U2 Vertigo Tour

Vertigo Tour 1st leg: North America

2005-05-07: United Center - Chicago, Illinois, USA

The Rev. Bono

BY JIM DEROGATIS Pop Music Critic

Wearing a mock fascist uniform and goose-stepping around the oval catwalk jutting from the stage at the United Center on Saturday, the first of U2's four sold-out shows here, Bono repeated an odd little chant during an encore of "Zoo Station": "We put on a show / We do the business / But this is not / Show business."

Yes, it most certainly was, and it was every bit as phony, bombastic and manipulative as a Britney Spears concert, the Republican National Convention or a televangelist's miracle-working dog and pony show.

As a fan who's seen the group a dozen times and who ranks 1992's Zoo TV tour on the short list of the best concerts I've ever experienced, U2 has never seemed as pointlessly pretentious and preachy.

The group scrolled the text of the first few articles of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, adopted by the United Nations in 1948, over its giant video screens and encouraged concertgoers not to flick their lighters but to hold up their cell phones, then text-message their contact info to the band's hunger-relief charity program. This assumed, of course, that people had money left to donate after spending as much as $168 plus service fees for U2 concert tickets.

Bono did his famous crucifixion moves, as well as dropping to his knees and striking his familiar "hands bound above my head" pose. This time, he gave the latter a new twist, sporting a blindfold to evoke images of the prisoners at Abu Ghraib prison.

The 45-year-old front man's hubristic sins went on and on -- there was a facile routine about how Christianity, Judaism and Islam are all "true" (with Buddhism and other religions conspicuously absent from the list), speeches about how "we" can end poverty in Africa, and boasts about how world leaders take his calls. Still, while he was the most obnoxious presence, it would be wrong to single him out as the only offender.

Guitarist The Edge, bassist Adam Clayton and drummer Larry Mullen Jr. gave their silent approval while providing the music that served as background and afterthought for all of this speechifying, and they did so in a rote, autopilot fashion that created a disturbing contrast between the impassioned windbaggery and the passionless rock 'n' roll.

The songs from last year's "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb" gained nothing and only seemed more contrived in concert. "Love and Peace or Else," which opened the show; "Yahweh," the penultimate track before the encore; "Sometimes You Can't Make It on Your Own," the song that pays homage to Bono's departed dad, and "Vertigo," the hit brought to you by Apple's iPod -- all were rote, leaden, formulaic imitations of sounds that U2 has done much, much better in the past.

This especially was evident as the new material was juxtaposed with undeniable classics such as "An Cat Dubh," "New Year's Day" and "One," which retained their inspired brilliance no matter how much pomposity surrounded them, providing the evening's few highlights. As for the nadir, it came midway through the two-hour set with an especially soggy four-song montage of "Sunday Bloody Sunday," "Bullet the Blue Sky," "The Hands That Built America" and "When Johnny Comes Marching Home."

If you missed the point, it was this: AMERICA'S WAR IN IRAQ IS BAD. But ever the politician averse to alienating any demographic, Bono, sporting a stars-and-stripes leather jacket as one of several costume changes, followed that none-too-subtle declaration by reminding us to "support the troops."

With the exception of its startlingly innovative Zoo TV tour and its "Achtung Baby"-era shift toward postmodern irony and fearless reinvention, this band always has had a problem with grandiose flag-waving -- literally. During my first U2 concert in 1981, I rolled my eyes when Bono hoisted a giant white banner. And as documented by the concert films "Live at Red Rocks" (1983) and "Rattle and Hum" (1989), speeches and chest-thumping theatrics always have been part of the show.

The difference is that the music was once fresh and powerful enough to make even the most over-the-top gestures seem justified. "We're greedy, and we want to push boundaries," Mullen told me in an interview two weeks ago, as if one justified the other. At this phase in U2's career, minus the boundary-pushing, it's hard to see past the greed.

The majority of people at the United Center, it should be noted, seemed thrilled with Saturday's performance. I'm not attempting to change their minds or invalidate their experience, but to pose the question of whether U2 lived up to its own potential. In the end, this is just one disappointed fan's review, and as stated in Article 19 of the U.N.'s Universal Declaration of Human Rights: "Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression."

U2 performs at the United Center again tonight, Tuesday and Thursday. On Saturday, its set began at 9 p.m., following a mediocre opening performance by the Kings of Leon, New Wave Southern rockers who simply aren't ready for the arenas.

Bono, ever the politician averse to alienating any demographic, criticized America's war in Iraq, then urged fans to "support the troops."