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U2: Stage And Studio
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U2 Magazine - No. 4
U2 MAGAZINE No: 4 - AUGUST 1982 U2 have been spending most of the summer playing an assortment of open-air shows all
over Europe, in between writing material for a new album and trying out various different producers. Just some of the highlights
were the Torhout Festival, the Hot Press 5th Birthday Party, and Gateshead Stadium with The Police. At Gateshead, 'U2 took
advantage of the day's upswing to reinforce the numerous claims made on their behalf to be 'the next big thing'. Currently
cooped up in the country getting their third album together, they exploded with a barrage of pent-up energy that no amount
of pastoral activity can fulfil. A CELEBRATION IN BELGIUM On 2nd July 1982, two coaches left London. Destination Belgium. We travelled via
Dover to Calais, through France and over the border into Belgium. After spending the night in Antwerp we travelled on to Torhout,
where the rock festival was held. During one song, much to the delight of the crowd, Bono climbed up the scaffolding
on the side of the stage and sang from a great height. The following song was 'I Fall Down', luckily he didn't. "It's for
you" announced Mr Hewson, and I believe it was. Encore over with, U2 left the stage. They made a great impression on the devoted,
and they also gained some new fans. For me the rest of the show was an anti-climax, although the Talking Heads were good. Whilst leaving the concert ground we saw a red car. I heard a tap on the window and
saw Bono waving at us. We were all wearing U2 t-shirts which had caught his eye. For me this was the final personal touch
I admire so much in U2. A group of weary travellers arrived in Dover eight o'clock Sunday morning, bleary-eyed
and clad in U2 t-shirts, now rather crumpled. As the coach pulled out of Dover, those who weren't asleep sang along to a U2
tape. We had listened to U2 in France, Belgium and Britain almost non-stop since the trip began, I didn't get tired of listening
to them, and I don't think I ever will. One of the earlier articles on U2 in a UK paper. By Dave McCullough, Sounds 15.9.79. The dichotomy that exists between Northern and Southern Ireland is a strange and
jarring one. Travelling south from Belfast you can't but help noticing the hazy, subtle change of most aspects physical and
spiritual which reveals itself in the transition from a louder, snarling land into an altogether more tranquil, withdrawn
countryside. The landscape changes into a sprawling, glorious affair, the pubs (ah, the pubs!) are dimmer and follow their
own sets of rules. the people look different and are less given to thinking out loud, the bulk and body of Ireland resting
on its limbs like some proud and majestic creature, motionlessly purring across its space of time and violence. On the shiny wings of an Aer Lingus 737 tin-can, I was last week reminded of the
culture shock, floating with photographer Paul Slattery over the outskirts of Dublin town. Heathrow had taken its customary
toll on us: loose-tongued security men had interrogated us, degraded us with a series of mindgames designed more to re-assure
the rest of the plane's passengers that they were conventional and safe compared to their hippy/punk/long-haired/shorthaired
victims than to check that the aircraft was indeed secure. The launching pad of English flights was indeed all noise and frenzy
compared to the blank solemnity of Dublin airport, and the gulf of lifestyle and atmosphere was once again brought to mind.
We were in another country, another rock and roll space altogether... The Austin A40 that pulled out of Dublin airport some minutes later confirmed the
notion. The car was a miracle of mechanical endurance, a sort of pathetic progression from pony and trap, Ireland's bid to
keep up with the modern world, and more to the point, as we later discovered, a bid to make big-city top-cats McCullough and
Slattery feel uncomfortable Bono is the lead singer of U2, the most important band to emerge from Ireland since
Boomtown Rats, and the main objective of trip to Dublin in the summer of 179. U2 a very special band and part of a romance
flourished long-distance between Dublin and myself ever since their first demo tape was brought to my attention earlier this
year. The U2 tape, however, was different. Here was a band that defied trends, blends,
or bombast, a band that revealed direction, and downright arrogance, letting you know from the Mickey Mouse confines of a
C60 cassette that had something vital to contribute to the rock and roll of '79. In the ensuing spring months and into early summer, U2 retained a low profile, leading
me to re-establish my ideas of that dichotomy between the British Northern Irish and Southern Irish music scenes wherein Dublin
and Southern Ireland remained quietly uninvolved, content only to throw forth the odd Rats, Horslips, Planxty freak. Then word arrived from U2 to the effect that action was taking place between themselves
and assorted mainland record companies, including CBS, and that other bands were now reaching stages of fruition (hard evidence
including a remarkable tape from the Virgin Prunes) and could well require my attention. In the midst of all this Paul McGuinness,
manager of U2, had made a pointed remark over the phone; "All that's missing over here, really, is somebody with the entrepreneur
skills of a Good Vibes to set things going. There's certainly enough talent about." As the A40 chugged its way into Dublin and U2 men Bono and Adam enthused over their
own music and other bands from the city ("You should see The Atrix while you're over, now they're incredible) what was happening
clear. In rock and roll terms, Dublin was a city that was growing up, like the U2 lyrics say, 'from a boy to a man'... Their set is quite brilliant. It's an often disarming experience travelling out of
London and seeing relatively unknown bands taking on the prima donnas of the Hammersmith Odeon, Marquee and Nashville and
wiping the proverbial floor with them (re: Tours and Undertones in the past) and this was yet another such occasion. U2 are
total, solid music, naturally intended for the head and for the feet, inculcating meaning and innovation, expressing enough
power in communication to knock the unsuspecting listener on his back. Front man Bono is a new r'n'r performer. He takes the genre's tricks of the trade
and tries them out on his audience, shifting their opinions and attitudes. In this sense U2 are unashamedly didactic; they
attack their audience and hope maybe to leave them at the end of the night feeling shifted or moved in their attitudes. Bono,
like the rest of U2 and The Virgin Prunes, study mime in order "to use up every little ounce of space on stage". The effect
is totally absorbing. You follow Bono with your eyes as he counts on his fingers or runs across-stage or spontaneously mimes
something that is impenetrable but apposite to the moody, fat rolling sound. At the Baggot the mike broke in front of him.
Instead of panicking he used the fluke, calling a kid from the audience down front, thrusting the mike into his upheld
hand and using his right arm, as it were, as a mike stand throughout the song. And the songs are splendid, inspired impressions of that big sound the band
seek, from the Skidsian raunch of 'Out of Control', the analytical power of 'Twilight' and 'Stories For Boys' or the speedy
pop of 'Boy Girl' revealing an already established, remarkable songwriting force. Like The Fall or the Zoo bands or Swell
Maps, U2 have thrown the New Wave over their collective shoulders and are now stepping out in the direction of more vital
and contemporary expression while instinctively still retaining the clipped muscularity of the '76 revolution. In this small
space I can but present you with a whisper of the U2 vibe. Suffice to say that a single should be available soon in Ireland
on CBS with an album to follow (tentative title 'Boy') and all hell will break loose over the coming months about this marvellous,
mystical band. It's just a thought, but somebody suggested that if the Boomtown Rats were the John the Baptists of Irish r'n'r,
then U2 must be... Won't you come back tomorrow, Outside, somebody's outside. Won't you come back tomorrow, Who broke the window, who broke Won't you be back tomorrow, Cause I want you, I want you, Reproduced by permission It's falling it's falling, and outside a building comes tumbling down. And what am I to do, This morning I fell out of bed when I woke up to what he had said. And what am I to do, Reproduced by permission October, and the trees are stripped bare Reproduced by permission It's cold outside I hear the children crying A painted face I hear the children crying Say so, say so Say so, say so Reproduced by permission Apart from the fact that Edge's older brother Dik plays guitar in The Virgin Prunes,
there are links between the two bands that go back to their childhoods, and recently Gavin Friday of the V.P.'s shed some
light on their names: "The U2 connections were very strong at an early stage because I grew up with Bono, he lived a few doors
down from me". The friends duly formed into two bands, sharing early gigs such as the Prunes' 1980
UK debut at the Acklam Hall. Together, they invented a private universe for themselves, called Lypton Village, all initiates
speaking "a second language" "As kids, we used to be bored, we usen't to go out much. Bono went out and formed
U2, and what they were expressing was totally different to what we were expressing, so when The Virgin Prunes formed, although
there was this closeness, it was in friendship rather than attitudes and ideas... Like the names: Bono's name, Guggi gave
him that name, and my name, and Davey's, they're all names from Lypton Village, and The Edge. It goes back ten years. But
as the two bands developed we came to our own identities. "But there is a wierd understanding between us. When we were younger one of our biggest
pastimes was, Guggi and Bono were very quick with words, and they used to play a game. All these names, they were just because
of the personality. Before the band was even formed I was called Gavin Friday. Most of us reject our names when we first get
given them, like when Guggi got his name off Bono he didn't like it at all. But we have a feeling that we have to accept our
names whether we like them or not. "And I remember once, Bono was going through some way out trip in his head, wanted
to be cool, and he kept on calling himself Paul Vox, and we said, Don't be stupid, Bono's a really good name - Bono Vox. And
eventually what's natural you just have to accept". As a result of a number of requests, here is a special section through which you
can contact other friends and fans of U2. If you would like to have details of U2 items you're offering for swop, these can
also be included but please keep the listing fairly brief; I can't really print wants lists at the moment as this would take
up too much space. Here are the names and addresses of those who want to start this off. If you would like to be included
in the next issue please send in your name and address. Jeremy Boote, The Homestead, Congleton Road, Mow Cop, Stoke-on-Trent ST7 3PL. LETTERS LETTERS LETTERS LETTERS LETTER If you have any questions about U2 we can answer them here in this section. If you
wish to write to The Edge, Bono. Larry or Adam personally we can pass your on to them, or write direct to SISTER SISTER, 10
St. Margarets Park, Malahide, Co. Dublin. Eire. Dear Geoff, In Austin the night before, a church group asked Bono, Larry and The Edge to their
Sunday service, which the chaps willingly accepted. If anything the joyousness of the faith apparent in U2 might just break
through to the hard-headed, foul-mouthed morons most commonly known as Texans by watchers of 'Dallas'. I haven't witnessed
such exuberance in twenty years. It's not much fun for locals who have latched onto a group to have them taken away slowly
by the rest of the world. It is also, on occasion, beyond those who have not travelled equal distances to understand the changes
that occur in one when he or she is dragged around a massive nation like the U.S., much less an entire world. U2 hasn't forgotten
Ireland; travelling has made them miss it more, but they're going to return home a bit more grown-up than they left. For those
who have not taken this change, already chewed it up and are prepared to spit out the venom at anybody, I ask you to look
again. U2 is the first internationally recognised art to make its way successfully from Ireland in a while; sure they're not
exactly as they were, but neither is Ireland. They left more than a %mall touch of the Irish here in Mexican American territory;
a month after the gig (and then some), two or three mega-concerts after theirs, and this town is still a-buzz with U2. That
alone says something. Dear Geoff, Dear Peter, Dear Geoff, |
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Bono demonstrated his sudden sense of release quite literally by scaling the PA stack beside the stage and crowning it with
a white flag that he'd plucked from the audience, singing 'Electric Col all the while. "There's only one flag and that's a
white flag", he announced with a defiantly peaceful fervour for these aggressive times. There were no real surprises from
the band but the final couple of numbers - 'I Will Follow' and 'Out Of Control' - plus the 'Celebration' encore had an irresistable
force born of a group chemistry that's bubbled into the most precious of rock and roll commodities - charisma. (Hugh Fielder,
Sounds)
The opening act were Allez Allez, who have quite a following in their native country. They were followed by The Members, who
received a warm reception. When they left the stage the crowd became restless. A banner showing Bono's head in profile flapped
regally in the breeze. Final tests on equipment having been made, the road crew left the stage to make way for Bono, Larry,
The Edge and Adam. U2 began with the classic 'Gloria' and were on stage for about an hour. The singing sounded slightly strained
and Bono announced that "the singer is losing his voice". Who cared? As he said, "who needs a voice when it comes straight
from the heart".
I would like to say hallo to the people from Dorset, Manchester, Falkirk and Leicester and everyone else on coaches one and
two. I hope those who exchanged addresses will write and hopefully become friends. If anyone has any good photos I would like
to hear from them and obtain some copies. 
"We wanted to see how you'd react," the vehicle's co-pilot Bono told me much later the following day. We've had people from
record companies who've come over from England and they've taken one look at this car and go 'Whaaat?' Don't worry though,
you both passed the test." 
The tape, recorded in March, was a dazzling account of a band with amazing potential. Demos have an annoying habit of falling
into narrow, obvious categories these days; for the most part they're fad conscious or just plain incompetent.
The sound was roomy and sharp, the songs, like the opening 'Another Time Another Place' reaching vast, breathtaking climaxes,
the music dipping and soaring, taking its roots from everywhere you could imagine but defying direct bonds with the past,
present or, in the grand Bowiean sense, The Future. The Only Ones, Penetration, Banshsees, Fall, all were there in the music
somewhere but the essence was clearly a new (and when was the last time you heard a genuinely new band?), significant name
for the 'now space' as it were, of rock and roll present tense.
Later that night we arrived and I finally had the pleasure of catching the fabled U2 live. The venue was the Baggott Inn which
lives up to its sleazy name with a vengeance. "Tonight is something of a test night." Bono explained. "This is the first New
Wave type gig this place has put on and if it's a success then bands might be able to use it regularly." Gigs are a scarce
commodity in Dublin. Bands, therefore, are hungry and they must search for gigs, as U2 have done. Their labour is not in vain,
either, as the gig this night proves. The band give evidence to their burgeoning popularity in the city by cramming as many
bodies into a scantily publicised Hope And Anchor-type gig as is physically (as opposed to legally) possible.
Guitarist David Edge is the most flamboyant player I've seen since Stuart Adamson of the Skids (a major influence, as they
say) creating a sizeable, unique niche sound that spreads across U2's music with scintillating effect, joining together with
Adam Clayton's bass and Larry Mullin's drums to form what the band constantly seek, namely a wide sound and a big
impression.
"People have always brought comparisons between the bands, musically. But we've never really gone together on musical terms.
If I see Bono, I wouldn't really talk to him about music really. I'd talk about other things. We hate it when people bring
it up, cos they say, Hey, you're in The Virgin Prunes. Well tell us all about U2. We get that a lot, so we hate U2 connections!
It just gets a pain in the arse in this country.
U2 PEN-PALS/SWOPS AND TRADES SECTION 
