Brian Eno is MORE DARK THAN SHARK

INTERVIEWS, REVIEWS & RELATED ARTICLES

Musician OCTOBER 1984 - by J.D. Considine

U2: THE UNFORGETTABLE FIRE

Turning Point: U2 mixes textural growth with thematic ambiguity in a view of Mythical America.

This isn't the U2 record anybody would have expected, and it's probably the better for it. Certainly, the band hasn't lost any of its fire - the jubilant vigor of Pride (In The Name Of Love) is proof enough of that - but neither do they feel compelled to burn at peak intensity throughout the album. And though not every chance the band takes pays off for them, this is an unmistakable turning point for U2.

To begin with, The Unforgettable Fire is utterly intent on making a point, but at the same time, equally determined not to make a big deal out of doing so. Thus, the album is given a potently metaphoric title, but counteracts that with a blithely solipsistic title song. It doesn't quite neuter the album's sense of purpose, but it does incline the listener to be cautious when leaping to conclusions about What It All Means. Which, I suppose, is only fair, because a great deal of the album focuses on America, a subject which Bono and the boys are better off not being decisive about. After all, part of the strength of the American myth is its indeterminacy, its underlying mystery, and by doing little more than dropping clues and making allusions, U2 manages to be more evocative than if they'd been specific.

This is breathtakingly true of Pride (In The Name Of Love), which sidetracks its tribute to the Reverend Martin Luther King's non-violent struggle for civil rights through brash sloganeering. In a way, it's almost a slap at their earlier songs, in which the desire to say something subsumed the message itself, until it sinks in that King died for ideas as basic as these slogans, a realization that's as invigorating as it is frightening. U2 doesn't manage that level of revelation very often, though, and the album as easily lapses into the rambling reflections of Elvis Presley And America, a song that couldn't possibly live up to its title (and God help Bono if he thinks it does, because he ought to know more about both). Still, where the power of the lyrics sometimes wavers, the dynamism of the music never falters. Part of this is because The Edge has expanded his keyboard forays to include synthesizer, an instrument he plays with the same sensitivity to texture as he does the guitar. He makes 4th Of July wonderfully wistful, and adds a cinematic sweep to the middle of the title tracks that's the album's most majestic moment. Of course, the treatments producer Brian Eno has added help, too, although drummer Larry Mullen seems to benefit most from the sound-sculpture. Best of all, Bono himself has begun to use his voice to orchestral effect, playing with texture and phrasing as he layers his vocals, so that he can deliver everything from the assured power of A Sort Of Homecoming to the raw agony of Bed to the raspy reflection of Elvis Presley And America with the expected verve.

It's that last, by the way, that makes me want to ignore the album's flaws, and which seems likely to ultimately put this band over the top in America, because it's the same unassuming confidence that has been a hallmark of all great rock acts. And if it comes through this strongly on an album that clearly falls short of their potential, just imagine how bright they'll burn when they do reach that peak.