6A — Monday, February 6, 2017
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Over the past two weeks, my
brain has felt like it’s split in two: a
frivolous half and an anxious half.
I’m spending my days nervously
refreshing
Twitter,
monitoring
updates from the Oval Office and
wondering which country the
President has offended today, or
which Americans’ rights are now in
jeopardy.
At the same time, however,
I can’t help but be occasionally
preoccupied by the same random
pleasures I’ve always enjoyed.
What’s going to happen on season
two of “The Good Place?” I wonder,
guiltily. Will Michigan’s basketball
team make the tournament? It’s like
there’s an oasis of escapism right
in the middle of my stressed-out
mind.
One of the only artists that’s
doing much to bridge this gap
has actually been U2, a band I’ve
looked at to try to make sense
of what art can do and what it
can mean right now, in such an
unpredictable, threatening world.
While U2 has been around for
so long that it’s hard to imagine
them as anything other than the
legendary
institution
they’ve
become, back in the ’80s, they
were a young, hungry, disruptively
fresh band with grand political
ambitions. And, as Irishmen, they
also had a lot of familiarity with
living in a country divided to the
point of violent extremes.
There’s an almost religious
power in the first decade of U2’s
work. Their albums are filled
with songs of faith, hope, love and
passion. They seek to speak out
against injustice, to provide clarity
to the unknown terrors of the
world. The music is unwaveringly
committed and direct. You can
imagine millions of people around
the world closing their eyes and
feeling Bono’s words flow through
them. Songs like the classic, searing
indictment of “Sunday Bloody
Sunday” or the beautiful elegy for
Martin Luther King, Jr., “Pride,”
can stir emotions and demand
thought and action like few other
songs.
But one can see why the band
turned away from these types
of protest anthems in the ’90s.
There’s a great power in the ability
to spread messages to millions
of people, to have thousands of
fans every night sing words you
wrote. It must also be incredibly
intimidating, and in the ’90s, U2
seemed to retreat behind a curtain
of post-modern irony, with Bono
portraying characters on stage
and the songs often carrying much
more superficial meanings.
The only example of the old
spiritual power from this era
comes on Achtung Baby’s famous
“One.” When people accuse Bono
of having a “savior complex,” this
is the song they’re thinking of, a
slow ballad that maybe doesn’t
get enough credit for Bono’s vocal
performance and thoughtful lyrics.
However, it represents a permanent
shift in the band’s point of view. In
“One,” Bono comes off as a larger-
than-life presence, a man looking
down on humanity and evaluating
all the lives he sees. U2 was playing
the biggest concerts any band could
by the time of Achtung’s release,
and they had lost their everyman
perspective. The members of U2
were
professionals,
no
longer
passionate young men living in
Dublin. Their view of the world
came not from the streets anymore,
but from the largest stages their
employees could build.
When
U2
reversed
course
and put out 2000’s All That You
Can’t Leave Behind, a no-frills
rock album that attempted to
win back the fans who had been
put off by the self-indulgence and
experimentation of their last few
records, their attempts at anthems
lacked the fiery conviction of their
youth. Empty platitudes and vague
choruses fill All That You Can’t
Leave Behind’s runtime, as the
songs try harder to evoke memories
of the old U2 rather than say
anything meaningful. Since that
album, while they still retain their
live power, the band has seemed
lost on record, and at times it’s very
unclear what’s motivating them
to write new songs beyond market
demand.
But this year, after fiercely
resisting the label of “nostalgia
act,” U2 has announced a tour
celebrating the 30-year anniversary
of 1987’s The Joshua Tree —
probably the band’s most essential
work — in which they’ll play the
album in its entirety on a nightly
basis.
It’s certainly an interesting time
for U2 to come back to this record.
Recorded in an era of revived
conservatism, Joshua is an album
that celebrates both the best and
attacks the worst of America. It’s
an ode to discovery, with songs
like “Where the Streets Have No
Name” conjuring feelings of endless
freedom and “I Still Haven’t Found
What I’m Looking For” conveying
a restless need to find something
greater than yourself. But it also
doesn’t shy away from political
realities. “Bullet the Blue Sky” is
U2 at its rawest, with the Edge’s
feedback-drenched guitar slashing
through Adam Clayton’s lumbering
bass as a furious Bono takes the
Reagan administration to task for
its Central American policy.
The Joshua Tree is the perfect
album for this moment in history
because it simultaneously explores
two Americas. There’s the ideal
conception of America as a place
of freedom and endless possibility,
but it’s tainted by the reality that
sometimes the people who run
this country are nothing more
than greedy bastards. Joshua Tree
doesn’t solve that conflict or even
attempt to bridge the gap. It lets this
vision of America stay split in two.
But does it matter now? Will
this tour work? Will anyone who
isn’t already converted care? If
The Joshua Tree affects other
Americans like it’s affecting me
right now, then I think so. Right
now is a time when millions of
Americans feel lost in their own
homes, with many losing faith in
the humanity of their neighbors or
wondering what “land of the free”
even means anymore. Old pleasures
feel hollow, and previous ideas of
who we are don’t seem to make
sense. We’ve been left questioning
where we are, and what our
purpose is.
The
Joshua
Tree
doesn’t
answer those questions, but no
album has ever made me think
more about my place in the
world. It doesn’t shy away from
portraying my home country the
way it truly is, but it also presents
inspiring American images worth
aspiring to. To some, fantasizing
about running through a place
“where the streets have no name”
might be pure escapism, but it’s a
powerful call to build a real place
that lives up to our ideals. When
they recorded Joshua, U2 was
still a band searching, unsure
of their duty in a chaotic, unjust
world. But amid corruption and
conflict, they offered a helping
hand towards unity and reminded
us of the beauty in our home that
was still worth pursuing.
The modern meaning of ‘The Joshua Tree’
LAUREN THEISEN
Daily Music Columnist
DAILY MUSIC COLUMN
Music Columnist Lauren Theisen explores U2’s relevance in today’s sociopolitical climate