Showing posts with label Gillette Stadium. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gillette Stadium. Show all posts

Friday, September 25, 2009

U2 “Beautiful Day”

I’ve been writing about seeing U2 live all week, so let me end the week of entries on a down note, and tell you about the guy who ruined the U2 show.

Oh, I bet you’ve seen this guy before. He’s the reason I rarely go to Stadium shows. Too many meatheads.

A backwards ball-cap wearing, text-message typing showboat.

He was in the seat right in front of us, hanging out with his buddies. He was a mega-U2 fan, and he wanted to be sure everyone in our area knew it.

He sang every word to every song. Loudly. I mean, U2 brings a pretty good sound system with them, but I could hear this jackass as clear as day.

When Bono was talking (and there was nothing for the Dude to sing), he held up his phone and text-messaged people.

He danced to every upbeat song. Which is great. I think you should dance at shows. But you shouldn’t dance if a) you keep crashing in to the stranger standing next to you, and b) if your only dance move is the Axl-Rose-serpentine move. Over and over again.

Will it surprise you to hear that he was sucking down beer after beer? So we at least got a respite from the snake dance and the singing, every third song, as he awkwardly disrupted everyone in his row to get a beer.

But it’s better! After finishing the beer, he’s put dip in his lip. So he’s singing at the top of his lungs, with big black ooze running over his lips. And he was kind enough to turn away from the band, every time he needed to spit in his plastic cup. Thank God Bono didn’t have to see that! Unfortunately, we did.

My wife and I were taking bets as to when the guy was going to puke.

But I really wanted to puke myself, when the band started to play “Beautiful Day.”

Instead of singing, he turned to face us, his eyes scanning the crowd behind us (to see how many people were watching him). He then raised his arms above his head, like a preacher praising God, closed his eyes, and just nodded his head for the rest of the song.

And now this is was I have to see in my mind, when I hear “Beautiful Day.” Thanks, Jerk.

Hear U2 “Beautiful Day”

See a U2 live performance, sans obstructive-Losers, here

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

U2 “Breathe” & David Bowie “Space Oddity”

Travis came out to the theme from Rocky. The Reverend Horton Heat arrived to the strains of “Also Sprach Zarathustra” from the movie “2001.” The Blues Brothers famously used an Otis Redding track.

What song a band uses, for their arrival on stage should say a lot about the band, and about the show they’re about to put on.

It has to be something that sets the mood. It probably shouldn’t be something by the band itself. Something familiar is nice, but you don’t want it to be a song that would suggest that you are on par with someone else’s level of fame or talent (i.e. Don’t come out to a Beatles song).

On the fan side, you are sitting there with great anticipation of seeing your favorite band. You’re waiting for the venue lights to go down, and the show to start. You know all your questions will be answered shortly (“Will they play my favorite song? What will they start with? What will they cover?”) And those questions begin to be answered with that introductory track.

Last Sunday at Gillette Stadium, we waited for, what seemed like forever. There must’ve been an hour between the supporting act’s set, and the beginning of U2’s set.

The enormous Space Station-looking set loomed large in the full stadium light, as the wife and I ate our popcorn dinner, asking those above questions.

U2 answered with David Bowie---an apt, but not immediately obvious influence.

Because yes, like Bowie, U2 have pulled of the successful trick of several re-inventions. They’ve achieved Stadium-level fame, iconic status. And they have both used their music to approach their fascination with space, the earth, and viewing humanity from within and without.

We captured this moment I’m talking about on video, here, where you can see the minutes before the show starts, the Bowie intro, a Larry Mullen drum solo, and the beginning of the opening U2 song, Breathe.

Hear the original Bowie song here

Hear the original U2 song here

And see the video we show at my sister-site blog, Every Day I Video The Blog

Monday, September 21, 2009

U2 “City Of Blinding Light”

I saw U2 for the first time, this past Sunday night, at Gillette Stadium. I can hardly believe it has taken me this long to see one of my long-time favorite bands, live.

I started listening to U2, as many folks my age did, when “Gloria” became a regular part of the rotation on the early days of MTV. I’ve followed them through the peaks and valleys of their career, listened to all the records, watched the music videos, and have seen them “In Concert” on VHS and DVD many times over.

So I wasn’t surprised to see Bono pull someone out of the crowd and onto the stage on Sunday night.

I can remember seeing them on TV at Live Aid back in 1985. I knew they had only a 20 minute set, and I couldn’t believe they were stretching out the song “Bad,” to epic proportions. But Bono had ventured into the crowd, and pulled out a young woman, with whom he slow danced.

The first time I watched it, I was bummed because they only were able to do 2 songs for their set. But I remember being struck by the image of him quietly slow dancing with this stranger, surrounded by a packed, screaming, Wembley Stadium crowd.

And on repeated viewings, I was moved by it. And I know it was a regular part of the U2 experience.

So when Bono pulled out the familiar trope on Sunday night, I felt like I had seen it. But then I saw the spin.

Up on the outer-rim catwalk of the stage, Bono was running with, and singing to, a young girl. I’m going to guess she was about 12 years old.

He was singing “City Of Blinding Light” to her. I’d heard that this was a love letter to New York City, written shortly after September 11th, 2001.

But as he was singing it, my wife turned to me and said “He’s giving her advice . . .”

The more you see the less you know
The less you find out as you go
I knew much more then than I do now

Bono had gone parental. He had been a peer, dancing with all of us. But now he’s a Dad, and his message can be recalibrated for a new generation.

Hear U2 “City Of Blinding Light”

See some pictures, take by the lovely Mrs. Finn, here.