I see that one of my colleagues has beat me to posting the setlist, so I’ll skip that part. Now let me brief you on my day so far:
10:30 a.m. – After a stop into every newsagent in town to load up on commemorative newspapers, I stroll across the street from my hotel to join the hundreds of thousands of fans converging on Hyde Park.
10:45 a.m. – I’m handed (over the course of three or four blocks) six separate pieces of literature (causes varied) and see my first Vertigo tour shirt on a gentleman heading into the gig.
11:00 a.m. – I’ve counted a total of nine Vertigo tour shirts (two that say Croke Park), so I decide to stop one of the fans and have a chat. The gentleman I approach is named Sean and he tells me he’s from Holland. He’s standing outside the fence of the queue with his companion, looking toward the park. I ask him if he thinks history will be made today and he responds with a quick “No. I really do not.” I say “How do you think we can change things, then?” He responds “Only with a lot more action from the governments.” Which seems to be the general consensus among the conversations I’ve heard. Most folks genuinely think Live 8 is a wonderful idea, and they’re happy to support it, but they don’t have a lot of faith in its results. Sean tells me then that he and his friend don’t have tickets for the show, but they came anyway and his favorite act here today is definitely U2. No argument there.
11:30 a.m. – I spend 10 pounds on an official Live 8 program featuring our world leaders in Sgt. Pepper uniforms. This rocks my world.
Noon – I’m only at Victoria Gate and I need to be at Kensington Park to get a good view of the screens, seeing as that I’ll be pretty far back. This may take a while.
12:20 p.m. – Quotes overheard from the crowd as I make my way through MASSES of humans:
“This is madness.”
“Am I going to die here?” (a woman who was about 70 years of age)
“Oh &*it – I’ve lost my girlfriend!”
And so forth.
12:30 p.m. – I focus on taking photos of every clever Live 8 poster that adorns the outside gates. They contain such phrases as “Whistle a Tune” “Go on, Give us a Smile” and my personal favorite (near the end of the queue) “Are we there yet?” In reality I probably got more shots of the heads of passers by than of the posters, but we’ll see how it turns out.
1:05 p.m. – I pass four gentleman of varied size and race wearing full-on Sgt. Pepper uniforms. That’s dedication.
1:15 p.m. – There’s a man dressed as the queen walking around in a tiara complete with a silver gown, handbag and shoes (which at one point he took off to carry). And the statement he’s making is?
1:35 p.m. – Ah…Royal Albert Hall – we’re getting close!
1:38 p.m. – View of the screen, clouds hanging, helicopters buzzing. I’m about to throw up.
1:45 p.m. – Gentleman asks me “Do you know who’s opening the show?” I fight back the urge to ask him what rock he’s climbed out under from, and smile sweetly answering “U2 and Paul McCartney.” I am a professional, after all.
1:58 p.m. – There are so many U2 shirts on the premises, I’ve lost count. I’m home.
2:02 p.m. – MAYHEM! Sir Paul’s onstage, It was 20 years ago today, Bono joins in, this is rock ‘n’ roll utopia.
2:03 p.m. – Sgt. Pepper-dressed horn section plays the background music live. This could be really cheesy, but it’s not. It’s cool and I can’t believe I’m witnessing this!
2:04 p.m. – The heart is a bloom. The crowd is alive. It’s a “Beautiful Day.”
2:08 p.m. – Bono says a few words, then we hear Larry’s drums starting. Uno, dos, tres…hold me back it’s “Vertigo.” I’m the only one pogoing in my area, but I don’t care. A twentysomething girl is passing by and stops to catch a glimpse of the screen. At the precise moment she glances over, the close-up shot is Bono in all his glory. She screams a spontaneous scream, shakes and jumps up and down.
I love U2 fans.
2:12 p.m. – The obligatory Bono speech. But today, I don’t mind so much. Today I raise my hand in unity and listen to the crowd fall silent as he speaks.
2:14 p.m. – That’s “One.” And it’s delicate and calm today – delivered with perfect grace. After the first verse, folks start looking toward the sky. Not at the looming choppers this time, but at a sun break that only Bono and God himself could have planned. It really was something – there have been constant clouds and rain since I first landed on British soil – and I kid you not, the sun came out for “One.”
The beautiful “Unchained Melody” ending moves the crowd to tears and embraces. This is what music should always be. This is how social change should come about.
2:18 p.m. – U2’s off the stage and Coldplay prepares to take their turn. I’m glad that I came. Special note: the clouds return after U2 leaves (no joke).
Now…it’s 4:36 p.m. and I’ve just made my way out of the crowd to join you here. I’m going back to hear Sting sing one of my all-time favorite Police songs later, and I’ll also stay for the Paul McCartney/George Michael duet, but if I’d only seen U2 and Macca, that would’ve been enough. They’re that good.
(c) 2005, Kokkoris/@U2.