IN REVIEW: U2 - "Songs of Innocence"
The main reason I abstained from an early review was that I didn't believe I could give the album a fair shake without separating myself from the hoopla that surrounded its release or the reactions to it, positive and negative. There didn't seem to be any gray area, only two sides; those who hated the implications of the free release (and the fact that it bullied its way onto half a billion iTunes accounts without asking anyone first), and those who swore U2 their unconditional love.
So, with a month removed and the actual physical album in stores, I feel like there's plenty of gray area, and most of it is on the album itself. For a record that gestated for as long as Songs of Innocence, not to mention a record as heavily hyped as a thematic look back as it was, there really isn't much here that stands out. Just as the four years plus between No Line On the Horizon and its predecessor elevated expectations only to ultimately disappoint, the five and a half years gap between it and this built up an anticipation that could only reward the band's most patient and forgiving fans.
Things start out okay enough, with brash and rocking lead single The Miracle (of Joey Ramone), a song that serves double duty as a tribute to one of punk's most influential bands, although that influence doesn't exactly find its way to the music here; their presence is felt in a more spiritual way than musical. It is a U2 song, after all, and the end result is a tune that can't help but supersize itself for stadiums, but it's the thought that counts here.
From there, it's down to business, with a handful of cold and calculated songs that are derivative at best and water treading at worst. Every Breaking Wave isn't offensive by any stretch, but it's the kind of middle-of-the-road mid-tempo anthem they've been doing in their sleep for the better part of the last couple of decades. It'll inevitably do chart damage, but won't be remembered as one of their greats when it's all said and done. It's followed by the synth-driven, heavens-reaching schmaltz of California (There Is No End To Love), a song that wouldn't be so off-putting if it didn't sound like it was written for Coldplay.
The orchestration is temporarily stripped back as Song for Someone begins, and the song in the context of what came before it is an exercise in addition by subtraction. These are pros we're talking about, and they recognize that the song is strong enough to survive without all those bells and whistles. It's an early album highlight, one that leads into one of the album's most striking moments; Iris (Hold Me Close), lyrically a touching ode to Bono's mother, is musically a little distracting in that it finds the band almost explicitly recalling Where The Streets Have No Name. The Edge's jangly guitar work wraps around you like an old blanket, but there's something off about it, like it's been in the linen closet gathering must since, oh I don't know, say 1991.
This is followed by Volcano, a pleasing enough rocker that doesn't aim too high or low; it's the kind of song they could pull out anytime, and they chose to do so here, which doesn't make them right or wrong but doesn't make the song truly remarkable in any way. Raised By Wolves starts off with some really interesting sonics while working up to its big arena rock moment (and there's that unmistakable Edge sound again). The thing is, once the song gets its chance to smash, it's held back; the place where a typically massive U2 statement would be is replaced by a tom-driven, half-tempo chorus.
Next is Cedarwood Road, as explicit a reminder that Danger Mouse is co-producing and is also heavily involved in the Black Keys as you're going to get from anyone this year (including the Black Keys). It's surely a stylistic detour for U2, which is something they've always been known for indulging in, but where they used to lead the charge into the unknown they've chosen to ape another successful band. It continues on Sleep Like A Baby Tonight, a song that doesn't skimp on Dan Auerbach's dirty guitar tones when it's not soaked in synths; it sounds like something that would have been unwelcome on Turn Blue, and it does this album no favours either. To make matters worse, Danger Mouse is actually given free reign on the album's last two tracks, a pair of tunes that pretends U2's entire discography doesn't exist and Bono's favourite band is Broken Bells. This Is Where You Can Reach Me Now and The Troubles are very sleek and modern songs, to be sure, but U2 hasn't sounded so unlike themselves since Pop. And if you think the last half of the album is derivative of the Black Keys' recent work, check out the two bonus tracks on the deluxe version. Wowzers.
The most remarkable thing about Songs of Innocence from a purely musical standpoint ends up being just how unmemorable the songs are. There are precious few moments that offer genuine thrills, and most songs that show promise of doing so don't get the chance to. At its best it offers a handful of decent U2 numbers and at its worst it pays more tribute to the bands that make money in 2014 than the bands that influenced U2 in 1979. Which is kind of shameful because U2 makes more money than any of them have or ever will.
Speaking of which, thanks to the rumoured $100 million Apple shelled out to pull off the album's surprise release/publicity stunt, U2 has already been paid in full. And, when you boil it down to its essence, Songs of Innocence illustrates how U2 and Apple are a perfect match. They both used to be brilliant, both have legions of fawning minions who blindly kowtow to their every whim (Rolling Stone gave both No Line On the Horizon and Songs of Innocence five stars, which raises some interesting questions about yet another formerly revered institution), and both have taken to appropriating good ideas someone else had a couple years ago and arrogantly promoting them as revolution.
October 14, 2014 • Island
Highlights The Miracle (of Joey Ramone) • Song for Someone • Iris (Hold Me Close)
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