U2 is back, once again. Are they cool this time?
U2’s 16th album, Luz Carnivaltravels through the band’s history with unabashed pleasure.
Viviane Sassen
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Viviane Sassen
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Perhaps he’s thanking the stars in the Dublin sky or his political consultants – either way, Bono must be feeling pretty lucky these days. U2 is back, and not just because they insisted on re-entering the zeitgeist. No major rock band has faced a twilight era as tumultuous as this one, now half a century into its reign as rock’s preeminent tryout band, a status that has become increasingly unmanageable as age and wealth have pushed its members away from pop’s changing conversation and toward the dreaded status of nostalgia act. In the quest for relevance, U2 made some spectacular mistakes; Relying on the goodwill of their fans, the Irish quartet continued to make money while sliding ever deeper into irrelevance. Bono, the most outgoing rock star since Mick Jagger, saw his children replace him in the celebrity pages and dealt with his health problems. But the celestial bodies have realigned, and Luz Carnival turns out to be the lucky 16th album that made U2 admirable, if not downright cool, again.
Despite some naysayers, this collection of dance tracks and 2 a.m. musings once again justifies U2’s place as blockbuster group capable of surprising, engaging and generate happiness. It follows two recent EPs that served as revival ceremonies and several singles that made it clear that the band is here to play, both in a musical and disruptive sense. An engagement with Latin music, signaled by a bit of Spanish heralded by the album’s title and Bono’s revelation that a track was named after his latest platonic muse Rosalía, happily revealed itself on the album itself less as a strange appropriation than as a reinforcement of the eurotrash cosmopolitanism the band first introduced in 1992. Baby waiting. (His reported response, an amused “Should I sing about that?”, fits the song’s message: They can barely touch the hem of his garment, but will spring out anyway.) At times, U2 has tried to rise to the occasion by engaging in goofy trends, but here, a fundamental commitment to its own historical innovations nourishes an immediacy that feels earned, not forced.
Before the singles showed they’d be back on their old stomping grounds, The Edge had murmured about a “sci-fi Irish folk project,” but beyond a slight increase in the guitarist’s pedal-happy noise generation, this music isn’t experimental at all. It does, however, benefit from some investment in time travel. Like a self-referential version of Terry Giliam’s book Time Bandits, Luz Carnival travels through U2’s history with unabashed pleasure. The opening track “Go (Carnaval De Luz)” begins with a background noise reminiscent of Achtungis “The Fly”. Edge’s guitar slice against Adam Clayton’s bass on “Silencio” recalls 1983’s “Two Hearts Beat as One.” War. “The Greatest Show on Earth” is a ballad reminiscent of the Wim Wenders era, and “Glorify” moves away from 2004’s “Vertigo” to a more direct invocation of grace. Bono takes a tour of his different techniques: beat-poet rap, smooth falsetto, broken, moaning singing. Larry Mullen Jr. shows what expensive physical therapy can do by hitting the drums with the force of a machine gun.
Religious and profane, aggressive and generous, the songs Luz Carnival adding new layers to U2’s defining concerns: what it means to have a sense of mission in a world geared toward instant gratification, and how hard and good it can be to keep searching for the meaning of the word soul.
On this subject, it is notable that Bono’s lyrics have become more direct in their outright expressions of Christian faith. He’s still a goddess lover – the unnamed “face of the future” in “La Reina” joins a harem of his divine female muses – and an anti-dogmatic believer, as “Torn”, apparently the last song Dolly Parton recorded, makes clear. This particular goddess shared Bono’s stubborn belief that people are fundamentally good, especially when enriched by faith, and that love your neighbor remains possible; their collaboration will touch certain hearts, but will push the limits of sentimentality by deploring the loss of the ecumenical ideal.
Faith remains the central focus of this group and clearly seems more urgent to Bono today than in the 90s, when he first openly indulged in lemon a pressure of earthly pleasure. We are closer to heaven now; it’s the album of an older, thoughtful and repentant man. “Street of Dreams” begins with the very psalm-like phrases, “God, hear me cry,” and in “Glorify,” he addresses those who reject the spiritual with the ultimate Jesus-like inflection, snarling, “There’s nothing you can do to stop me from loving you.” Casual fans who are not religious may be uncomfortable with such fervor. Those who don’t mind preaching a little will appreciate the way he continues to play with that tradition, like on “Midnight Sunshine,” a bubblegum soul number that centers around the pantheistic punchline, “You say God doesn’t care about us anymore / I say the stars are only there for us to shine.” Mundane on the page, Bono’s words find the light they need through a melody that feels like a mnemonic device or, yes, a prayer. It’s something he’s said before, a little pep talk to stay connected. Dogma breaks things, but the night is illuminated; let’s dance.
U2 tries to maintain this agility throughout Carnival of Luz, and above all succeeds. In doing so, the Time Bandits encounter the moment they landed. Whether by chance or Spidey’s common sense that U2 chose a release date right after the US midterm elections that solidified the return of liberal confidence, this music runs on a similar energy. As with many recently impactful campaigns, humor plays a key role in making U2’s bolder messages palatable. Sometimes this takes the obvious form of a play on words, as when Bono quotes Ernest Hemingway’s remark. famous quip about his favorite cocktails in “Silencio”, but it’s mostly in the music itself. This is where Adam Clayton’s secret weapon bass playing makes the difference. The bop of Motown and the bubbling syncopation of lovers rock illuminate his style; here these rhythms act as a counterpoint to the dynamics of Mullen’s drums and Bono’s passionate declarations. Bono knows how to turn a phrase in Clayton’s direction while Edge’s guitar creates static around the two, so that his heavier statements fizz a little and change their meaning. This playfulness among the band members is what makes a song like “The Mirror Maker (Rosalía)” not just a comedy but a genuine expression of respect for a young artist. Longtime studio allies Brian Eno and Jacknife Lee ensure that the atmosphere is conducive to this interaction. Instead of the big skies of the Daniel Lanois era or even the overlooked 2009 gem Eno helm No line on the horizonthe production of this album emphasizes agility and fun.
Even the big ballad “The Greatest Show on Earth,” a tribute to the illuminated cathedrals that U2 makes of stadiums when they play “With or Without You” on their world tours, is shot through with enough ancient energy to save it from navel-gazing heaviness. Bono’s version of Peggy Lee singing “Is That All There Is”, with Courvoisier in hand, the song meditates on the many marriages that make up a life. Naming heartache and productive codependency, he may be talking to his real wife, Ali, who has been with him as long as he has had that ridiculous name. Regarding a dream gone dusty, he seems caught up with his bandmates, coaxing them into the spotlight once more. But when he sings “Breathe on me and I’m love and I’m lux”, it is a force beyond these intimates that he welcomes – on the one hand, the spirit that guides him, and on the other, the fans that he always insists form a congregation. Clayton and Mullen turn those spotlights into sharp points, keeping Bono from settling too firmly into his grandiose gestures, and the Edge delivers the dizzying guitar lines that made them work in the first place. This torch song transforms into an invocation of the soul, evoking Aretha and the Sweet Emotions; All he can do, Bono realizes, is say this little prayer. For him, for the band, for the moment we’re stuck and – even if you’re not a fan – for you.
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