Newsgroup: it.fan.musica.u2
Titolo: Lunghissimo e inglese, ma vale

Tante cose, che fa la band quando Bono non c'è, perché l'album si 
intitola così, perché gli U2.
DUBLIN -- THROUGH the windows of Hanover Quay, the rehearsal and 
recording studio that U2 has called HQ for the last two decades, 
streetlights made rippling patterns on the Liffey, the river that runs 
through Dublin, matching the shimmering overtones coming from the Edge's 
guitars as the band ran through songs from its new album, "How to 
Dismantle an Atomic Bomb" (Interscope).
Gearing up for a year of promotion and touring to follow the release of 
the album on Nov. 23, U2 was methodically at work, translating 
multilayered studio creations into songs that would allow four musicians 
to rock arenas again. U2 is to play a handful of small-scale shows this 
month, including an appearance Nov. 20 on "Saturday Night Live," and 
will start a world tour of arenas and stadiums on March 1 in Miami.
The Edge had two dozen guitars at his feet, and an assistant noted which 
guitar, which effect and which setting would be used for each section of 
each song. Larry Mullen on drums and Adam Clayton on bass were 
scrutinizing rhythm tracks, trying to strip away clutter without losing 
swing.
As the band plunged into "Vertigo" and "All Because of You," the sound 
of early U2 - the Who's power chords blasted into U2's own domain of 
spaciousness and yearning - was merged with an added 25 years of 
experience, experiments and world-beating success. Standing with one leg 
forward and one behind him, Bono rocked back and forth and belted, "I'm 
at a place called Vertigo/It's everything I wish I didn't know/Except 
you give me something I can feel."
Tensions between intellect and passion, and between pragmatism and 
faith, drive the songs on "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb"; so do burly 
guitar riffs, galvanizing crescendos and fearlessly emotional vocals. 
The album easily stands alongside the best work of U2's career - "Boy," 
"War," "The Joshua Tree" and "Achtung Baby" - and, song for song, it's 
more consistent than any of them.
U2 is almost alone now among rock bands in its determination to merge 
lofty ambition and pop impact. With songs that determinedly blur divine 
and earthly love, seeking grace as often as romance, the band doesn't 
pander to vulgar impulses. Yet U2 has no interest in being a hipsters' 
cult band; it has always aimed for audiences that can fill arenas, where 
its music is most at home. "At our very best, at anyone's very best, the 
great rock bands could always make a pop 45," Bono insisted.
Since the release of "Boy" in 1980, U2 has gone through musical phases 
that coincided with the decades. The group arrived with a wide-open, 
pealing sound that immediately separated itself from punk rock and 
metal, and has been imitated ever since. Next came an infatuation with 
American blues and country. Then, in the 1990's, U2 swerved from rootsy 
to futuristic, deliberately setting aside its old sound to toy with 
distortion, funk and electronics. Each metamorphosis produced at least 
one superb album.
"It's really more my fault than Edge's, the putting on of blinkers and 
going in a different direction," Bono said. "I felt that the spirit of 
the group was so strong that you could destroy it, that you could burn 
the flesh of it and still know who it was, and that's what we did 
through the 1990's."
In 2000, with "All That You Can't Leave Behind," U2 decided to stop 
fleeing its past and let its music ring more clearly. The four songs 
that start the album became anthems of hope and determination, 
particularly after Sept. 11, but the rest was anticlimactic. "How to 
Dismantle an Atomic Bomb" also embraces the open chords and resonant 
spaces of early U2, but it has more punch, more abandon, some genuine 
grandeur and some glimmers of humor.
While the Edge's tremolo-picked sustained notes and arpeggios are 
familiar, the music is by no means a retreat to the chiming marches of 
early U2; instead, it encompasses grunge pugnacity, glam-rock stomps and 
the sudden benevolent fanfares of "Abbey Road"-era Beatles. The music 
scales dynamic peaks and dives into abysses and whirlpools, only to 
resolve into the next chorus. Every song is memorable.
As usual, the songs don't bother with petty topics: Bono sings about 
mortality, the meaning of life, social justice, fame, science and the 
heroic intimacy of love. For much of the album, particularly the 
slow-building ballads "Sometimes You Can't Make It on Your Own" and "One 
Step Closer," the lyrics reflect on Bono's admiring and contentious 
relationship with his father, who died in 2001.
Many of the songs ponder faith. The album's finale, "Yahweh," is nothing 
less than a prayer. When Bono was singing nonsense words to come up with 
a melody for the song, he found himself singing "Yahweh," a Hebrew name 
of God.
"There's cathedrals and the alleyway in our music," Bono said. "I think 
the alleyway is usually on the way to the cathedral, where you can hear 
your own footsteps and you're slightly nervous and looking over your 
shoulder and wondering if there's somebody following you. And then you 
get there and you realize there was somebody following you: It's God."
Bono's mother was a Protestant and his father a Catholic, and when he 
was a schoolboy he was severely beaten up when walking through a 
Catholic neighborhood in the uniform of his Protestant school. Speaking 
just days after the American presidential election, which might have 
hinged on the votes of evangelical Christians, Bono said: "I don't talk 
about my faith very much, because the people you might want to talk 
with, you don't want to hang out with.
"To have faith in a time of religious fervor is a worry. And, you know, 
I do have faith, and I'm worried about even the subject because of the 
sort of fanaticism that is the next-door neighbor of faith. The trick in 
the next few years will be not to decry the religious instinct, but to 
accept that this is a hugely important part of people's lives. And at 
the same time to be very wary of people who believe that theirs is the 
only way. Unilateralism before God is dangerous."
"Religion is ceremony and symbolism," he added. "Writers live off 
symbolism, and performers live off ceremony. We're made for religion! 
And yet you see this country, Ireland, ripped over religion, and you see 
the Middle East. Right now, unless tolerance comes with fervor, you'll 
see it in the United States."
That night, Bono was off to his other job, as freelance do-gooder. 
"Saving the world is now a daily chore," he joked. He was going to 
Madrid to appear at a fashion show for Edun, a company he and his wife 
own; the clothes are made in Africa from textiles manufactured in 
developing countries, a practical symbol of Bono's conviction that poor 
countries need trade as much as aid. He was wearing a pair of Edun jeans 
along with his ubiquitous sunglasses, a black sports jacket and a dark 
blue shirt, unbuttoned to reveal a wooden cross around his neck.
While the album was being made, Bono was juggling his political missions 
- among them debt relief for poor countries and getting AIDS drugs to 
Africa - with his duties in U2, which has always written its songs 
cooperatively. That left the Edge more time to work up structures and 
arrangements to await Bono's melodies and lyrics. "It turns out I'm much 
better in small doses," Bono said. "I don't need to be around for the 
mining," he added. "They put on these helmets with lights on them and 
they go into very dark places, and they're crawling around looking for a 
break in the plumbing or fixing wires. I have to go to a dark place 
also, but it isn't, ah, technical. It's a place of honesty. Call it 
soul, call it spirit, but it's the place where you're really living."
The other band members say they don't mind Bono's comings and goings. "I 
wouldn't trade my place with him for a billion dollars, not in a million 
years," Mr. Mullen said. "I make music, that's why I joined a band."
"When Bono's away there is a different chemistry," Mr. Clayton said. 
There's much more contact and interaction between the three of us than 
perhaps when Bono's there, because he has certain needs and demands. It 
can be like a benevolent dictatorship. But he works so hard on the 
band's behalf, and just because he's not in the room it doesn't mean 
he's having a better time."
While Bono was meeting with world leaders, the Edge was stockpiling 
aggressive guitar parts. "The album started off with a throwdown from 
Edge," Bono said. " 'O.K., you want rock 'n' roll? This is rock 'n' 
roll.' He had a whole bunch of guitar riffs up his sleeve, and believe 
me, that is not always the way. Him turning up with rifferama is just, 
'Hello! Stop press!' "
U2 started working with the producer Chris Thomas, who had made albums 
with the Sex Pistols and Roxy Music, but the results didn't satisfy the 
band. "We wanted that directness, but in the end it felt too 
one-dimensional," Bono said. Early this year, U2 turned to Steve 
Lillywhite, who produced the band's first albums. "He understands how we 
improvise," Bono said, "and we went back to the playpen." As the album 
deadline neared, U2 also brought in some of its other past producers - 
Flood, Daniel Lanois, Nellee Hooper - and hooked up with a young 
keyboard programmer, Jacknife Lee.
Although it took a long time to work out structures for the songs, many 
of the performances were recorded quickly. "The paint is fresh, even 
though it took a while," Bono said. "It's just that there's a lot of 
mixing the ink." The vocal for "Sometimes You Can't Make It on Your 
Own," a song Bono had struggled with for years, was recorded in a single 
take during a visit to the studio from Jimmy Iovine, the chairman of 
Interscope Records.
A conversation with Bono inevitably takes broad leaps from personal 
memories to economic theories to music, the state of U2 and the state of 
the world. More as citations than as name-dropping, Bono mentioned his 
discussions with, among others, Ethiopia's prime minister; Wim Wenders's 
cinematographer; Beyoncé Knowles; Johnny Cash; and Steve Jobs, the chief 
executive of Apple Computer. Apple is manufacturing a black-and-red U2 
iPod with the album stored on it, and later this month its iTunes Music 
Store is releasing "The Complete U2," a digital album of 400 songs, 
including 25 previously unreleased. To inaugurate the band's partnership 
with Apple, U2 and its song "Vertigo" appear in an iPod commercial for 
which, Bono said, the band was not paid.
"My idea of selling out is when you do naff things for money," he said, 
going on to define "naff" as very embarrassing. "That's subjective, but 
I think it's quite clear: don't embarrass your fans, they've given you a 
good life. Our audience are thrilled about the Apple thing. They can't 
believe their band has its own iPod.
"I have a very strong sense of survival," he added, "and I know that 
'Vertigo' is not the biggest pop song in the world. I know that riff has 
to be hammered home to become a pop song. With the commercial, we had a 
rock video coming on during the baseball playoffs in a way a record 
company could not afford.'"
U2's other response to the age of downloading is to offer a collectors' 
item for fans who want something more than a CD: a special edition of 
the album with a bonus DVD and a hardcover book including paintings by 
Mr. Mullen, photographs by Mr. Clayton, odd Internet finds from the Edge 
and handwritten lyrics and manifestos by Bono. One explains how to 
dismantle an atomic bomb: "Don't build a bomb!"
Before heading to the airport, Bono eased the band into "Original of the 
Species," a love song that also observes, "Some things you shouldn't get 
too good at/Like smiling, crying and celebrity." With a chuckle, he 
said: "I might try a little guitar - don't get upset. There's a very 
good reason why I'm the singer." He didn't disgrace himself, though, and 
after he took his leave, a visitor noted the neat lettering on the 
pickguard of his vintage Gretsch guitar: "The Goal Is Soul," it read.
-- 
But where was the Village, who was Number 6, or indeed Number 2?
The series kept on throwing up questions,
but steadfastly refused to give viewers any answers.

 believe their band has its own iPod.
No  infatti :)
Rhett