is better
Because you arrived
And explained
The world to me
I don't know if this world is OK
But to the world that I came wasn't
My world wouldn't have reason
If wasn't Zoe
Nando Reis wrote the lyrics to his little daughter Zoe. He says she is his inspiration and he stays so emotional when sings in her presence. Espatodea Campanulata is a tree of the Bignoniaceae's family. Their root aren't profound and frequently its branchs fall down; this tree isn't a good option to urban centres. Gineceu are the female parts of a flower. This name is from the division in the old Greece, reserved only to the women. The male part is called androceu.
Read about Nando Reis, his life, his career, here
(Portuguese lyrics to Espatodea)
Minha cor
Minha flor
Minha cara
Quarta estrela
Letras, três
Uma estrada
Não sei se o mundo está bom
Mas ele está melhor
Desde que você chegou
E perguntou:
Tem lugar pra mim?
Espatodea
Gineceu
Cor de pólen
Sol do dia
Nuvem branca
Sem sardas
Não sei se o mundo está bom
Mas ele está melhor
Porque você chegou
E explicou
O mundo pra mim
Não sei se esse mundo está são
Mas pro mundo que eu vim já não era
Meu mundo não teria razão
Se não fosse a Zoe
(My English version to Espatodea)
My color
My flower
My face
Fourth star
Letters, three
A road
I don't know if the world is good
But it is better
Since you arrived
And asked:
Is there a place to me?
Espatodea
Gineceu
Color of pollination
Sun of the day
White cloud
Without freckles
I don't know if the world is good
But it is better
Because you arrived
And explained
The world to me
I don't know if this world is OK
But to the world that I came wasn't
My world wouldn't have reason
If wasn't Zoe
20.9.07
U2 returned home to play at their junior high graduation ceremony
Avenue/Uncle Sam's, U2 returned home to play at their junior high graduation ceremony - Image by Greg Helgeson (Helgeson shot a portrait [above] in the southeast corner of the club, in the day of the show)
Boy tour - 3rd leg - April 09, 1981 / Minneapolis, MN / Venue: Uncle Sam's / Opening Act(s): The Panic / Main Set: The Ocean, 11 O'Clock Tick Tock, I Will Follow, An Cat Dubh, Into The Heart, Another Time Another Place, The Electric Co, Things To Make And Do, Stories For Boys, Boy-Girl, Out Of Control, A Day Without Me, 11 O'Clock Tick Tock, The Ocean, I Will Follow
"They were hobbits. They were pot smokers. In 1981, they were just kids called U2.
All That You Can't Leave Behind
by Jim Walsh
September 21, 2005
At some point during U2's concert at the Target Center Friday night, Bono will talk about the first time the band played the host city, as he has at almost every stop on this "Vertigo" world tour. He will invoke the words "First Avenue" (or "Uncle Sam's," as it was) and, in doing so, remind himself and all gathered that U2 may have started in drummer Larry Mullen's cramped kitchen in Dublin, but their roots are in tiny clubs all over the planet.
It was April 9, 1981. U2's first record, Boy, had been released the previous year. I had read about it in New Musical Express and ordered it from Ryan at Hot Licks on Hennepin Avenue--now a parking lot. The day the import-only vinyl arrived, Chico brought it out from behind the counter, looked at the photo of the wide-eyed child on the cover and said, "Cool cover, man. Who are these guys?"
I only had a vague idea. Bands were sprouting up everywhere and everyone was inspiring and competing with everyone else. U2 was "one of us, just like us," according to Man Sized Action drummer Tony Pucci, who was working stage crew that night. "We were young punks in bands, too. I told Larry, 'Hey, man, I'm a drummer, too,' and he let me hit his drums. They were just another bunch of guys going through town."
When U2 hit Minneapolis, some lumped them in with the so-called New Romantics, along with the likes of the Psychedelic Furs and Echo and the Bunnymen--albeit with a powerhouse single in their holsters, "I Will Follow."
Matt Wilson was the 16-year-old drummer for U2's local opening band, the Panic. The future Trip Shakespeare leader and his mates spent the month before the show reading about U2 in Rolling Stone, listening to Boy, and getting pumped to play in front of their new heroes from across the pond.
"We hadn't been around very long, and we were so excited to play for these guys. We envisioned them standing there, taking in every note," recalls Wilson. "We played this incredible set, even faster than we usually played. We were sweating when we were done; it was like the show of our lives. And then we watched them walk in through the back door next to the stage as we were tearing down our stuff. It was crushing."
Former Sam's/First Avenue booker Chrissie Dunlap recalls that tickets were "probably 10 dollars" (top-end tickets for the sold-out Target Center show go for $160) and most who were there agree that no more than 500 people were in attendance.
As for the show itself, former Hüsker Dü and Sugar leader Bob Mould recalls that "they didn't have enough material, so they did 'I Will Follow' twice." Wilson recalls, "I don't think I'd ever seen that much concentrated dry ice before. I just remember them moving in and out of the mist, and there was this sort of sense of a religious happening."
U2 was on the second leg of their Boy tour, which took them to clubs such as the Paradise (Boston), the Ritz (New York City), Park West (Chicago), Merlyn's (Madison), and Ol' Man River's (New Orleans). Longtime Sam's/First Avenue DJ Roy Freedom recalls, "They asked me and [fellow DJ] Kevin [Cole] to come back to the dressing room, because they hadn't met any American kids on their tour. I think they thought this was going to be their only shot in America. We smoked pot with 'em and talked about music and had a good time."
"They were like the nicest Catholic school boys you could meet," recalls Wilson. "They talked about chess; they were really into chess. They gave us their beer. They didn't drink."
While the Beatles' visit to Minneapolis in 1965 was thoroughly documented, U2's exact itinerary 25 years ago is only hazily remembered. Legend has it that the band pulled into town the day before the show and rehearsed--an account that varies significantly from the scenario of Friday's reported fly-in, fly-out timetable. Longtime U2 watchers contend that much of their sophomore album October was cooked up on the First Avenue stage during practice, including "I Threw a Brick Through a Window."
A bootleg exists of that Boy-era Sam's show, the title of which comes from how Bono introduced the band that night: "We're called U2."
Like many such beginnings, precise memories of the night now require a gong to ring a bell. "Let's see...it was a really nasty night, really cold, but warm and electric inside," says Tony Pucci, who will attend the Target Center show with his sons, John and Mike, and his wife, Rita, who was up front for the Sam's show in 1981. "All I remember," she says, "was Bono had his foot up on a monitor, and it slipped down and stomped on my arm. I had a huge bruise for days."
The day of the show, photographer Greg Helgeson and Sweet Potato music scribe Martin Keller hung out with the foursome. The band lounged on beds at the now defunct Normandy Hotel, and Keller and Helgeson accompanied them to sound check. Helgeson shot a portrait [above] in the southeast corner of the club.
"They were very confident," says Helgeson. "Marty's Catholic, so the conversation was about Catholicism and world politics and religion, which, in the long run, fits in."
Keller's memories of his brush with what might be the biggest rock band in the world are not unlike the article he wrote after the fact--in a box somewhere, and difficult to access. "They were all little," he says. "They were Hobbits. Who knew they'd get as big as they did? They were very young. They struck me as kids, like, 'What are these guys doing on the road? They're a long way from home.' But they owned the stage once they got on it."
Jim Walsh can be reached at jwalsh@citypages.com or 612.372.3775 - citypages.com
Avenue/Uncle Sam's, U2 returned home to play at their junior high graduation ceremony - Image by Greg Helgeson (Helgeson shot a portrait [above] in the southeast corner of the club, in the day of the show)
Boy tour - 3rd leg - April 09, 1981 / Minneapolis, MN / Venue: Uncle Sam's / Opening Act(s): The Panic / Main Set: The Ocean, 11 O'Clock Tick Tock, I Will Follow, An Cat Dubh, Into The Heart, Another Time Another Place, The Electric Co, Things To Make And Do, Stories For Boys, Boy-Girl, Out Of Control, A Day Without Me, 11 O'Clock Tick Tock, The Ocean, I Will Follow
"They were hobbits. They were pot smokers. In 1981, they were just kids called U2.
All That You Can't Leave Behind
by Jim Walsh
September 21, 2005
At some point during U2's concert at the Target Center Friday night, Bono will talk about the first time the band played the host city, as he has at almost every stop on this "Vertigo" world tour. He will invoke the words "First Avenue" (or "Uncle Sam's," as it was) and, in doing so, remind himself and all gathered that U2 may have started in drummer Larry Mullen's cramped kitchen in Dublin, but their roots are in tiny clubs all over the planet.
It was April 9, 1981. U2's first record, Boy, had been released the previous year. I had read about it in New Musical Express and ordered it from Ryan at Hot Licks on Hennepin Avenue--now a parking lot. The day the import-only vinyl arrived, Chico brought it out from behind the counter, looked at the photo of the wide-eyed child on the cover and said, "Cool cover, man. Who are these guys?"
I only had a vague idea. Bands were sprouting up everywhere and everyone was inspiring and competing with everyone else. U2 was "one of us, just like us," according to Man Sized Action drummer Tony Pucci, who was working stage crew that night. "We were young punks in bands, too. I told Larry, 'Hey, man, I'm a drummer, too,' and he let me hit his drums. They were just another bunch of guys going through town."
When U2 hit Minneapolis, some lumped them in with the so-called New Romantics, along with the likes of the Psychedelic Furs and Echo and the Bunnymen--albeit with a powerhouse single in their holsters, "I Will Follow."
Matt Wilson was the 16-year-old drummer for U2's local opening band, the Panic. The future Trip Shakespeare leader and his mates spent the month before the show reading about U2 in Rolling Stone, listening to Boy, and getting pumped to play in front of their new heroes from across the pond.
"We hadn't been around very long, and we were so excited to play for these guys. We envisioned them standing there, taking in every note," recalls Wilson. "We played this incredible set, even faster than we usually played. We were sweating when we were done; it was like the show of our lives. And then we watched them walk in through the back door next to the stage as we were tearing down our stuff. It was crushing."
Former Sam's/First Avenue booker Chrissie Dunlap recalls that tickets were "probably 10 dollars" (top-end tickets for the sold-out Target Center show go for $160) and most who were there agree that no more than 500 people were in attendance.
As for the show itself, former Hüsker Dü and Sugar leader Bob Mould recalls that "they didn't have enough material, so they did 'I Will Follow' twice." Wilson recalls, "I don't think I'd ever seen that much concentrated dry ice before. I just remember them moving in and out of the mist, and there was this sort of sense of a religious happening."
U2 was on the second leg of their Boy tour, which took them to clubs such as the Paradise (Boston), the Ritz (New York City), Park West (Chicago), Merlyn's (Madison), and Ol' Man River's (New Orleans). Longtime Sam's/First Avenue DJ Roy Freedom recalls, "They asked me and [fellow DJ] Kevin [Cole] to come back to the dressing room, because they hadn't met any American kids on their tour. I think they thought this was going to be their only shot in America. We smoked pot with 'em and talked about music and had a good time."
"They were like the nicest Catholic school boys you could meet," recalls Wilson. "They talked about chess; they were really into chess. They gave us their beer. They didn't drink."
While the Beatles' visit to Minneapolis in 1965 was thoroughly documented, U2's exact itinerary 25 years ago is only hazily remembered. Legend has it that the band pulled into town the day before the show and rehearsed--an account that varies significantly from the scenario of Friday's reported fly-in, fly-out timetable. Longtime U2 watchers contend that much of their sophomore album October was cooked up on the First Avenue stage during practice, including "I Threw a Brick Through a Window."
A bootleg exists of that Boy-era Sam's show, the title of which comes from how Bono introduced the band that night: "We're called U2."
Like many such beginnings, precise memories of the night now require a gong to ring a bell. "Let's see...it was a really nasty night, really cold, but warm and electric inside," says Tony Pucci, who will attend the Target Center show with his sons, John and Mike, and his wife, Rita, who was up front for the Sam's show in 1981. "All I remember," she says, "was Bono had his foot up on a monitor, and it slipped down and stomped on my arm. I had a huge bruise for days."
The day of the show, photographer Greg Helgeson and Sweet Potato music scribe Martin Keller hung out with the foursome. The band lounged on beds at the now defunct Normandy Hotel, and Keller and Helgeson accompanied them to sound check. Helgeson shot a portrait [above] in the southeast corner of the club.
"They were very confident," says Helgeson. "Marty's Catholic, so the conversation was about Catholicism and world politics and religion, which, in the long run, fits in."
Keller's memories of his brush with what might be the biggest rock band in the world are not unlike the article he wrote after the fact--in a box somewhere, and difficult to access. "They were all little," he says. "They were Hobbits. Who knew they'd get as big as they did? They were very young. They struck me as kids, like, 'What are these guys doing on the road? They're a long way from home.' But they owned the stage once they got on it."
Jim Walsh can be reached at jwalsh@citypages.com or 612.372.3775 - citypages.com
15.9.07
Zeca Baleiro - Lord's Heavy Metal
The saints asked for God to play a cool sound and He answers: 'Be strong I Will Play a heavy metal' - It´s Zeca Baleiro, a guy from Maranhao, northeast of Brazil, a talented composer, with a strong personality and very sexy voice, sense of humor and sharp verve, criative poetry added to a very peculiar accoustic guitar playing. Charismatic, the artist enchants crowds of all ages wherever he performs. Here in this song called 'Heavy Metal do Senhor' (Lord´s Heavy Metal) pay attention to the guy at right side, he plays the genuine sound of the northeast´s interior, with a lamented acoustic guitar, but a brute, crude lamented guitar. It´s excellent. It´s our 'Until The End Of The World'.
The saints asked for God to play a cool sound and He answers: 'Be strong I Will Play a heavy metal' - It´s Zeca Baleiro, a guy from Maranhao, northeast of Brazil, a talented composer, with a strong personality and very sexy voice, sense of humor and sharp verve, criative poetry added to a very peculiar accoustic guitar playing. Charismatic, the artist enchants crowds of all ages wherever he performs. Here in this song called 'Heavy Metal do Senhor' (Lord´s Heavy Metal) pay attention to the guy at right side, he plays the genuine sound of the northeast´s interior, with a lamented acoustic guitar, but a brute, crude lamented guitar. It´s excellent. It´s our 'Until The End Of The World'.
12.9.07
4.9.07
Smooth Operator and The Sweetest Taboo (Sade) - Sensing an opportunity brewing, the doe-eyed Sade (née Helen Folasade Adu) was clever enough to take up the slack in the music charts, and subsequently steamrolled her way past the competition during the latter half of the eighties and early nineties, with her perfunctory vocal style and smoke-gets-in-your-eyes delivery.
She earns a space on the shelves of smooth-jazz collectors, for her infectious chartbuster ("No need to ask"), the knockout number "Smooth Operator," from her smash debut album Diamond Life (CBS Portrait/Sony, 1984), alongside such showstoppers as "Your Love is King" and "Hang On to Your Love."
In a similar vein, there's Promise from 1985 (CBS Portrait/Sony), featuring the serpentine-like "The Sweetest Taboo," a cut that solidified her hold on Latin-music lovers and other romantics. Though her voice is closer to the cool side of jazz than to straight-up bossa nova ("Ice Queen" is the phrase most associated with her persona), the former model-turned-pop-diva was inspired by no less than Billie Holiday and Nina Simone, with a smattering of Astrud Gilberto's breathless naiveté thrown in for good measure. It's a style that Suzanne Vega has also cultivated, to an extent - not bad for non-natives. (text by a naturalized American citizen born in Brazil, Joe Lopes)
She earns a space on the shelves of smooth-jazz collectors, for her infectious chartbuster ("No need to ask"), the knockout number "Smooth Operator," from her smash debut album Diamond Life (CBS Portrait/Sony, 1984), alongside such showstoppers as "Your Love is King" and "Hang On to Your Love."
In a similar vein, there's Promise from 1985 (CBS Portrait/Sony), featuring the serpentine-like "The Sweetest Taboo," a cut that solidified her hold on Latin-music lovers and other romantics. Though her voice is closer to the cool side of jazz than to straight-up bossa nova ("Ice Queen" is the phrase most associated with her persona), the former model-turned-pop-diva was inspired by no less than Billie Holiday and Nina Simone, with a smattering of Astrud Gilberto's breathless naiveté thrown in for good measure. It's a style that Suzanne Vega has also cultivated, to an extent - not bad for non-natives. (text by a naturalized American citizen born in Brazil, Joe Lopes)
1.9.07
Caramel - Suzanne Vega
'Caramel' a wonderfully laidback vignette from Suzanne Vega's 1996 album Nine Objects of Desire (A&M). It has a solid and respectable bossa nova beat ("It won't do / to dream of caramel / to think of cinnamon / and long for you"), with an equally fine, syncopated guitar accompaniment-not the kind of thing one associates with an American pop tune of the period, but not so rare as to be totally off-course. Factor in Vega's hushed and reflective tone, and a modern-day classic was born. Caramel is a kind of sweet candy. In this song, a woman consoles herself with food because she misses her lover. Says Vega, "It's a song about longing for something and wishing for something you know you really shouldn't have. Caramel is the metaphor for the thing you long for, but you shouldn't really touch."
Lyrics for: Caramel
It won't do
to dream of caramel,
to think of cinnamon
and long for you.
It won't do
to stir a deep desire,
to fan a hidden fire
that can never burn true.
I know your name,
I know your skin,
I know the way
these things begin;
But I don't know
how I would live with myself,
what I'd forgive of myself
if you don't go.
So goodbye,
sweet appetite,
no single bite
could satisfy...
I know your name,
I know your skin,
I know the way
these things begin;
But I don't know
what I would give of myself,
how I would live with myself
if you don't go.
It won't do
to dream of caramel,
to think of cinnamon
and long
for you.
'Caramel' a wonderfully laidback vignette from Suzanne Vega's 1996 album Nine Objects of Desire (A&M). It has a solid and respectable bossa nova beat ("It won't do / to dream of caramel / to think of cinnamon / and long for you"), with an equally fine, syncopated guitar accompaniment-not the kind of thing one associates with an American pop tune of the period, but not so rare as to be totally off-course. Factor in Vega's hushed and reflective tone, and a modern-day classic was born. Caramel is a kind of sweet candy. In this song, a woman consoles herself with food because she misses her lover. Says Vega, "It's a song about longing for something and wishing for something you know you really shouldn't have. Caramel is the metaphor for the thing you long for, but you shouldn't really touch."
Lyrics for: Caramel
It won't do
to dream of caramel,
to think of cinnamon
and long for you.
It won't do
to stir a deep desire,
to fan a hidden fire
that can never burn true.
I know your name,
I know your skin,
I know the way
these things begin;
But I don't know
how I would live with myself,
what I'd forgive of myself
if you don't go.
So goodbye,
sweet appetite,
no single bite
could satisfy...
I know your name,
I know your skin,
I know the way
these things begin;
But I don't know
what I would give of myself,
how I would live with myself
if you don't go.
It won't do
to dream of caramel,
to think of cinnamon
and long
for you.
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