Of War & Peace & The Light Within

Distanced from the bustle of British pop by a few hundred miles of the Irish Sea and by their own purity of purpose, U2 has just released its third album, War. Produced, like the last two, by Steve Lillywhite and recorded in the isolation of Windmill Lane Studios in their native Dublin, the LP is a vital watershed in the band’s growth.

Bono Vox, the lyrical lead voice of U2, describes War as a “slap in the face,” and regards it as the most important move the band’s ever made. The songs on two previous albums, Boy and October, showed four young musicians coming to terms with themselves during the journey from adolescence to fragile manhood. The new LP is different in that U2 is now coming to terms with the outside world, and that means coming to terms with the horror of the Falklands, Beirut, Central America, the nuclear threat and the strife of their own battle-torn backyard in Ulster — coming to terms with war.

Not all the songs are directly about war, but those that are rank among the most powerful the band has yet recorded. There is a plaintive scream for compassion in Ulster (“Sunday Bloody Sunday”), an acknowledgement of the struggle for Solidarity (“New Year’s Day”) and the black humor of a song about the bomb (“Seconds”). Even the love songs on War are fierce and direct, largely shunning the more delicate lyricism of the earlier albums.

Just as the words have become more incisive, so the music is now more robust. U2 is a rock rarity — a band that has actually become tougher with maturity rather than blanding out as most of their contemporaries have done.

War is the group at its most rhythmic. The sound is rooted in drummer Larry Mullen’s shuddering tub-thumping and bassist Adam Clayton’s bewildering percussive patterns. Guitarist the Edge is less dominant than before, the traditional solos of the axe here superceded by intuitive excursions in tonality and harmonics that put an eerie veneer over the rock solid foundations.

Another significant trait on War is the manner in which U2 has extended its musical base to include some outside assistance in the form of electric violinist Steve Wickham, Coconuts Cheryl Poirier, Adriana Kaegi and Taryn Hagey, and Kid Creole trumpet player Kenny Fradley. A few tracks have been remixed for release as British singles by New York’s studio whiz Francois Kervorkian, the man behind the console on the D Train singles and the successful American remix of Yazoo’s “Situation.”

Further proof of U2’s emergence from its cocoon will come later this year when the quartet begins work on a ballet score for a Dublin theatre. For now, though, the spotlight is on U2 as one of rock’s top live bands and on the crusaders’ passion of its new LP.

U2 is one of the few bands to retain the idealism of British punk in 1976, looking on rock music as a great quest rather than a career. Bono Vox unashamedly romanticizes his involvement in the performing process, seeing U2 as “a garage band from garageland” taking a wild tilt at the monolithic windmills of the rock world. His punk-inspired ideals might appear quaint in the colder musical climate of 1983, but remain essential to any understanding of U2.

“People see us as four guys who are uprooted from their city of Dublin and are thrown across the world,” Vox says. “And we are winning. We are beating the businessmen at their own game by conquering the USA on our own terms. We might not be this week’s thing, but that will never bother us.”

Vox sees no difference between U2 the band and the four characters that make it up. The music, he says, is simply an extension of their individual personalities: its basic virtue rests in its honesty.

“When I listen to music, I want to know about the mind behind it. Who is Martin Fry? Who is Nick Heyward? Who are they, and can I find out about it through their songs? Or do they ‘put on’ a song the way they might put on a mask? To me there is no real division between ‘rock’ and ‘pop’ in the long run, but there is a division between a performer who strips himself bare and one who wears a mask.

“What I want from music are people who lay themselves on the line. People like John Lennon or Iggy Pop did that. Whatever you feel about their music, you do learn about them from it. If anything, that’s where the division lies. When you listen to U2 you are listening to the four people involved. There’s no mask. We are U2.”

The following interview took place at various locations one Sunday afternoon in Dublin.

Vox — the aggressive pacifist — practically jumps out of his skin when he talks, his spirit and fire a sharp contrast with the softer approach of the Edge, the suave assurance of Adam Clayton and the watchful demeanor of Larry Mullen. Vox will talk of “credibility” and “commitment” and make it ring true, his confidence never crossing over into conceit-his belief in the U2 way is total, but it doesn’t deny the value of some of the other options. Being among the last of the rock idealists sometimes seems the proper thing to do.

Why War?

Vox: War seemed to be the motif for 1982. Everywhere you looked, from the Falklands to the Middle East and South Africa, there was war. By calling the album War we’re giving the people a slap in the face and at the same time getting away from the cozy image a lot of people have of U2.

The Edge: It’s a heavy title. It’s blunt. It’s not something that’s safe, so it could backfire. It’s the sort of subject matter that people can really take a dislike to. But we wanted to take a more dangerous course, fly a bit closer to the ground, so I think the title is appropriate.

The last two albums, Boy and October, have both had a key to the songs in the title and this one is no different. Not all the songs are about war, but it’s a good general heading. It’s a big step forward for us, because we’re laying ourselves on the line and we’ll probably be open to a lot of flak for it.

The images conjured up by the songs are a far cry from what people might expect from U2. On Boy and October the imagery possessed an almost spiritual purity, whereas the songs on War seem far more gruesome and horrific.

Vox: A lot of the songs on our last album were quite abstract, but War is intentionally more direct, more specific. But you can still take the title on a lot of different levels. We’re not only interested in the physical aspects of war. The emotional effects are just as important, “the trenches dug within our hearts.”

People have become numb to violence. Watching the television, it’s hard to tell the difference between fact and fiction. One minute you see someone being shot in a drama, and the next you see someone falling from a window after being shot on the news. One is fiction and one is real life, but we’re becoming so used to the fiction that we become numb to the real thing. That’s one of the ways in which we’re dealing with the subject of war on the LP.

War could be the story of a broken home, a family at war. Instead of putting tanks and guns on the cover, we’ve put a child’s face. War can also be a mental thing, an emotional thing between lovers. It doesn’t have to be a physical thing. There is such a thing as mental war. I’m fascinated by all the different aspects and connotations.

The most obvious context at the moment is the nuclear threat. You deal with that on “Seconds,” but you’d also touched on it before on last year’s “A Celebration” single: “I believe in the third world war/I believe in the atomic bomb.” Was that a point of sorts to some of the songs on the new LP?

Vox: It was a pointer in that it showed our idealism becoming dissipated in the way that the idealism of the ’60s just got blown away in the breeze. A lot of people got angry about those lines in “A Celebration,” but all I was saying was that the realities of the bomb must be faced: “I believe in the powers that be but they won’t overpower me.”

The Edge: People are starting to ask more questions about the bomb. In the past, people have been more apathetic. They have become so caught up with their own lives that they haven’t looked outside. Now, they’re asking what the hell is going on?

Adam Clayton: I think people are ready to take a more militant stance to protect their future, as the rise of the CND (Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament) movement shows.

Vox: Before we can overcome these things we have to face them. There is a line in “Seconds” about a fanatic assembling a nuclear device in an apartment in Times Square, New York, but it could be anywhere. We are now entering the age of nuclear terrorism where a group of fanatics could have the capability of bringing a bomb into a city and holding millions of people for ransom.

The first track on War is called “Sunday Bloody Sunday.” The obvious assumption is that it is about the troubles in Ulster.

Clayton: It isn’t so much about the troubles in the physical sense of the fighting, but about the human carnage of families being wrecked.

The Edge: We all had a hand in the writing of that song, because it’s probably the heaviest thing we’ve ever done lyrically. It’s hard for us as a band to justify a title like “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” and we are very aware of that. We realize the potential for division in a song like that, so all we can say is that we’re trying to confront the subject rather than sweep it under the carpet.

We thought a lot about the song before we played it in Belfast; and Bono told the audience that if they didn’t like it then we’d never play it again. Out of the 3,000 people in the hall about three walked out. I think that says a lot about the audience’s trust in us.

Clayton: It’s something we’ve been questioned about a lot, being based in Dublin, and we decided that it was morally wrong that weren’t coming to terms with it ourselves. Before “Sunday Bloody Sunday” it was something that we ourselves had been sweeping under the carpet.

It’s the same dilemma the Undertones faced before they wrote songs like “Crisis of the Mind” and “It’s Gonna Happen” — coming to terms with something on your own doorstep. But what about “New Year’s Day,” which is about Poland? What qualified U2 to make pronouncements about something like that?

Clayton: It’s not a comment on the situation, but more of an acknowledgment of Solidarity. At the time we wrote the song, we didn’t know that martial law was going to be lifted on New Year’s Day. We were just saying that no matter how much people try to change the situation, things are always more or less the same at the start of every new year.

That song can often appear very patronizing. A lot of people have grown tired of rock bands wearing their social consciences on their sleeve. Isn’t it all a bit self-righteous?

The Edge: The position of any band talking about the topics of their day is always a delicate one. The only justification I can give is that we are expressing our convictions. I can see how it can appear patronizing, but it depends on one’s motivations. There are a lot of things we could get pulled up on. If people don’t like it, then that is understandable, but we will be standing by what we’ve done.

A lot of songs on War are interrelated. Does this mean we are witnessing the return of the dreaded concept album?

The Edge: No, definitely not. That would imply that every song on the album is part of a jigsaw, which simply isn’t the case. The title is a key to some of the songs, but not all of them are about war: “Surrender” is inspired by New York; “Two Hearts” is a love song; and “Drowning Man” is a very restful, peaceful song.

Considering the seriousness of some of its subject matter, War could have been a very grim and pessimistic LP, but you also hold out a certain amount of hope.

Vox: You have to have hope. Rock music can be a very powerful medium and if you use that to offer something positive then it can be very uplifting. On the other hand, if you use your songs to convey bitterness and hate, a blackness seems to descend over everything.

I don’t like music unless it has a healing effect. I don’t like it when people leave concerts still feeling edgy. I want people to leave our concerts feeling positive, a bit more free.

Things might look very gloomy, but there is always hope. I think there is a need to develop a new political language to get over what is happening. It’s time to re-educate people. Unemployment will not decrease. The new computer technology will eventually wipe out clerical classes, and office workers will be a thing of the past. Millions of people are already on the dole with a lot of leisure time. They are going to have to be re-educated in order to make better use of that time.

A lot of people can’t handle these times and they are turning to things like heavy drug use.

In the area of Dublin where we live there are 15-year-old kids using heroin. They can buy little ten-packs of it for 10 pounds. A lot of people just can’t handle this age.

Are you afraid?

Vox: I’m frightened, yes, but I’m not cynical or pessimistic about the future and a lot of that must come down to my beliefs. It is my belief in God that enables me to get up in the morning and face the world. I believe that there is a reason and a logic to everything. If I didn’t believe that and thought that everything was simply down to chance, then I’d be really afraid. I wouldn’t cross the road for fear of being run over.

You say you are sustained by your Christian beliefs. What about human nature? Do you have any faith in that?

Vox: I don’t know. It’s fine to think that everyone is nice, man, and people are really swell, but there is still this capacity in man for terrible violence. I see that aggression in myself sometimes, and I see it in other people. The secret is to recognize it and come to terms with it.

The century we’re living in is the most barbaric ever. In the past men committed atrocities without being fully aware of what they were doing. Now man has been educated, but the atrocities are still going on. But I still have my beliefs, not so much in people, but in what lies behind people. That comes across in the music.

War is not a negative LP. I mean, I’m in love and there is a lot of love on the album. A song like “New Year’s Day” might be about war and struggle, but it is also about love. It’s about having the faith to break through and survive against all the odds. Love is a very powerful thing. There’s nothing more radical than two people loving each other.

When I talk about love, I’m thinking of an unselfish love. Emotions can be bought and sold just like anything else, but I think real love is about giving and not expecting anything in return.

So the album could just as easily been called Love — love as a weapon against repression. You seem to be saying that one can’t appreciate the true value of love until it is set against the hatred and lunacy of the outside world.

Vox: I think that love stands out when set against struggle. That’s probably the power of the record in a nutshell. The album is about the struggle for love, not about war in the negative sense. I would be failing in this interview if I made War sound like a gloomy album, because it’s not. I hope it’s an uplifting record.

Some love songs devalue the meaning of the word. Disco bands turn it into a clich� by tearing it down until it means nothing. The power of love is always more striking when set against realism than when set against escapism.

U2 exist within a traditional rock format in that your sound is basically guitar, bass and drums. How would you counter the currently fashionable claim that that format is redundant after 25 years or so? There was a letter in a fanzine here recently alleging that U2 were no more a “chugging” progressive rock band with their hearts in the early ’70s.

Edge: I think that anyone who can react in such a superficial, instinctive way would miss the point of what we’re doing, even if they liked it. They’re the sort of people who base their taste on fashion and whim. I don’t think the people who go to our concerts are particularly interested in what is trendy. They appreciate us on a far more gut level. They’re not bothered that we’re just playing guitar, bass and drums.

Vox: We’ve chosen to work within that format, even though a lot of people threw it out the window a couple of years ago. It suits what we want to do. We want a joust. The guitar, bass and drum set-up is good for giving people a good slap in the face.

Your instruments are only lumps of wood and metal, anyway. They’re hardly the best criteria by which to judge the worth of a band.

Vox: We believe that passion is more important than technique. 1975 was all about style and technique, Herbie Hancock and jazz-rock, and 1982 was pretty much the same. I believe we need that slap in the face once more. The sort of thing we got in 1976. The elitist thing has got to be smashed down again.

It’s like Orwell’s Animal Farm: the pigs have all become the farmers! The bands that were our contemporaries, the garage bands of 1976, are back on the big star trip. They’re playing the part of people that they pulled down. It’s either intellectual crap or patronizing gloss.

Prior to War, U2 grew up in almost total isolation, oblivious to outside trends and influences. Now you seem to be broadening your scope, enlisting the likes of the Coconuts, Ken Fradley and Francois Kervorkian to embellish your sound. There’s even a 12-inch dance mix of “Two Hearts” due for single release.

The Edge: Up to now, we’ve defined our own terms, and if we’re branching out into new areas, it’s only because we actually need to. We’re not pandering to any outside demands. We are always aware of what else is happening musically, but we’re not prepared to let it dictate our style.

Do you ever worry about appearing too earnest? Sometimes, particularly onstage, you almost fall over your own feet in the rush to project your passion.

Vox: Sometimes we fail and I’ll be the first to admit that. Sometimes we go over the top and miss the point altogether. Sometimes we do fall flat on our faces in our endeavor to crack that barrier between the stage and the audience, but I know that our music means a hell of a lot to our audience from the letters we receive, not just the fan letters but letters that actually get into the music and take it seriously. I think part of the fun of being a U2 fan is seeing us fall flat on our faces and then get back up again.

Have you ever got to the stage of not wanting to go on?

Vox: Yeah, about once a week! When we were making War we went practically to the brink of breaking the band. When we go into the studio we draw totally on our deepest resources and stretch them to the limit. If a band is going to be honest they’ve got to bring out everything, even the things that might frighten them.

The Edge: I want U2 to be a band that takes risks. I hate this idea of U2 as a nice, safe band. Maybe it’s just because we don’t play the rock ‘n’ roll game. We don’t do drugs or get arrested in America or smash up hotels or get our willies out on stage. All of that is just conforming to rock tradition. The rock rebel thing is very phony.

Clayton: I don’t think it’s very likely we’ll give in now. The longer we go on, the more interesting things become. I can see us going through an awful lot of changes that I would never have imagined when we first got going. At first it was just a simple case of playing for fun. Now it’s very different. Perhaps it’s maturity, perhaps it’s down to Bono getting married last year and the Edge getting married this year, but as we mature, the frantic teenage issues that we were concerned with early on are changing into something else, something more complex. We’re a lot more prepared to lay ourselves on the line these days.

So the quest goes on.

Vox: Yeah, and I feel that we’re winning at the moment. In some ways, U2 are only really being born right now. Right now, it feels good.

I think there is a certain insight in this group, a certain ability to see human emotions and expose them honestly. There are a lot of cliched songs around in the chart. The fiction factory loves churning out superficial songs about the same old subjects. That’s just something we refuse to do. This might sound egotistical, but I think we’ll always retain our honesty.

Clayton: Basically, I think we’re all nutters, but somehow it works. It always comes out in the wash.

© 1983 NME. All Rights Reserved.