Every time U2 releases a new album, or gets their own signature Ipod, or appears on TV or on the cover of a magazine, I feel like I’m living in a Philip K. Dick novel and my reality diverged from the standard timeline sometime around 1985 and I’m caught in a wacky alternate reality. It’s like Back to the Future 2 where Biff controls everything. It’s a wacky, unfortunate alternate reality in which U2 didn’t politely fade away alongside their contemporaries like, I don’t know, the Church or Echo and the Bunnymen and instead became one of TEH MOST IMPORTANT BANDS OF IT’S GENERATION.
It’s not just the U2 is terrible; sure, everything about the band is embarrassing, awful, and garish, and always has been - but that they’re actually so bad that their success is confusing and sort of unreal. I’d feel less confused if, I don’t know, Terence Trent D’arby or Patty Smyth were selling platinum records and headlining arenas in 2009. It would somehow seem more natural if Shalamar or Mike & The Mechanics were on the cover of Spin this month when I run into 7-Eleven.
Fuck U2. Seriously, motherfuck this band! I don’t even know where to begin. The mawkish, overwrought songwriting. The insipid lyrics! The adult-contemporary production masquerading as “rock.” The sense of self-importance and the infuriating sense of importance conveyed onto the band by its fans. And what fans! People that legitimately like U2 to the point where they’re one of their favorite bands are willfully admitting that they hate music, and prefer the most unchallenging, whitebread, vanilla sonic lifestyle wallpaper that gives the illusion of providing art and entertainment but simply evaporates the second the last note has rung. U2 is the Splenda of the music world.
And Bono. I mean, just say it out loud - “Bono.” What sort of limp cheesedick persona name is that?! If your name was Bono and you were a legitimate artist, you’d change your fucking name. If my name was Paulie Gaylord and I decided to front a rock band or start paining, I wouldn’t start going by “Paulie” or “Gaylord” - I’d come up with a cool motherfucking name, is what I’d do! “Bono.” It looks like “bone” and “boner,” and evokes Sonny Bono, probably the most limp-wristed tapioca pudding motherfucker in the history of arts and entertainment. Way to go! And let’s not even talk about that mook haircut and those fucking wraparound shades he’s worn for the past decade. He looks like a child rapist sneaking into a presbyterian church daycare. I don’t even have the energy to talk about his “activism,” which seems to consist of him standing near AIDS and looking smug as the flashbulbs go off like fireworks.
Next up - “The Edge.” HOLY SHIT ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. This fetal alcohol syndrom disco duck-looking motherfucker is probably the least “edgy” human being to ever walk this forsaken planet. Oh, my mistake, by “edge” he meant “holding an e-bow to his guitar for seven fucking albums while looking vaguely embarrassed.” Or maybe it means turning on the latest digital delay+chorus effect and strumming one note for the entire song. Every time this turkey shows up in a list of “guitar greats,” I want to blow my own head off. I just love that he seriously still goes by “The Edge” like this is fucking Machine Teen or something, and not a 50-something man in a massive moneymaking family entertainment conglomerate.
I’m sure that there are two other guys in the band, which is inexcusable when there are perfectly good careers in retail and service out there, and that there are any number of points to be made, but this is already TLDR as hell. In conclusion: U2 - you CANNOT be serious.
