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U2: Magnificent

On Saturday September 12, 2009, 65,000 fans embarked on a journey to Soldier Field. Located right on Lake Michigan, the stadium, normally home to the Chicago Bears, transformed into a temple to the one common religion on earth: music. U2, fresh off the band’s adventures in Europe, began the U.S. leg of the 360 tour in a city that was home to me for twenty-three years. I got wind of the concert in Spring of this year and, via an auction, bid on two tickets in the Red Zone. Only one person could possibly be my date for this show - my sister, who, twenty-two years ago, convinced our parents to let me take a Grayhound bus to Champaign Urbana, where, via a lottery, at $15 a piece, she purchased six seventh-row center-stage tickets to the band’s Joshua Tree tour.

That specific album was, as Malcolm Gladwell would say, U2’s tipping point: it pushed the band over from a popular college group into a monumental, enduring musical force matched only by the likes of The Rolling Stones and Madonna. Thus, today, even in the most difficult of economic times, these musical acts are recession-proof (or, as my economics professors would say, they have “inelastic demand.”) and millions across the globe opened their wallets to escape reality, to get transformed and to just feel damn good. I, too, bit the proverbial bullet. And, after almost nine months of cost-cutting, budget watching and massive lifestyle changes, the investment was well worth it.

When my sis and I got to the stadium, after a one mile hike from the parking garage, and picked up our tickets, we were directed into the special Red Zone 2 section, where we were told to put away those same tickets, as by this point we had bracelets on indicating our location. Not only were we right in front of the 360 catwalk, but we also had access to private restrooms, private food stands and private merchandise counters. But, the truth was, we didn’t come to this concert for the external privileges. While nice, our main desire and focus was seeing one of the greatest living bands alive perform some of the most inspiring and memorable songs of the past three decades. And, we were not alone, as evidenced by the stadium masses. As my cousin later put it “Millions of people, singing along to every lyric of every song.”

Instead of trying any feeble attempts to describe the futuristic spaceship stage with the moving screen, the 360 degree surrounding catwalk and the bridges that connect the two, I’ll let the photos speak for themselves. I will, however, do my best to convey the essence of the concert and the sound of the powerhouse known to the globe as U2.

But first, a brief and necessary mention of the opening band, Snow Patrol. While most of their music played on the radio bores me to tears, hearing the musicians live gave me a new appreciation for the melodic sound and poetic lyrics. Additionally, the lead singer sported a Chicago Bears t-shirt and seemed genuinely happy - no, giddy - to be opening for U2 and promised all of us “the greatest night of our lives.” I also happened to be at the right place at the right time and watched the band’s “exit right” as the adorable young men all made their way right past me. A certain momentum had built and set the tone for what was next.

For the next thirty minutes or so, the crew, technical people, cameramen, roadies and a security team large enough to rival that of the President, prepared the stage for an unprecedented music and light show, something that felt once in a lifetime and yet incredibly alive and in the moment. We could all tell that something big was going to happen and the energy in the stadium generated a certain cohesive, happy vibe. At a time when the country, our country, feels so divided on so many critical issues, I sensed a certain relief knowing that the 20 somethings and the 40 somethings, the men and the women, the Democrats and the Republicans, the immigrant Americans and the native born Americans, the Catholics and the Sikhs, and everyone in between, all had one thing in common: we wanted to be rocked and we wanted it right now.

Not a moment too soon, the lights went down and smoke started to come out of the spaceship. David Bowie’s “Major Tom” blasted from the giant, surrounding speakers and the adventure began to sink in. “4...3...2...1...” To our right we could see that the band mates entered the stadium. Then, one by one, each entered the stage, starting with Larry, the drummer. Then Adam, Edge, and, finally, Bono. The crowd cheered and the people standing next to me were not only smiling and clapping but most, many in U2 gear, were also taking photographs. As the thousands of flashes went off, people wanted to capture the moment: to do anything so that it can be preserved and relived.

U2 opened the concert with “Breathe,” one of the songs off of the new No Line on the Horizon album. The title track followed and, after that, my favorite song, perhaps, ever, from this group of Irishmen, “Magnificent,” erupted from the speakers. This particular track pinpricked my soul for a multitude of reasons. Not the least of which is the human condition known as RBH - a recently broken heart, broken by an Irishman for whom, earlier this summer, I made a mix cd which began with this very song; a song the Irishman specifically said was “the perfect song” to articulate his feelings about us and what happened 12 years ago: “Only love, only love can leave such a mark; But only love, only love can heal such a scar.” And, as U2 performed it, in the present, one month after there is no more us, hearing it outside, on a stunning evening, with my sister next to me and 65,000 new friends, “Magnificent” helped in the mending process. It was finally time to let go and move on and I had the greatest (and biggest) support group on my side.

After one more track off of the new album, “Get On Your Boots,” the band began to give the audience what we really wanted - a cornucopia of songs that took us back to our childhoods, our college years, our first jobs, first apartments, first live-in loves, first grown-up failures and our first economic recession. Chances are that, for each audience member at least one song brought us back to a pivotal life moment - good or bad - and, when the whole world may have seemed to abandon any one of us, this band - on record, tape, cd or iPod - was and is still with us. We grew up on U2 and U2 grew up with us.

The song list included the following: “Where the Streets Have No Name,” “All That You Can’t Leave Behind,” "With or Without You," “It’s a Beautiful Day,” “Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For,” “Stuck in Moment You Can’t Get Out Of,” "Vertigo (Uno, Dos, Tres, Catorse)," “Walk On” and “City of Blinding Lights,” a song not lost on anyone familiar with the stunning Chicago skyline at night. U2 then performed three tracks that the loyalists greatly appreciated: “Unforgettable Fire,” "Sunday, Bloody Sunday,” and the majestic “Bad.”

I would have absolutely loved to hear “All I Want is You,” but it didn’t make it to the song list. Neither did “Mysterious Ways,” “Desire” nor anything off of Zooropa. In fact, after a brief break, when the band resumed the stage, and performed “One,” it was the only song off Achtung Baby, a critically acclaimed album the band recorded in East Berlin just as the wall came down.

The most recent album was recorded in Morocco and U2’s geographical and global awareness translated itself into a video paying tribute to Iranian women, with a poem appearing on the large screen. Additionally, masks of an Asian freedom activist who has been under home arrest for the past two decades were passed out in advance and Bono asked everyone to put them on during a certain song. Personally, I could care less for the political messages. But, then, unless you live under a rock, you know that U2 is nothing if not politically active. Luckily, Bono and the band kept the politics to a minimum and focused on the music and on courting Chicago like a man on a first date trying to get some by the night’s end.

Bono must have mentioned the city’s name 100 times and, at one point, stated “We Irish like to think we’ve contributed something to your skyline... We (the Irish) are the wind in the Windy City.”

Before the first encore was over, U2 also played “Baby Light My Way” and asked the audience to take our cell phones out to create a constellation in the stadium. The last song of the first act was the mellow “Moment of Surrender.”

The second encore took on an electric feel, with Bono coming out on stage in a black jacket equipped with red laser beams pointing in various directions. “All you need is love,” he reminded us, “and a spaceship.” U2 then performed a techno version of “I'll Go Crazy If I Don't Go Crazy Tonight.” While not a fan of the original recording, the live performance kicked the proverbial ass on so many levels. My sis and I felt like we were in a Eurotrash techno club. To boot, Larry, now on portable bongos, Adam, Edge and Bono made excellent use of the 360 catwalk and paraded around the entire circumference of the stage, walking right in front us, bringing us to perfect, high-energy joy.

U2 finished the last set with the remaining songs off No Line on the Horizon, including “Unknown Caller,” “Stand Up Comedy,” “Cedars of Lebanon,” and “White as Snow.” I hear that Sunday’s show had three encores, but, then, Sunday’s audience did not witness the opening night of the U.S. tour.

By the end of the show, with the perfect cloudless, dark sky, the perfect cool, lake breeze and the perfect behind-the-catwalk spot that gave visibility to the perfect rock band, my cheeks were aching from smiling so much, my voice was sore from singing and shouting and my feet, in their sexy boots, were beyond numb. At a time of so much life uncertainty, U2 had given all of us something concrete, something memorable and something truly magnificent.

For concert photos, click here

The Pretenders: Special, So Special

Before there was Beyonce or Britney, but right around the same time as Blondie, a female force swept the rock scene by storm. Her name was Chrissie Hynde, she was born in Akron, Ohio, and the only thing she wanted to do was play music. Living in London, hanging with Syd Vicious and firmly focused on the craft, Chrissie eventually led the band The Pretenders serving in multiple roles: as lead singer, song writer and guitarist. Unlike most of her female counterparts of the day (Debbie Harry excluded) Chrissie formed her own sound, her own look and damned the consequences. This took guts, and, given the music climate, she pioneered the way, making it hot for chicks to jam on guitar, swear like truck drivers and, yet, look like sexy babes, all at the same times.

Not only is fifty-seven year old Chrissie a rock n' roll veteran, but she's also a rock n' roll wife veteran, with former marriages to (and daughters with) Kinks lead singer Ray Davies and Simple Minds lead singer Jim Kerr (who later married Patsy Kensit (who went on to marry one of the Oasis brothers...) In 2005 The Pretenders was inducted into the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame, with Chrissie being one of the very few women whose name made it on the highly bias and often questionable list. (If my math is correct, of the 234 acts inducted only 24 are women, as solo artists or as part of groups.) And, unlike many of her Rock Hall peers, she doesn't rest on her laurels, but continues to create great music.

Several months ago, while listening to Chicago's WXRT Radio (on line), I heard this fabulous two and half minute song that just blew me away: the road trip rhythm, the folk punk guitars, the visual language made me think that XRT was playing a retro track. Turned out it was "Boots of Chinese Plastic," The Pretenders new song from the new album, Break Up the Concrete. I immediately downloaded the song from i-tunes, sat down and, with "Boots" on repeat, wrote the first date scene of my screenplay around this killer track, focusing on romantic leads Marianne and Jacob walking around downtown Cleveland, as the fast-paced song stops and starts. Repeat. In fact, towards the later part of of the screenplay process, I changed the original opening song from "So Long, Marianne," (the song that first inspired for the story), to a song that better fit the mood that needs to be staged in the flashback scene of Mid-80's Cleveland: "My City Was Gone." With Chrissie singing about Northeast Ohio and a "government that had no pride," no other piece quite sets the scene as her long-ago lyrics do.

Suddenly, I had a new respect, love and interest for The Pretenders. Thus, a few weeks ago, (and prior to knowing my surgery date) after accidentally coming across the information that The Pretenders had scheduled an appearance at Cleveland's House of Blues, I made the decision that, even during unemployment, some things are worth the money. So, after dinner with a friend on East 4th Street, I walked into House of Blues and purchased two General Admission tickets.

This past Sunday night, good friend and former Statler neighbor Sonia came over to watch the Grammys with me. Truth be told, she came over to see how I was recovering, but a music award show and pizza was as good excuse as any to spend some quality time together. While watching the star-studded event (I thought we were both going to lose it when Coldplay performed one of the best songs written in years, "Viva La Vida"), Sonia looked at an old issue of Blender magazine on my coffee table, which featured Chrissie Hynde, and spoke about how her recent album was heavily influenced by her homecoming to Akron. (Look for the "Akron Witnessed First" t-shirt she wears in the "Boots of Chines Plastic" video, referencing, of course, LeBron James.).

"The Pretenders are coming to Cleveland," Sonia told me. "Yeah," I replied, "and I have an extra ticket. Wanna be my date?" "Sure."

So, with bruises, stitches and bandages (and very recent clean bill-of-health news!), I met Sonia at House of Blues on Tuesday night, thinking we would be clever by eating dinner there, in order to cut through the back way to the concert later, thus avoiding the outside line. Well, with a forty-five minute waiting list, all of Cleveland had the same idea. Sonia and I finally found a bar table, had small meals and headed to the pavilion. I knew I would not be able to dance, jump or go crazy, and realized I'd have to spend most of the concert just standing and clapping, otherwise known as being your average white person. Also, HOB posted sings everywhere saying "No pictures!" (Damn!) But, with my own black patented (made in China) boots on, I was ready to enjoy the music.

As HOB decided the put all non-floor & bar stool seats "on reserve" (the bastards), we had no choice but to stand in a crowded mosh pit of sorts, except the average age was about 45. The opening group "American Band" sucked. Really. Bunch of stoner looking dirty tattooed dudes whose sound was more cacophonous than my ears could handle. The frustration magnified itself due to the annoying Amazon chick in front of us, who insisted on moving around. A lot.

Finally, the opening band left the stage, but this also meant that all those lazy peeps who didn't want to stand through Act 1, now crowded the dance floor, creeping in tight, leaving little room between themselves and the already there patient audience. At one point, as territorial tensions began to fly, a fight almost broke out. My patience was expiring, my forehead was perspiring and I told Sonia "I wish I had laser beams that could shoot out of my eye balls and disseminate the people in front of me." I mean, how cool would that be, of course, given I would be the only one with this special power?

But. Then. The lights dimmed. And. There She Was.

Looking exactly like she does on tv (and slightly grayer then when I walked past her on the Chicago intersection of Belmont and Broadway about a decade ago), Chrissie, still as thin as ever, with thick black eye liner and bangs in her eyes, took her guitar and took control of the stage immediately.

The Pretenders opened with "Boots of Chinese Plastic" and got everyone pumped. The band then went into classics "Message of Love" and "Don't Get Me Wrong." Chrissie paid homage to her early punk days by changing the Bridget Bardo reference in the former song to "like Morrissey." (yeah!). The band then played a pretty song with lyrics "I keep it simple, you keep it true," and, in case anyone thought Chrissie was going soft, after this number, she took to the mike and ripped "You wanna take my picture. Here. (pose). Take my fuckin' picture." And, in case, at this point anyone doubted her authentic spirit, she frankly told the audience "We're gonna play the new stuff now. So go to the bar. Get a beer. Whatever." When was the last time any artist had a sense of humor, especially about new material?

The Pretenders, with killer musicians, young and young at heart (the drummer has been with the band for 30 years) played some of the new songs. Good, solid stuff. I think one song was called "Rosalee." Another was called "Love's a Mystery," and one song Chrissie dedicated to "my second favorite guy. This is the guy I can't be with because I'm too busy for him." And, later, she apologized for the sound of her voice because "I haven't been taking care of myself. What are you gonna do?"

This vulnerability that she displayed seemed so refreshing from the highly-marketed, pre-packaged, obviously-sampled and overly-choreographed music that seems to bombard us at every corner. We're all told how image is such a critical aspect of the entertainment industry, how you're only worth what you look like and how your agent, publicist, producer, director, corporate vice president seems to know what is best for you, as an artist. And here's Chrissie, approaching 60, a mother of two, who has known and partied with four decades of musicians, from the U.S., to England, to France and back to the U.S., again, with gray hair, a dry throat and absolutely no apologies. She's still pretty, she's still thin. And, during a few numbers, she even danced, on stage, shaking her thing and showing many of us that being a woman and being a rock star, on your own terms, are not mutually exclusive. Truth be told, she's paid her dues, for nearly forty years. And, now, she gets to do what she wants, and how she wants it. Including, mid-song, telling us to put away cameras.

She also recognized that she is where she is because of her fans. And, after some of the new numbers, the band performed "Stop All Your Sobbing," and the classic "Back on the Chain Gang." Then, an odd request to us "What do you wanna hear?" At that point The Pretenders went into the song that, on the eve of Reagonomics, first put the band on the map, "Brass in Pocket." The crowd went nuts. Who could forget the video, of gum-chewing Chrissie in a waitress outfit, with pencil tucked in that beehive, taking orders from the then-bandmates?

After "Brass", the musicians went into a rockabilly tune, at which point Chrisse called us a bunch of "hillbillies" and then made the comment "We promised you country, but we'll give you punk."

Next was "Cuban Slide," with its Bo Diddley beat (whom Jenn B. and I saw at the same stage, about 4 years ago, may he rest in peace) and performed another Bo Diddley tune, the title song off Break Up the Concrete. And just like that, the band signaled how timeless its' music is and how it can borrow from blues, punk, folk, rock and country and morph it into the signature Pretenders sound.

Towards the end of the show, Chrissie admitted that she "used to live in Parma." When the theater lights finally went on, despite a great encore of four tracks, to much of our disappointment, "My City Was Gone" never made it to the song list. Perhaps, now that she's opened her veggie restaurant in Akron and has made her birthplace a second home of sorts, Chrissie has a certain pride about Northeast Ohio that the government never (and still does not) have. Perhaps, if her feelings were contagious, Ohio's banks could remain independent, people could afford to keep their houses, the Governor would pass the film tax incentive bill into law and the state could blossom, again. That would be special.