Pre-1984 U2 couldn’t be any better, except possibly for the lyrics. Post-1984, Bono had given up any pretense of distance or irony about his lyrics and persona, and decided to become the Irish Jim Morrison or something. But before that, man. Best rhythm section in the business, killer Rickenbacker bass tone, amazing Vox-AC30-and-echo-and-Stratocaster guitar leads. In a lot of ways, when you remove the politics, they were just a great new-wave band. The first three records don’t sound all that different than the DBs, early REM, Altered Images or The Pretenders.
When I’m confronted with some new bombastic, overproduced U2 single in a supermarket for yuppies, it makes me mourn this old U2 who just made good tunes. It also forces me to consider the irony of being in a yuppie supermarket (ok, Trader Joe’s) and complaining about all the other yuppies. Maybe that’s the kind of thing that finally made Bono crack and buy Big Sunglasses.
