ITLM OTRS Presents: Even Better Than The Surreal Thing U2: UV Achtung Baby Live At The Sphere

Feb 24, 2024 admin_bitlc Features, ITLM OTRS, Music News, Reviews 0

By Lonn M Friend

March 15th, 1981, two 24-year-old recent college graduates hop into a lime green Mazda 626 and head for the sleepy San Fernando Valley suburb of Reseda, California, to see a four piece from Dublin, Ireland. Peter Weiss, only son of a Hungarian Rabbi and yours truly, first born of a Chicago piano player, heard an ad on KROQ FM 106.7, touting a special, record release soiree at Wolf & Rissmiller’s Country Club, the dusty but dynamic sounding 600 capacity room located next door to a biker bar. U2 was in town having just unleashed Boy into the streets and stores of America two weeks prior.

When Boy arrived at our favorite local record store, Moby Disc, on March 3rd, 1981, it had me and Peter from the infectious opening riffs of “I Will Follow.” We wore out the grooves like we did on so many other earth-shaking offerings from across the magic pond. We couldn’t wait to see them live. I cranked “Electric Company” so loud at home, it blew a fuse in our apartment. May the ghost of Thomas Edison please forgive me for the low watt pun. Back then, the buzz on a promising new band/album radiated in the ether, beyond media or paid for promotion. It was inexplicable, intangible, whispers, and shouts among friends. Peter and I knew we had to be there to see, hear, and feel for ourselves.

Bono, the Edge, Larry Mullen Jr., and Adam Clayton were so young, the pimples on their cheeks were visible from our table near the rear of the intimate venue. The moment they hit the stage, however, and launched into a brief but blistering 59-minute set, it was obvious to all in attendance that we were bearing witness to the birth of a giant. I remember as they completed the encore, which included repeat plays of “11 O’ Clock Tic Tok,” “The Ocean,” and “I Will Follow,” I asked Peter who the eccentric looking dude with the pink/blue streaks in his hair and scandalously dressed female entourage was at the next table? We quickly discovered it was Queen producer, Roy Thomas Baker. Oh, mama mia, indeed.

Fast forward 43 years and I’m in an alternative universe known as the Sphere – the most technologically advanced mind-blowing venue ever conceived and constructed by mortal man – seeing that same Irish band brothers put on a rock show. But this is not just any rock show, but the fitting latest, greatest live-performance manifestation for not just any rock band. A little personal history prior to what will be an anemic attempt to put into words what I witnessed while inside that massive luminated orb. I’ve followed U2 throughout their storied career, possessed all the LPs and seen them live several times in some fantastical places.

August 12th, 1992, I’m in New York, networking and collecting content for Rip Magazine. As its executive editor, I cultivated relationships across the music biz spectrum and hence, got hooked up a lot. When Zoo TV hit Giant’s Stadium, my pass placed me at the sound board alongside a veritable illuminatus of musical icons. Anthrax’s Charlie Benante introduced me to Sinéad O’Connor. For a solid segment of the eye-popping two-hour set, I found myself sandwiched between Lenny Kravitz (whom I’d met and befriended the previous year via our mag’s special connection to Guns N’ Roses) and Lou Reed. Suddenly I realize that Lou has disappeared. “Lonn, there he is,” says Lenny, as Bono greets his rock hero emerging from a hole in the stage and commence with a hypnotizing duet of “Satellite of Love.” “Every song we’ve ever written was a rip-off of a Lou Reed song,” mused Bono. Far from the truth, a heartfelt homage, nonetheless.

December 2nd, 2001, Elevation tour, Miami’s American Airlines arena. The country still wounded and reeling from 9/11, Bono does what he does best – transforms the venue into a cathedral. A Rock n’ Roll church in full, elevated session. Before segueing from “In God’s Country” into Dylan’s “Knocking’ on Heaven’s Door,” the front man peers down into the pit as a long-haired twenty something catches his eye. Or rather, the kid’s tee shirt, bearing the moniker INXS. Bono was extremely fond of fallen vocalist, Michael Hutchence, and was sincerely shattered by the Australian’s tragic suicide on November 22nd, 1997. Weird, huh? He zeroes in on the fan. “You’re wearing the right shirt. Can you play guitar?” Minutes later, Bono is strapping his acoustic around the shell-shocked special guest. Not quite 15 minutes, but a solid 7 or 8, the kid nails the riffs and enjoys his serendipitous minutes of fame, much to the overwhelming elation of the sold-out crowd. But where the room really rose was during “One” when the names of the 2k plus Twin Towers victims scrolled down a black screen as the song’s mellifluous melodic lament played out. Neck hairs rise, eyeballs well, tonsils trill; 20k fans carrying each other.

James Currie, curator of this fine website, possessed the same curiosity about the Sphere and archetype affection for U2 (we both attended the May 10, 2005, Bono birthday show at United Center) and decided to make the desert trip to roll with me. I grabbed him at Harry Reid airport, swept the Chicagoan straight away for the best beef hoagie in town, Pop’s on Decatur, before a quick stop at Wax Trax Records, a platter hoarder’s dream (or nightmare depending on perspective). Three hours later, we’re star trekking across the bridge between the Venetian Hotel and the Sphere, marching with the masses in an OH WEE OHHH Wizard of Oz like human motorcade to Atomic City.

Hello hello. We’re at a place called Vertigo.

Standing outside, before you even enter the gigantic, glowing round edifice, you feel a bit … off. I arch my neck back to try and capture the curve. One of my favorite Star Trek episodes from the original series was The Tholian Web, season one, 1966. The Enterprise encounters an alien vessel, the Fesarius, a mile in diameter white bulb glowing sphere that dwarfs the federation starship. That’s what it felt like. But inside we would not be greeted by tiny Captain Balock (portrayed by 7-year-old Clint Howard, brother of Academy Award winning filmmaker, Ron Howard), however we did come face to face with a frightening replica of Gort, the alien robot from the 1951 classic, The Day the Earth Stood Still. Cinematic AI from a distant past is one thing. Were we prepared for post postmodern AI in all its technicolor digital glory? Made me dizzy just thinking about it.

Atomic MC Pauli Lovejoy plays a mix of cool, eclectic tunes while traveling through the pit in a Trabant dotted with neon lights. It’s a very Cirque style warmup and gets the audience electromagnetically charged for the magical mystery ride ahead.

We take our dead center seats in the fourth row behind (and above) the sardined-packed floor. That palpable excitement one feels as the lights go down and the concert begins has been there since my very first live adventure, seeing Crosby Still Nash & Young at the LA Forum in 1972. Over a half century, more than a thousand performances across the globe in rooms varying from shoe box sized clubs to the grandest stadiums in the land, this moment, this pregame, this anticipation, the sheer awe of my surroundings – this was brand new. Unreal. No, even better. Surreal.

The screen that envelops the Sphere appears like rusted metallic wallpaper that extends to the very top of the venue. The band members appear – Bono, Edge, Adam, and Dutch drummer, Bram van de Berg (sitting in for Adam while he recovers from surgery) launch into “Zoo Station” and “The Fly” from Achtung Baby, which will eventually be performed in its entirety as the two-hour ten min set ebbs and flows.

It’s song three where the visual ante is upped and you truly cannot believe what you’re seeing. Next level AI animation transports, transmutes and transcends every set of rods and cones in the macular orb. We observe the historical, cultural, archeological entirety of Las Vegas unfold in mesmerizing imagery as “Even Better than the Real Thing” is meticulously delivered. It must be noted that however distracting, entertaining or intoxicating the high-tech eye candy, this is still U2, doing what they do. A rock band killing it for the fans that adore them.

“Mysterious Ways” has long been one of my top five U2 tracks. “If you wanna kiss the sky, better learn how to kneel.” Bono on the pulpit, delivering, as Edge’s monstrous groove and the wicked tribal rhythms lasso our hearts souls and toes, tapping our way to the promised land. “On your knees boy!” Word! “Trying to Throw Your Arms Around the World” gently ends Achtung part one as the Sphere twirls into the Turntable sequence.

I watched a fascinating YouTube video with Bono and Edge discussing the inspiration and evolution of the Sphere residency and learned that Brian Eno was involved in the creation of the rotating stage platform/platter. I’m an ancient Roxy Music head and have been an Eno fan since the birth of glam. I used to study for finals to Music for Airports and Here come the Warm Jets. 801 Live and Lou Reed’s Rock n’ Roll Animal are still my two favorite live albums of the seventies. Yes the seventies; the last decade when people were smart and phones were stupid; before men shaved their heads and woman tattooed their arms. I miss that decade. All that you can’t leave behind, right? Amen.

Eno’s quartet of U2 productions including the flawless collaborations with Daniel Lanois i.e. Unforgettable Fire, Joshua Tree, Achtung Baby and All That You Can’t Leave Behind, represent the band’s watermark creative period. Makes perfect sense he’d contribute to this historic adventure.

After the semi acoustic catch a breath sequence of “All I Want is You” “Desire” “When Love Comes to Town” and “Peace on Earth” (make no mistake, this multimedia extravaganza never fully UNPLUGS) we return to four tracks that conclude Achtung Baby and then enter the hit parade finale where the assault on the senses goes to 11.

The (wait for it) surreal backdrop of the barren Nevada desert landscape during “Where the Streets Have No Name” and the massive, round black Kubrickian Monolith floating on an endless body of blue water behind “With or Without You” had me cross eyed and painless (to borrow from Talking Heads).

One, two or three times I grabbed my iPhone – James was doing most of the AV chronicling – I captured 45 seconds of the floating orb and texted the clip to my old friend, Peter. He messaged me back immediately. “Wow. Long way from the Country Club, dude.” Light years, no doubt.

“Beautiful Day” sends the satisfied, sanctified Sphere throng back into the cool Vegas night. Cue one more of my favorite Bono lyrics. “You’ve been all over, and it’s been all over you.” Here I am, 67 years old, an enteral lover of music since I bought my virgin magic slab of vinyl, Meet the Beatles, the day after the Fab Four’s February 9th, 1964, Ed Sullivan debut. Haven’t had a stereo system since my divorce of ’04. Get my tunes primarily via Apple Music and earbuds these days. Doesn’t matter how far we trek into the tech tonic future or what seismic peeper popping inventions lie ahead, I’ll still get chills when Bono wails his “Elevation” woooo! Because it was, is and will always be about the music.

Which brings me back to that indomitable debut for a concluding metaphorical lyrical reference. “Stories for Boys” and girls, that’s why we’re all here. “There’s a place I go, and it’s part of me/There’s a radio and I will crawl/Sometimes the hero takes me/Sometimes I can’t let go/Hello hello.”

Hope this review didn’t give ya vertigo. Goodbye, goodbye.

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For more on U2, click here

For photos from the show, click here

For more on The Sphere, click here