With or without youth, U2 forges on

U2: All That You Can't Leave Behind

A long, long time ago, across an ocean, an angry young man named Peter Townshend made his most famous contribution to the rock and roll mythos, writing, "Hope I die before I get old." The question of whether or not Townshend was right has raged in the genre's subconscious ever since, and, not surprisingly, most musicians have come down solidly on the side of hanging around. Is there anyone who doubts that Townshend himself wouldn't give the world to have Keith Moon back? Still, however ironic the line may have turned out to be, it speaks to an issue all rock musicians must confront at some point—aging in a medium that fundamentally defines itself by its youthful impulses and desires.

This dilemma has hit U2 squarely in the face. Vocalist Bono and bassist Adam Clayton both turned 40 this year; guitarist The Edge and drummer Larry Mullen get there in 2001. In U2's case, the dilemma is complicated by success. The Joshua Tree, Achtung Baby, and their respective tours gave the members of U2 fame and wealth beyond their wildest imaginations. As a result, for much of the '90s they seemed directionless. Zooropa was almost an afterthought in the wake of the ZooTV tour, and it is difficult to see Pop as much more than a curious studio experiment, especially in light of their latest effort, All That You Can't Leave Behind. Though it is clear that U2's fascination with electronica has carried over from Pop, All That You Can't Leave Behind signals a definite return to mainstream rock instrumentation and production, with lots of guitars and keyboards swirling around in wide open spaces. Similarly, the band's innate sense of melody, sometimes buried on Pop, has resurfaced. There's a lot of strong material here; "Beautiful Day" and "Stuck in a Moment You Can't Get Out Of" rank with U2's strongest compositions, no faint praise for a group responsible for songs like "New Year's Day" and "With or Without You."

Yet all this aside, something is missing. The danger and sense of urgency that used to pervade U2's music has almost completely disappeared. As a result, its performances suffer immeasurably. "Walk On" and "Kite" both feel as if they could be classic U2 anthems, but the group sounds as if it's struggling to work up the requisite energy. Bono makes periodic forays into soaring emotion but the band can never support him for very long. The album suffers from a lyrical malaise as well. For all Pop's flaws, its message was profoundly disturbing in its bleak, almost nihilistic world-view. Insofar as All That You Can't Leave Behind has a profound message, it is one of reassurance and sympathy but little overall effect. Even when Bono attacks an issue he cares about, as on "Peace on Earth," the best he can do is, "Where I grew up/There weren't many trees/Where there was we'd tear them down/And use them on our enemies." One can scarcely believe that this is a man whose thoughts on the subject once ran, "Broken bottles under children's feet/Bodies strewn across the dead-end street/But I won't heed the battle call."

Why this lack of urgency? The guess here is that it results from the paired demons of age and success. One can only wonder if the allusion to Pink Floyd's "Eclipse" in the litany of "all that you"s at the end of "Walk On" is intentional, but it is certainly fitting. "Eclipse" closes out Dark Side of the Moon, an album about ennui; All That You Can't Leave Behind is an album with a bad case of it. (Polygram)

—John Hyman

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