U2 -- The Unforgettable Fire
10/10
U2's The Unforgettable Fire is my favorite album of all time. I had it as part of my collection for a while before I realized this. I was always told that The Unforgettable Fire was a "transition album," hazy and unfocused, and that its ninth track was one of U2's worst songs, so I always listened to it with a sort of distraction. Two experiences changed that, both taking place in 2005.
1. I had a
major surgery that summer (part of what was happening when The Nicsperiment was
on hiatus), and picked up a viral infection in the hospital. I ended up
bedridden at my parents house for weeks (of course, I also lived there at the
time, as I had graduated college the previous December with no job or career
plan), fighting a fever, and mostly immobile. At one point, while trying to be a
good person of Irish descent, I put on The Unforgettable Fire while
reading James Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist As a Young Man. Though I'm
not a huge fan of that book, like most people, I was highly moved by the main
character's beachside epiphany. I just happened to reach that passage at the
exact moment that track five of The Unforgettable Fire, "Promenade," begins. The epiphany in Joyce's book
comes immediately after a frankly repulsive extended passage revolving around
a hellfire preacher's sermon, which causes its listeners great guilt and shame.
I read that sermon passage in the bathtub, during a high fever, and kept finding myself
gagging. Finishing that section of the book was a grudge match. However, this
grueling passage is also what makes the next section of the book so cathartic.
Likewise, "Promenade" follows The Unforgettable Fire's title track, which, while
a gorgeous, dreamlike song, focuses on the personal and emotional aftermath for
survivors of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki atomic bombings, and is full of pain. When "Promenade" comes
in, with its beautiful, chiming, healing guitar and building emotion in the rhythm and
Bono's stunning vocal, it's a beautiful catharsis, as well, creating
impressionistic imagery of a slow dance on a peaceful beach at night. It is, in
my opinion, the most beautiful moment on any U2 album. The synergy of that track
hitting just as I was reading that beachside epiphany passage by Joyce was staggering, causing such
an incredibly strong emotional response in me that (along with a cascade of
strange, mysterious tears) my fever broke and the pain left my body for a
moment. I'll never forget that moment for as long as I live, and if I ever have
another anywhere near as artistically and emotionally powerful as that
one, I'll be a lucky man.
2. Later in the year, I eventually found employment, under grim circumstances. The southeastern portion of my home state of Louisiana had just been devastated by Hurricane Katrina. A couple of weeks before the storm, I had applied for a job at the Office of Family Support, and they called me about a week after Katrina hit, asking if I would be willing to work 84 hour weeks to administer emergency food stamps. I received a 30-day appointment, which was extended an additional 10 days, after which I was offered a permanent position. I went on to work at the library instead. My initial shift at family support was 7 p.m. to 7 a.m. We stopped doing interviews at midnight, so I spent the last years hours of my shifts filing myriad paperwork. After a couple weeks, we all went to 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. shifts. As you can imagine, this was an emotionally draining job. One of the questions we had to ask candidates involved how many people were in their household. This was of course sensitive, as some had just recently lost a family member to the storm. One morning on my way to work, I listened to The Unforgettable Fire. After my experience with the album over that summer, it had quite grown in my estimation, and I was listening to it far more frequently. I reached the office near downtown Baton Rouge just as "Bad"'s first probing notes came through my car speakers. A few hours later, I interviewed a man who seemed completely spaced out and unfocused. When I reached the "how many people are in your household?" question, his answer was, "I don't know." Unfortunately, I had to press for clarification, where he then had to tell me that he and his two kids were in Baton Rouge, but he and his wife were separated in New Orleans on the day of the storm, and he was fairly certain she had perished. His eyes were glassy and dead. I marked "four" next to "how many people are in your household," and gave him my regards. I then told my manager I needed to run to the bathroom, went into the restroom I'd been sharing with M16-carrying National Guard members over the last few weeks (they'd lean their rifles against the wall while they pissed), found it thankfully empty, locked the door, and leaned against a wall. The first notes from "Bad" suddenly popped into my head, and then I cried heavy, chest-heaving, uncontrollable sobs for about ten minutes. It was a release from the buildup of every encounter I'd had like that, along with everything I'd gone through that year. "Bad" is a painful, beautiful, building, and cathartic song, and a little over a year later, I played it as the last song at my wedding. My good friend Jordan (who I now co-host a podcast with) filmed the moment, and it is beautiful, despite the fact that 95% of the dating couples dancing have since broken up, as have most of the married ones.
What I am trying to say is, The Unforgettable Fire is U2's most emotional and artistically accomplished album. It is highly and courageously impressionistic, like a Renoir painting of the metaphysical human heart. I've never heard anything else like it, and U2 have never recording anything else like it, even if their full-length released immediately after this one is objectively better. Producers, Daniel Lanois and Brian Eno, bring out a beauty from U2 they haven't matched since. Every band member is at their artistic peak here, Larry Mullen Jr. and Adam Clayton's rhythm section the solid, concrete canvas, the Edge's shimmery, multi-textured guitar and Bono's poetic, mystical lyrics and vocals the strokes of paint that seem just a bit different with every slight shift in angle. And as for that often derided penultimate track...
2. Later in the year, I eventually found employment, under grim circumstances. The southeastern portion of my home state of Louisiana had just been devastated by Hurricane Katrina. A couple of weeks before the storm, I had applied for a job at the Office of Family Support, and they called me about a week after Katrina hit, asking if I would be willing to work 84 hour weeks to administer emergency food stamps. I received a 30-day appointment, which was extended an additional 10 days, after which I was offered a permanent position. I went on to work at the library instead. My initial shift at family support was 7 p.m. to 7 a.m. We stopped doing interviews at midnight, so I spent the last years hours of my shifts filing myriad paperwork. After a couple weeks, we all went to 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. shifts. As you can imagine, this was an emotionally draining job. One of the questions we had to ask candidates involved how many people were in their household. This was of course sensitive, as some had just recently lost a family member to the storm. One morning on my way to work, I listened to The Unforgettable Fire. After my experience with the album over that summer, it had quite grown in my estimation, and I was listening to it far more frequently. I reached the office near downtown Baton Rouge just as "Bad"'s first probing notes came through my car speakers. A few hours later, I interviewed a man who seemed completely spaced out and unfocused. When I reached the "how many people are in your household?" question, his answer was, "I don't know." Unfortunately, I had to press for clarification, where he then had to tell me that he and his two kids were in Baton Rouge, but he and his wife were separated in New Orleans on the day of the storm, and he was fairly certain she had perished. His eyes were glassy and dead. I marked "four" next to "how many people are in your household," and gave him my regards. I then told my manager I needed to run to the bathroom, went into the restroom I'd been sharing with M16-carrying National Guard members over the last few weeks (they'd lean their rifles against the wall while they pissed), found it thankfully empty, locked the door, and leaned against a wall. The first notes from "Bad" suddenly popped into my head, and then I cried heavy, chest-heaving, uncontrollable sobs for about ten minutes. It was a release from the buildup of every encounter I'd had like that, along with everything I'd gone through that year. "Bad" is a painful, beautiful, building, and cathartic song, and a little over a year later, I played it as the last song at my wedding. My good friend Jordan (who I now co-host a podcast with) filmed the moment, and it is beautiful, despite the fact that 95% of the dating couples dancing have since broken up, as have most of the married ones.
What I am trying to say is, The Unforgettable Fire is U2's most emotional and artistically accomplished album. It is highly and courageously impressionistic, like a Renoir painting of the metaphysical human heart. I've never heard anything else like it, and U2 have never recording anything else like it, even if their full-length released immediately after this one is objectively better. Producers, Daniel Lanois and Brian Eno, bring out a beauty from U2 they haven't matched since. Every band member is at their artistic peak here, Larry Mullen Jr. and Adam Clayton's rhythm section the solid, concrete canvas, the Edge's shimmery, multi-textured guitar and Bono's poetic, mystical lyrics and vocals the strokes of paint that seem just a bit different with every slight shift in angle. And as for that often derided penultimate track...
Yes, "Elvis Presley and America" isn't much on its own. But given its spot on
The Unforgettable Fire, between the nervous energy of "Indian Summer
Sky," and the gorgeous, dreamlike acapella (along with a drone) closer, "MLK,"
"Elvis Presley and America" acts as a beautiful, cleansing rain, a preparation
for rest. I love this album so much.
The stunning "MLK" is also one half of the
greatest album ender to album opener combo ever, as the closing vocal and drone
goes directly into the organ intro to U2's next full length,
The Joshua Tree, and its electric, victorious opener, "Where the Streets
Have No Name." Really, the impressionism of The Unforgettable Fire is the
perfect complement to the realism of The Joshua Tree. It's like going from a lucid dream to waking up. These albums are my favorite
one-two punch from any band, and a major reason why I consider U2 my
personal favorite. When people say "I don't like U2," I do not believe they are
thinking about the U2 who created these two albums.
I'll close this "review" with the lyrics for The Unforgettable Fire's gorgeous, evocative opener, "A Sort of Homecoming," and let the band do the talking:
And you know it's time to go
Through the sleet and driving snow
Across the fields of mourning to a light that's in the distance.
And you hunger for the time
Time to heal, 'desire' time
And your earth moves beneath your own dream landscape.
On borderland we run.
I'll be there, I'll be there tonight
A high-road, a high-road out from here.
The city walls are all come down
The dust a smoke screen all around
See faces ploughed like fields that once
Gave no resistance.
And we live by the side of the road
On the side of a hill, as the valleys explode
Dislocated, suffocated
The land grows weary of its own.
O comeaway, o comeaway, o-come, o comeaway, I say I
O comeaway, o comeaway, o-com, o comeaway, I say I
Oh, oh on borderland we run
And still we run, we run and don't look back
I'll be there, I'll be there
Tonight, tonight
I'll be there tonight, I believe
I'll be there so high
I'll be there tonight, tonight.
Oh comeaway, I say, o comeaway, I say.
The wind will crack in winter time
This bomb-blast lightning waltz.
No spoken words, just a scream
Tonight we'll build a bridge across the sea and land
See the sky, the burning rain
She will die and live again tonight.
And your heart beats so slow
Through the rain and fallen snow
Across the fields of mourning to a light that's in the distance.
Oh, don't sorrow, no don't weep
For tonight at last I am coming home.
I am coming home.
Holy shit
1984 Island
1. A Sort of Homecoming 5:28
2. Pride (In the Name of Love) 3:48
3. Wire 4:19
4. The Unforgettable Fire 4:55
5. Promenade 2:35
6. 4th of July 2:12
7. Bad 6:09
8. Indian Summer Sky 4:17
9. Elvis Presley and America 6:23
10. MLK 2:31
I'll close this "review" with the lyrics for The Unforgettable Fire's gorgeous, evocative opener, "A Sort of Homecoming," and let the band do the talking:
And you know it's time to go
Through the sleet and driving snow
Across the fields of mourning to a light that's in the distance.
And you hunger for the time
Time to heal, 'desire' time
And your earth moves beneath your own dream landscape.
On borderland we run.
I'll be there, I'll be there tonight
A high-road, a high-road out from here.
The city walls are all come down
The dust a smoke screen all around
See faces ploughed like fields that once
Gave no resistance.
And we live by the side of the road
On the side of a hill, as the valleys explode
Dislocated, suffocated
The land grows weary of its own.
O comeaway, o comeaway, o-come, o comeaway, I say I
O comeaway, o comeaway, o-com, o comeaway, I say I
Oh, oh on borderland we run
And still we run, we run and don't look back
I'll be there, I'll be there
Tonight, tonight
I'll be there tonight, I believe
I'll be there so high
I'll be there tonight, tonight.
Oh comeaway, I say, o comeaway, I say.
The wind will crack in winter time
This bomb-blast lightning waltz.
No spoken words, just a scream
Tonight we'll build a bridge across the sea and land
See the sky, the burning rain
She will die and live again tonight.
And your heart beats so slow
Through the rain and fallen snow
Across the fields of mourning to a light that's in the distance.
Oh, don't sorrow, no don't weep
For tonight at last I am coming home.
I am coming home.
Holy shit
1984 Island
1. A Sort of Homecoming 5:28
2. Pride (In the Name of Love) 3:48
3. Wire 4:19
4. The Unforgettable Fire 4:55
5. Promenade 2:35
6. 4th of July 2:12
7. Bad 6:09
8. Indian Summer Sky 4:17
9. Elvis Presley and America 6:23
10. MLK 2:31
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