Larry was the one to post the announcement. The flyer on the Mount Temple bulletin board in the fall of 1976 read: “Drummer looking for musicians to form band. Contact Larry Mullen, third year.” A few days later, on Saturday, September 25, seven boys crowded into Larry’s tiny house on an afternoon that, whether by fate or divine design, would shape the destinies of the four who survived the audition. It became their first and—as Bono likes to say from the perspective of a fifty-year-old veteran—their only job.
From the beginning, U2 used music to express a hopeful view of the world, taking the rage and anger of a punk scene rapidly bursting the confines of London and turning it into a new kind of creative energy. Maintaining the zeal and passion of other influential punk artists, U2 sought an alternate message. Adolescents themselves, their music contrasted the innocence of youth with the dark reality of global war and interpersonal conflict. With unswerving commitment to this ideal, three of the four band members embarked on a spiritual pilgrimage that included membership in a Christian commune. This experience was both positive and negative, at first offering a core of beliefs and values but later creating a dilemma that challenged their artistic integrity. In the end, the group emerged, choosing a unique posture of engagement with culture rather than rejection of it. Free of constraints, U2 began a love affair with technology and media—specifically with a brand-new cable channel called MTV—and set out to conquer the world. In the early 1980s, members of U2 honed their craft, deepened their faith, and refined their message for a global audience.
Larry’s bulletin board announcement led to the first meeting of what he presumed might be the Larry Mullen Band, but any notion he had of fronting the group quickly faded. Bono, unable to play guitar very well and untried as a singer, took the lead and immediately became the guiding personality and energy of the bunch. Edge showed up with his brother, Dik, and an electric guitar they had built. Adam brought a bass guitar and plenty of rock ’n’ roll swagger, though he had little skill on his instrument. And Larry, the most formally trained, sat behind a drum kit that barely fit into his kitchen. The other hopefuls were Ivan McCormick, a thirteen-year-old with a good guitar (and brother of Neil McCormick, who today is an author and music critic), and Peter Martin, who supposed he could be the band’s manager since he didn’t have any musical ability. It wasn’t long before the group narrowed itself down to a quartet—Ivan was dismissed because of his age and later formed a band with another Mount Temple student, and Dik, a graduate of high school, wasn’t allowed to play at Mount Temple gigs because he was too old. With Larry laying down a solid rhythmic foundation for the group, Adam picking up the bass in earnest, Edge beginning wild experiments with guitar sounds, and Bono taking the helm as front man, the boys set off into virgin territory, never to look back.
Before the foursome could even imagine the musical destiny that awaited them, the group took the name Feedback. Having had no experience with rock ’n’ roll, they simply thought this technical term sounded cool. Now a proper band with a name, the group began rehearsing, setting its sights on a Mount Temple talent show scheduled for the end of the fall term in 1976. The boys fumbled through rehearsals, sometimes meeting in Edge’s backyard garden shed or Adam’s house or a school classroom, trying to gain some sense of their instruments and roles within a band. At just an hour a week, the practices didn’t produce much, but it was enough to craft a ten-minute set for the school talent show. Armed with only three songs, an unlikely collection including the Bay City Rollers’ “Bye Bye Baby,” a Beach Boys medley, and Peter Frampton’s “Show Me the Way,” the teens commandeered the stage as amps buzzed and classmates shouted for more.
“Bye Bye Baby” was performed more as a joke than a serious number; it was a simple piece they knew the girls would love. But something happened when they played “Show Me the Way.” The live performance became more than the sum of its rehearsals. As the quartet performed, they discovered a new energy, an intangible sense that they’d never experienced. Bono recalls, “Because of everything I was going through, I turned this pop song into a prayer. . . . I was starting to use music as a way of really expressing what was going on in my head” (U2 and McCormick, U2 by U2, 31). “I want you to show me the way” wasn’t just a lyric about a girl, it was a spiritual experience—the result of four new friends collaborating and rising in some sort of transcendent way to a place none of them had been before. The talent show was a hit, and the band members, through all their nervousness and anxiety, found something more meaningful than they had expected. Edge remembers,
What was surprising to me was getting up there and playing “Show Me the Way,” which was really a fairly simple tune, and suddenly something happened. . . . There was something about it that really worked between us, that even as inept as we were, when we hit it, stuff went off in a very visceral and very primitive way. If the performance bug is contagious, we definitely caught it that day. (U2 and McCormick, U2 by U2, 32)
“After that,” says Larry, “I think we were a band” (U2 and McCormick, U2 by U2, 32).
Blissfully unaware of their nearly complete lack of ability, the boys continued to practice, adding Saturday rehearsals into the mix. And though he was still a beginner on his own instrument, Adam had the best rock ’n’ roll image, with lots of panache and style as he talked about “gigs” while sipping his coffee, eyes masked by cool oversized shades. Effectively, he was the band’s first manager, securing Feedback’s second show—the band’s first paid performance—at St. Fintan’s, another school in North Dublin, in the spring of 1977. Here they added two female backup singers and a flute, but from the band’s perspective, it all went very poorly. The audience booed and laughed as the group covered “Nights in White Satin.” Embarrassed and humiliated, Feedback limped its way home. The boys continued languishing as they tried to reproduce other seemingly impossible popular songs, but in doing so they made another discovery: they could write their own music, which was much simpler to play than the covers they had been attempting. From then on, their thirst for original songs was insatiable. Larry reflects, “Once we had written the first song, we spent the rest of our time trying to write better songs and drop the covers from our set” (U2 and McCormick, U2 by U2, 35). Feedback, rising beyond its failure—a theme that would manifest itself repeatedly in the future—were exploring a new frontier.
Soon after, the group, which still often included Dik Evans on guitar (though the background singers were cut), decided to rename itself the Hype, thinking it to be a much cooler name. Naive, and largely operating on their own, they spent hours developing original material while continuing to cover popular hits, gradually becoming more aware of the London punk scene and incorporating songs by the Sex Pistols, the Ramones, the Clash, and others. These bands left a significant impression on the guys, especially Bono, because the aggressive music of the punks was more complex than pop. Each song was a social statement, commenting on some aspect of culture, politics, economics, justice, and life. Two concerts in particular loomed large in the memories of the band. After watching the Clash at Trinity College in Dublin, the boys found a new vision for what could happen in a live performance. Bono remembers the shift that took place in the way he and the others thought about being a band, saying, “Lots of bands around us were much better-looking, better players, better songwriters—they had everything. But we had the ‘it’—whatever ‘it’ might be—and we built around that. That idea comes from the Clash” (Bono and John, “Bono, Elton John & Chuck D”). Another show, this one by the Ramones, also had a lasting impact on the young band. Bono reflects on that concert in the Songs of Innocence album notes: “The world stopped long enough for us to get on it. Even though we only saw half the show, it became one of the great nights of our life.” In “The Miracle (of Joey Ramone),” Bono memorializes the evening, singing, “I woke up at the moment when the miracle occurred / Heard a song that makes some sense out of the world.” On the Innocence + Experience tour in 2015, U2 continued paying tribute to both the Clash and the Ramones for the impact each band left on U2’s formative years.
If there is a formal birth date for U2, it would have to be the spring of 1978, a season in which several things happened to solidify the band’s persona and commitment. First, in a seemingly inconsequential event, Adam got kicked out of Mount Temple. But it was this unfortunate incident that gave him time to focus more on managing the band. As he began to foster connections with other musicians and artists in his spare time, he alone promoted the band using any means possible, including a fake advertisement in NME and, later, simple business cards that read, “Phone Adam Clayton to book U2.” Through a relentless pursuit of music insiders and media representatives, he built a relationship with Steve Averill, a graphic designer and founder of the punk band Radiators from Space. While an important relationship at the time, there is no way that Adam could have foreseen its potential for the future. The fledgling bassist asked Averill for some advice about naming his newly formed band, signaling that he really liked group names like XTC and INXS. Averill suggested the name U2 because it had meaning on many different levels: it was a notable spy plane, a popular cassette deck, a German sub, and a ubiquitous expression (“you too”). But most importantly, Averill thought the ambiguous name would be visually bold with significant graphic potential, easily transferable to a worldwide audience. The band agreed, and an icon was born. Averill continued as a significant presence with U2, supervising the thoughtful and artistic graphic design of every U2 studio album to come. Without a doubt, Averill is one of the chief architects of U2’s global and iconic image and an important influence in helping the band think conceptually about its craft, often linking U2’s music and mission to the larger culture.
Several other things happened at this point that helped propel the young U2 forward. Amid heavy local competition, the band won the top spot at a contest in Limerick, which quickly brought them into the national spotlight. Also at this time, at another concert in Howth, the foursome formally said good-bye to their on-again-off-again guitar player Dik Evans. That night, the band, with Dik present, took the stage as the Hype. But when Dik played his last song and walked off in an intentionally choreographed stunt, Bono emerged after a break, reintroducing the four-piece as U2. With a solid image and a newfound national following, the boys realized an urgent need for a capable manager. It didn’t take long—Adam’s persistent contact work again paid off—and the band was introduced to Paul McGuinness, another soon-to-be lifelong and influential relationship.
While the members of U2 were in their late teens, McGuinness, just a decade older, needed only one listen of a cassette demo to know that he should see them in concert. In May of 1978, he attended his first U2 show, following it up with an invitation to meet the band in a nearby bar after the concert. Already having experience directing plays, editing a magazine, working in film production, and managing a folk-rock group, McGuinness was the multifaceted visionary that U2 needed at this early stage in its career. Even before the band had recorded its first album, the new manager was conspiring to move the message and music of the energetic, charismatic teens beyond Ireland. McGuinness astutely realized that the typical path to musical success often ended in London, a music scene that was critical and patronizing of Irish bands. His vision was much more ambitious, paying little attention to the UK market and heading for an America filled with Irish expatriates. Neil McCormick appropriately notes, “McGuinness didn’t just take U2 out of Ireland; he brought the band to the world” (McCormick, “Boy to Man,” 21). Often referred to as the “fifth member of U2,” McGuinness’s influence is not lost on Bono, who recalls, “More than anyone in my life, he is a person who believed in me and gave me the confidence to realize my potential as an artist. He has an enormous and sharp intellect, and mine was very unschooled and haphazard” (Assayas, Bono, 53).
As the upcoming band’s new manager, McGuinness worked diligently to promote the group and look out for the members’ best interests. His intuition for shrewd business negotiations can be seen from the beginning, as he chose to operate outside the normal conventions and standard practices of the late 1970s music industry. Early on, U2 and McGuinness decided to keep all of the legal rights and ownerships of their own music rather than sign these over to a record company as was typical. McGuinness also routinely fought for U2’s place in festival or concert lineups, challenging an organizer’s notion that the band should play at the least desirable times because they were unknown. In a particularly controversial movement, the Dublin music magazine Heat published an article accusing McGuinness of fraud and manipulation in managing U2. McGuinness fought back with a lawsuit, eventually ruining the publication and causing it to close. This was especially awkward because one of the magazine’s founders was Steve Averill, close friend and consultant for the band. For good or for bad, McGuinness had proven himself a no-nonsense, sharp-witted, and cunning business partner, capable of defending his young clients against the mainstream practices of a music industry known for taking advantage of artists.
The late 1970s were formative years for Adam, Larry, Bono, and Edge, filled with “firsts” that would build a foundation for superstardom. The first rehearsals, a succession of band names, early concerts and competitions (both successes and failures), fledgling attempts to manage themselves, and initial business negotiations all set the stage for patterns and practices that would come to define a forty-year franchise. In hindsight, much of what we know and see of U2 today can be traced back to their earliest years.
Early on, U2 determined that its music would be different than anything else available in the market of its day. Mainstream pop and Irish folk were easily accessible but were primarily forms of entertainment that provided very little passion and commentary on current issues. Two other options left the band members wanting as well. Hippie culture, imported from America and Britain, could be found throughout Ireland in the 1970s in small yet substantial ways. Several publications promoted anarchism; one in Belfast was called Outta Control (curiously, it was also in the late 1970s that the Clash promoted its Get Out of Control tour and, in response, U2 wrote the song “Out of Control”). But this revolution of free love and anarchy seemed empty to the band. While John Lennon’s “Imagine” was a noble picture of an ideal world, and a song (and album) Bono says was influential at the age of eleven, Lennon’s message stopped short of helping people achieve the ideal it was presenting. Bono says of Lennon’s accomplishments, “[I]magining wasn’t one of them. I’m more of a doing, more of an actions, more of a building [person], and dreaming to me is a thing of the ’60s. Doing is a thing that we have to be a part of.” (“Bono,” Charlie Rose). The flowery, idealistic, passive form of love that hippies were promoting wasn’t an answer to the problems both at home in Ireland and around the world and thus was not inspiring for the band.
Not content with traditional Irish music or with the hippie movement’s nebulous idealism, U2 might have been tempted by a second option: the punk scene. But here, too, the movement came up short as a mission for the young band. On one hand, punk differed greatly from the free love that hippies offered and, in essence, emerged as a reaction to it. Punk musicians were aggressive, unafraid to take on social issues, and undeterred by the status quo, channeling rage and anger into their music. On the other hand, punk, though very different in style, ended up in the same place as hippies, with no outcome and no product to show for the art form. Where one group used love, the other used anger, but neither had the means to inspire change in the world. U2, always breaking with conventional means, began a career hopeful that its message could make a difference, rejecting both the blissful ignorance of hippies and the pointless anger of punks.
At a one-of-a-kind event in January of 1981, Bono, speaking to a small group of musicians, acknowledged that punks and hippies had a valid assessment of Western culture, but he expressed dissatisfaction with these movements because they didn’t address the treatment of society’s problems and shortcomings. Then twenty years old, he spoke of his own band’s mission, saying, “In U2, we’re an aggressive band, we’re an emotional band, we’re a live band. I think we have a love and an emotion without flowers in our hair, and I think we have an aggression without the safety pins in our noses” (U2’s Vision). And although “punk opened the door,” according to Adam, Larry consistently insisted that they should not become a punk band (U2 and McCormick, U2 by U2, 35). As a musical style, punk was limited. As a philosophy, it was a dead end. From the start, U2 recognized that neither the escapism of a drug-based hippie culture nor the anger of a hate-filled punk scene was enough to sustain them.
One way individual members of U2 began to work out the dilemmas of purpose and mission came through increased engagement in Christianity, at least for three of them—Bono was the first to explore his faith, Edge followed at Bono’s urging, and Larry committed after his mother’s death; Adam and manager Paul McGuiness had no interest. For the three Christians, the journey to faith was gradual, starting at Mount Temple with religion class and lunchtime Bible studies and progressing to weekly meetings with Guggi (Derek Rowan) and others, some of whom were members of Lypton Village. They also attended a Protestant church where Guggi’s father was a preacher—a real “Bible-basher” according to Bono.
Such religious fervor was not uncommon. During the mid- to late 1970s, a charismatic wave of Christianity was sweeping through America and Europe, and many teens and young adults were finding profound and life-changing experiences within the renewed church. The movement focused on worship through music and passionate corporate gatherings, preferring spontaneity, spirit-led prayer, and energetic Bible preaching rather than the formality of the Church of Ireland or Roman Catholicism. Perceived as fresh and new, the charismatic gatherings appealed to those in late adolescence who were looking for purpose and meaning beyond the emptiness of hippies and punks. In reality, joining the charismatic movement was an action of defiance against the status quo—both the violent street gangs and the established church. The greatest act of rebellion for Bono, Edge, and Larry was their commitment to a vibrant “born-again” religious experience.
By 1978, the three Christian members of U2 had discovered another way to enrich and express their faith. While roaming around Dublin with their Village friends, they met a deeply spiritual man named Dennis Sheedy. In turn, Sheedy introduced them to Pastor Chris Rowe, the leader of Shalom, a Christian commune patterned after the early church as it is recorded in the biblical book of Acts. This separatist community practiced a modern form of asceticism, promoting denial of the self, social justice, equality, and other values that were attractive to the guys. The three members of U2 found a home with these people and dedicated themselves to the gathering’s strict code. Bono recalls, “I lived with no possessions. We were part of a community. Everyone helped each other out sharing what little money we had. . . . It was like a church that was really committed to changing the world” (Assayas, Bono, 145–46). By 1980, Bono, Edge, and Larry increased their commitment to this radical community, devoting themselves to its teaching, sharing money they made, and attending meetings and retreats routinely.
But tensions rose as U2 became more successful. The boys respected Shalom because of its commitment to simplicity, faith, and a countercultural way of living, but the group’s leaders increasingly pressured the musicians to give up their career in service to God. Bono, Edge, and Larry were told that they could not be committed Christians and have a career in rock music unless they sang Christian songs and performed for church audiences. For the Shalom leaders, “good Christians” did not engage in secular practices; the two ideas were incompatible. This tension created a very real and threatening controversy for U2. As the three Christians were being compelled to commit to the commune, even to the point of giving up the band, Adam and Paul McGuinness countered with equal pressure. The very core of U2’s existence was at stake. After an intense period of soul searching, one by one, the band members withdrew from Shalom—Larry first, then Bono, and finally, after almost leaving the band, Edge abandoned the spiritual gathering. Shalom had nearly became the band’s undoing. By 1981, U2 had reconciled both relationships and mission, and the three Christians graciously and amicably parted ways with the commune, though still agreeing that Shalom and its leaders had been a strong and formative spiritual presence in their lives.
The importance of Shalom in the formation of U2 cannot be overlooked. As the band members bade farewell to their teen years, the controversy forced them to confront intense and serious questions of life and faith. The few years they spent with Shalom reinforced a set of values—compassion, global awareness, self-control, vulnerability, hospitality, Christian commitment—that has influenced every album and tour. But the experience also sharpened their criticism of organized religion, coercion, separatism, and militant dogma. As they exited the Shalom era, what remained was a message of love, acceptance, transparency, and surrender.
Along with their reluctance toward hippies, punks, and organized religion came an increased interest in activism, especially in the area of social justice. Issues both at home and abroad captured their attention and influenced not only their music but on a more essential level, the very way the band perceived the world. In Ireland, the Troubles was a defining period in which Protestantism and Catholicism collided in the most violent of ways, at precisely the time U2 was taking shape. The religious sectarianism so common to the island became, at least in part, the impetus for Bono, Edge, and Larry’s movement toward the Shalom community. They longed for a place that emphasized the unity of Christian believers rather than the bitter intolerance they had experienced growing up. U2’s formation was an active response to the religious conflict in Ireland. Neither Protestant nor Catholic, the band intentionally sought to transcend those categories.
In the beginning, U2 was more of an idea than a band. While still discovering the rudimentary skills needed to play music, the group was inspired by those who had social or political messages. On this point, the Clash was more than a musical role model. Joe Strummer, the band’s front man, was a revolutionary, directly leading to Bono’s own sense of activist destiny. Particularly influential was Strummer’s ability to cross and combine musical genres, incorporating rock, punk, rap, hip-hop, and reggae in a way that respected and elevated other forms and artists, pushing boundaries and breaking through conventional barriers of culture and race. This was the kind of rebel that filled Bono’s imagination. He recalls, “[Joe] was speaking about things he saw in his life—the things right in front of his face that none wanted to talk about—and taking his message around the world” (Bono and John, “Bono, Elton John & Chuck D”). But it was the Clash’s 1980 album Sandinista! that really provoked Bono, spurring his interest in Nicaragua and Central America and prompting a visit in 1986. The experience was later venerated in one of U2’s defining songs, “Bullet the Blue Sky.”
As U2 recorded its second album, October, in 1981, the band members were also conscious of and impacted by events happening across the globe. Throughout the late 1970s, Cambodia was the site of genocide—the systematic extermination of an ethnic group. At the hands of the Khmer Rouge, as many as three million Vietnamese and other minority populations were brutally murdered, while others were conscripted into forced labor. Known as the Killing Fields, the cities and towns of Cambodia, then referenced as Kampuchea by their Communist oppressors, suffered unimaginable atrocities, while the United States and other nations did nothing to help.
Even as U2 recorded its next single, “Fire,” a heated discussion broke out among the band about the violence happening on a distant continent. Paul McGuinness, frustrated by the amount of time and money being spent on the recording, suggested that it wasn’t morally right to spend thousands of pounds on a single track while people were starving and dying in Kampuchea. Bono, equally concerned with the devastating conflict, had a different perspective, signaling the impact of Shalom (which they had just left), saying, “The same Satan that is evident in Kampuchea, in the starving people there, is the same Satan who is working in the Marquee clubs, through drugs right here in this country” (U2’s Vision). Using apocalyptic language that both reflected immediate concerns and a theological interpretation of the future, U2 recorded the lyrics “The sun is burning black,” “The moon is running red,” and “The stars are falling down” (all direct reference to Revelation 6:12–13). The lyrics of “Fire” conveyed both remorse and a hope that such despair caused by the situation in Kampuchea would not be unending.
Also during this period, the band became keenly aware—and skeptical—of the American Christian subculture. In 1980, the United States experienced a new partisan phenomenon that shook up its political system and shifted the balance of presidential power. Opposing the election of Democratic Jimmy Carter to the White House, Jerry Falwell, the pastor of a successful Baptist church and the founder of Liberty University, both in Lynchburg, Virginia, actively endorsed and financially supported Ronald Reagan for president. With the establishment of his political organization, the Moral Majority, Falwell used his influence with the Christian Right to help secure Reagan’s two-term election. Falwell was also famous for his church’s TV production, The Old-Time Gospel Hour, a venue he routinely used in the 1960s to feature segregationist politicians and to openly speak against civil rights leader Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Falwell was particularly suspicious of King’s nonviolent strategies.
As an outsider, Bono became fascinated with and disturbed by the constant fund-raising and campaigning that he saw in Falwell’s organizations, which he believed was representative of the American church as a whole. At the time, he commented to a group of young musicians in England, “When I see Christians getting involved in politics to the extent of making their hour, which is supposed to be dedicated to Christ . . . which gets involved in the politics in America (which we know is completely crazy—I mean they really do get on with it—all the flags and everything), I see a real danger” (U2’s Vision). Bono could not accept the idea that the American church preached a message of love yet was also intolerant and partisan. Years later, again in “Bullet the Blue Sky,” he would lament the situation in a musical bridge, ranting, “I can’t tell the difference between ABC News, Hill Street Blues, and a preacher on the Old-Time Gospel Hour stealing money from the sick and the old. Well the God I believe in isn’t short of cash, mister” (U2: Rattle and Hum). During the Zoo TV tour, Bono took on the character of Mirror Ball Man, a questionable American televangelist with a heavy southern accent, an obvious jab at Falwell’s practices.
Even starting out, the social conscience of the band was often evident, as the young U2 played diverse charity events, such as the Contraception Action Campaign (1978), Rock against Sexism (1978), and the National Milk Run (1980). Throughout their formation, the four teens, along with their manager, advocated for an ethical and moral high ground not characteristic of the music business of their day. Indeed, just a few years later, in 1984, Paul McGuinness founded Principle Management, choosing the name because he wanted to build a company that operated with a strong set of principles, one that would run counter to accepted practices. As the band matured, its members continually challenged, prodded, and questioned themselves, as well as the industry they set out to dominate.
If U2’s sense of activism was the first driving force behind the band’s unique approach to a sterile music industry, then the infectious energy of its stage presence was the second. Though fairly rough and untried, U2’s ability to convey an emotional message through its live performances was unlike any other of its day. The band played every opportunity offered, quickly attracting the attention of young fans and music critics alike. Having said goodbye to Dik Evans as the Hype in 1978, the reinvented quartet overcame their youthful inexperience by filling the stage with passion and conviction. It didn’t matter that they couldn’t play their instruments well—this band brought something much more than a musical performance to each show.
While attending Mount Temple, the boys primarily performed at schools, churches, and talent contests. But a shift came in the second half of 1978 as the band, free from the demands of a rigorous educational system, redoubled its efforts. One of the favorite local venues to gig was McGonagles. Throughout the late 1970s, the boys played the famous club, at first as the Hype and then as U2 (often written “U-2” in the early days), opening for Revolver and then moving on to become the headline act (often following the support band Frankie Corpse & the Undertakers, which included Ivan McCormick). Over the course of at least twenty shows at McGonagles, the band honed the ability to not merely perform but to redefine the stage through a youthful passion, artistic creativity, and heightened relationship with the audience. Ivan McCormick recalls in a Hot Press interview, “[W]e used to play gigs in McGonagles with them. They had mime sections in their act, all sorts of theatrical stuff. I remember that polo neck with the nipples cut out that Bono used to wear. That was strange” (“Stories about Boys”).
But the McGonagles venue also provided a much deeper and richer cultural context for the young band than is immediately apparent. For the four young men, it was a place of historical significance. First known as the Crystal Ballroom, this dance hall was the place Bono’s parents went when they were courting; it was here that Bob Hewson and Iris Rankin danced and fell in love. And it is this older venue that U2 commemorates in the 2015 single “The Crystal Ballroom,” a rarely performed but often requested song from the Innocence + Experience tour. Bono has acknowledged the significance of the club, saying,
A whole generation of Dubliners would go to the Crystal Ballroom for dances, and many couples first met there. My mother and father used to dance together in the Crystal Ballroom, so that song . . . is me imagining I’m on the stage of McGonagles with this new band I’m in called U2—and we did play a lot of our important early gigs there. And I look out into the audience and I see my mother and father dancing romantically together to U2 on the stage. (Boyd, “Bono’s Dublin”)
On the deluxe version of Songs of Innocence, Bono solemnly sings in the song bearing the club’s name, “In the ballroom of the crystal lights / Everyone’s here with me tonight / Everyone but you.” Undoubtedly, the historical importance of the venue energized and deepened the band’s performances.
The McGonagles gigs also caught the attention, as well as the affection, of Bill Graham, one of the first writers for Hot Press. As early as 1978, he saw something unique in U2’s passion and appetite for the live performance and after one McGonagles performance wrote, “Standing apart from this year’s new bands in a suss and willingness to learn that will soon end any technical faults, U2 profit from the fact that they’ve an identity that needs little alteration” (Graham, “Revolver, U2”). Graham believed the band had enormous potential, even as they were being overlooked by locals and overshadowed by other bands. Commenting on two important concerts at McGonagles, he notes in a 1979 article that though U2 didn’t receive any favorable print reviews, “they were simply the most exhilarating performances by a local band I’ve witnessed in the last twelve months” (Graham, “Trinity Buttery & McGonagles Matinee”). Graham championed the new spirit he saw in U2 for many years to come and would often be credited with helping the band find the success they deserved. For U2, playing at McGonagles was a foundational experience in an important venue.
Throughout 1978 and 1979, U2 earned rave revues from local music critics, primarily for its live performances. Coincidentally, and certainly to the band’s advantage, Hot Press magazine was in its infancy at precisely the same time U2 began to capture the hearts and imaginations of audiences throughout Ireland. Based in Dublin, the publication mirrored Rolling Stone in America, examining music, pop culture, politics, and current news of the day. In addition to Graham’s numerous articles, founding editor Niall Stokes and music critic Declan Lynch also praised U2 for fresh and exhilarating concerts. Both Graham and Stokes would go on to author numerous articles and books on the band, chronicling the power of the group’s stage presence. During the late 1970s and early 1980s, U2 also received lavish revues from other print publications, including the British music newspapers and magazines Sounds, Record Mirror, Melody Maker, and NME, consistently praising the upstart band for a unique sound, original songs, and passionate performances that left audiences in awe. Likewise, with the release of U2’s first album, Boy, music critic Jim Henke from Rolling Stone became an ardent champion of the band, a relationship that has lasted for decades.
Particularly compelling was Bono’s ability to improvise on stage, often using grand theatrics but still always being aware of the temperament of a room, reacting to fans and hecklers alike with an engaging and captivating presence. Many of the venues U2 played were dark and dingy clubs, filled with punks and discontents. It wasn’t uncommon for fights or scuffles to break out, though not because U2’s music elicited a violent response. The aggressive nature of concertgoers was more a consequence of uncertain times, volatile emotions, and problematic venues. Still, U2 seemed to be at home in this kind of unruly environment, where Bono excelled at playing mediator, breaking up bar fights, calming disorderly crowds, and nurturing community in the midnight hours of restless dance floors. Charming and charismatic, he treated everyone as if they were his best friends, listening, interacting, and making each person feel like each individual was the only member in the audience. The young front man exuded authenticity and warmth through impassioned performances and caring interactions.
For Bono, an unruly audience—and there were many of them, especially as U2 opened for other punk bands that often had their own set of aggressive fans—was simply another challenge for the band to overcome. At one particularly hostile show, an impatient fan yelled to Bono, calling him a “poser.” With ever a quick wit, the lead singer gladly consented and then turned the insult into an accolade. “Course I’m a poser. You’re a poser, we’re all posers” (Graham, “Battling through a Hail of Spittle,” 41). In that instant, Bono removed any barriers with the audience and disarmed his critics; everyone in the room became his friend. This wasn’t a show. This was the real Paul Hewson, fighting back from the edge of despair after his mother’s death, desperately attempting to fill a gaping hole through music and friends while living out his life on the stage.
As U2 continued reinventing the art of the live performance, the band also set out to grow a fan base through media appearances. In the spring of 1978, the Hype had its first recording for TV, performing “The Fool” on RTÉ’s Our Times. Bono sang, “I break all the rules / They call me a fool,” signaling his unconventional nature. Soon after, the band appeared again, this time as U2, on RTÉ’s Youngline performing “Street Mission,” the song’s title subtly hinting at three of the members’ intentions to embed Christian faith in their earliest original tunes. At the time of these appearances, Adam was just eighteen years old, Bono and Edge were seventeen, and Larry was a mere sixteen. These broadcasts on Ireland’s national television were important moments for U2, revealing the band’s charismatic stage presence, especially for a young teenage audience that wasn’t old enough to attend U2’s concerts in bars and clubs.
RTÉ also began to feature U2 on its radio outlets. One of the band’s most opportune moments came with an appearance on Dave Fanning’s show in the fall of 1979, during which the host interviewed each member of the group on a separate night and played three tracks that had just been recorded at the famous Windmill Lane Studios. Fanning praised the boys’ youthfulness, zeal, and distinctiveness. As is the case with many of U2’s interviewers, Fanning became an avid supporter and lifelong friend of the band, so much so that for three decades U2 granted the music journalist exclusive interviews and debut airplay of new singles.
U2’s journey into fame also coincided with a brand-new, innovative medium unlike any before. On August 1, 1981, a cable television station, featuring a groundbreaking music-video format, debuted in America. It didn’t take long for U2 to recognize the potential of this pioneering technology. With the release of their second album, October, the band filmed its first music video, an artistic interpretation and performance of the hit “Gloria.” Shot just two months after MTV’s launch, the video featured the group performing on a barge in Dublin’s Grand Canal Basin while onlookers danced and cheered. “Gloria” was U2’s big break on the fledgling network and received heavy airplay. Thus began a love affair between U2 and MTV, a relationship that would propel each well into the twenty-first century.
For U2, the live performance was complemented and accentuated by media appearances. And whether it came through traditional sources such as print and radio or the innovative technologies of television and MTV, the band set out from the beginning to harness the power of every tool available on their quest not only to dominate the music industry but to stand as an alternative to it. Unflinching in the face of interviewers, a growing expanse of cameras and microphones became as important as their own instruments along the way.
As the band continued developing its stage and media presence, it also spent time in the studio. Through a series of recording sessions, sometimes quite contentious yet always energetic and creative, U2 released a demo and its first trio of records, proving its ability to craft engaging and original material and eventually finding an international audience.
In 1979, the group partnered with producer Chas de Whalley at Windmill Lane Studios, recording three songs in one all-night, tension-filled session. It was there that the band members experienced firsthand the pressure of working with time constraints, arranging music, recording individual tracks, appeasing engineers, and meeting deadlines. The collaborative process was not only tedious, it was stressful and quarrelsome. But it was also a further indication that from the beginning, the four young men held themselves to a high standard, unwilling to settle for something less than they knew they were capable of. After a disagreement with de Whalley about the postproduction mix of their new recordings, Paul McGuinness solicited the help of others, searching for the perfect sound. The final product was U2-3 (or Three), a three-track record distributed throughout Ireland by CBS Records. The order of the tracks came about in a unique way that demonstrated the band’s love and admiration for its fan base, further breaking the mold of the status quo industry. While being interviewed by Dave Fanning over the course of a week, U2 let the show’s listeners comment and vote on the arrangement of tracks on the new album. This lively and creative dialogue resulted in fans picking “Out of Control” for the A-side and “Boy/Girl” and “Stories for Boys” on the flip side. The album, primarily sold to local fans and used for radio promotions, was a hit, and a tour in support of the record ensued, taking U2 across the channel to England for their first exposure.
After U2-3, the band worked hard, playing gigs, promoting their demo album, and trying to secure a legitimate record deal. The group’s big break came while touring London in early 1980, when it gained the attention of Island Records. After one particularly successful show, the label, recognizing U2’s originality, creativity, and charisma, scrambled to bring the band on board. The best part about the deal they negotiated was that U2 received a four-album contract, guaranteeing the ability to tour as well as record. Just a month after signing, U2 cut its first single with Island Records, “11 O’Clock Tick Tock,” aided by Joy Division producer Martin Hannett. Quickly proving to be a successful venture, the deal fostered a partnership that was beneficial for both U2 and the record company over the next twenty years.
With contract in hand, the band moved back into Windmill Lane Studios to record a full debut album, this time with the wildly creative and often unconventional producer Steve Lillywhite. Far more than a one-shot all-nighter, U2 gained complete access to the studio and its amenities. Always looking for imaginative and nontraditional approaches while recording, the musicians used a variety of unusual percussive instruments, including a glockenspiel, bottles suspended from strings, broken glass, and even the spokes of a bicycle wheel. And though Edge was limited to one guitar, his classic Gibson Explorer (a model he still uses), he was also experimenting with fresh sounds and effects. Using his new Electro Harmonix Deluxe Memory Man echo unit, the guitarist invented tones and textures that would, in a very short time, become his signature sound. Ignoring the standard note bends, whammy bars, and traditional chord progressions of other rock guitarists, Edge applied his love of math to music, building his solos and background rhythm work around a series of echoed and delayed notes. In a calculated way, the young guitarist used his effects box to create syncopated rhythms, generating patterns and phrases that would not have been possible otherwise. The result, precise loops of notes providing a chiming-like quality layered with rich harmonics, eventually became a style sought after and emulated by bands across Europe and North America. Just as Bono was making a name for himself through passionate and charismatic stage performances, Edge was getting attention for his innovative technology and new guitar stylings.
The final product of their creative time in the studio was Boy (1980), an album exploring the innocence of childhood contrasted with the complexity of adolescence. Being teens themselves, the topic seemed an appropriate investigation for a band that was just coming of age, often through heartbreaking loss, and a fitting topic for a debut record. In keeping with the theme, the album cover featured a black-and-white photograph of a young, shirtless boy. The model, Peter Rowen, brother to Guggi, Trevor, and Andy, depicted the simplicity and purity of childhood but not without controversy. The provocative image also had overtones of pedophilia for some, though that was never the intent of Steve Averill, the artistic director for the project. For that reason, the cover of the North American pressing was altered to feature a distorted picture of the band members. A bold and creative project, Boy was welcomed by critics and fans alike and produced U2’s first hit single, “I Will Follow,” a song about the unconditional love of a mother for her child but also containing a subtle message about the group’s own journey toward the Christian faith. The album was considered a success, solidifying U2’s presence in the United Kingdom and introducing the young band to North America through supporting tours in 1980 and 1981.
While the recording of Boy was an exciting, joyful, and successful experience, the production of U2’s second album would nearly be their demise. With mixed reviews and little radio play, October (1981) was heavily themed with spiritual imagery, reflecting Bono, Edge, and Larry’s involvement in the Christian commune Shalom. Lyrics for the album seemed weak to critics, focusing on the band’s religious experience rather than issues that mattered to a broader audience. Peppered with sentiments like “Rejoice,” a powerful antipunk notion of Bono’s that went unacknowledged by reviewers, weighty Latin phrases from church liturgy in “Gloria, in te Domine,” and direct quotes about the apocalypse from Revelation 6:12–13 in “Fire,” the content felt preachy and paternal to many.
To complicate the matter, just before the band began recording in a Minneapolis studio, Bono’s briefcase containing the lyrics for October went missing from backstage at a show in Portland, Oregon. The pressure to improvise and write new songs on the fly created an undue burden on the crew as Lillywhite filled the role of producer once again. Also at this time, the three members of Shalom were struggling to understand their place as artists, wondering if their greatest service to God might be met by surrendering the band. In the end, Bono, Edge, and Larry left the commune and gave themselves to their music, what they believed was an equally valid expression of Christian faith. The same notion permeated the 2015 Innocence + Experience tour, when Bono, on behalf of his bandmates, routinely told audiences, “We surrender to you. We surrender to the music. We surrender to the God who made the music.”
But though October seemed an irrelevant album to critics, its themes were significant and important to the band and reflect an ongoing growth in its ideology. Still discontent with the shortcomings of the hippies and punks, U2 was committed to a much more positive outlook. “October is an image,” said Bono in a 1982 interview before a concert in Hattem, Netherlands,
We’ve been through a time when things were in full bloom. We had fridges and cars and we sent people to the moon, and everybody thought how great mankind was. But now it’s gone through the seventies and through the eighties and it’s a colder time of year . . . and the “trees are stripped bare,” and we finally realize maybe we weren’t so smart after all . . . now that we’ve used the technology we’ve been blessed with to build bombs for war machines. (U2, “U2 October Interview” 1982)
U2 considered itself an alternate voice to the pessimism that faced an increasingly fractured Dublin. “This band stamps on pessimism. We’re anti-cynics. October is an optimistic record, because through it there’s a joy” (U2, “U2 October Interview” 1982). While other bands were repeating the mantras of unemployment and despair, Bono countered, “Fight it. Rejoice. Don’t let it bring you down” (U2, “U2 October Interview” 1982). And perhaps that’s the message U2 repeated to itself as its second album, essentially a record about God, found only marginal success, ultimately disappointing the band. Fortunately, the members, undaunted by their limited success, learned to turn their failures around and forge ahead.
Their next project, War (1983), did just that. While Boy dealt with the theme of innocence and October with spirituality, U2’s third album was much more black and white, focusing on the less nebulous concept of warfare. Turning outward, the band began an examination of global issues, including peace, aggression, and the human condition, subject matter that would fuel U2 through the 1980s. Once again, Lillywhite was at the helm as producer, helping the band craft an iconic record that conveyed both the physical and emotional consequences of violence, by setting aside the ethereal gimmicks of the first two albums in favor of raw, stripped-down instruments and tracks. Peter Rowen, the child who appeared on Boy, was the subject of this album’s cover again, but this time the boy looked seasoned, as if he himself had been the victim of a difficult life.
The album’s first track, “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” has become one of U2’s most famous. Often interpreted as a protest song, its inspiration comes from three separate events. First, the song provides a nod to Sunday, January 30, 1972, a day when the British military killed thirteen unarmed Irish civil rights protestors and wounded thirteen others, deepening the conflict of the Troubles in Derry, Northern Ireland. Second, the song references a much older event on Sunday, November 21, 1920, in Dublin, when the Irish Republican Army (IRA) assassinated fourteen British agents, later resulting in the killing of fourteen civilians by British forces during a soccer match at Croke Park. Finally, the concluding line of the song, “To claim the victory Jesus won on Sunday Bloody Sunday,” was meant to be a reflection on the redeeming nature of the first Easter Sunday. Though much less overt than October, Bono’s lyric suggested that the way of Christ could provide a peaceful path through the world’s conflicts.
War also produced other popular hits. “New Year’s Day” has been a standard in concert for over thirty years, and “40” combined a series of Psalms (6, 40, and 140) and became the closing concert number in the early 1980s, during which the foursome would walk off the stage one by one while the audience repeated the ancient poetic phrase, “How long, to sing this song?” (a theme also found in “Sunday Bloody Sunday”). Overall, War was U2’s first number-one album in the United Kingdom, even displacing Michael Jackson’s wildly popular Thriller. Through the band’s third album, accompanied by an ambitious supporting tour, U2 had solidified its place as a popular European band that was here to stay.
Over the course of the late 1970s and early 1980s, the Irish quartet, first known as Feedback, then the Hype, and finally U2, embraced adolescence. Moving from schools to clubs to international tours, the band navigated the music industry with a fresh ideology, a new business model, engaging stage performances, passionate activism, pioneering technologies, and a reinvigorated faith. Though certainly not without difficulties, especially with regard to song writing and integration of at least three members’ Christianity, the fledgling group overcame every obstacle. But perhaps the most outstanding quality of U2 was its ability to connect with an audience. Not satisfied with the mindless fodder of popular culture, this young band considered its listeners more intelligent than average concertgoers, capable of hearing content that went deeper than the status quo. In a sense, U2’s audience had grown and matured right alongside the band.
Reflecting on seeing U2 for the first time in 1980, music critic Jim Henke wrote,
U2 was special. It didn’t matter where the concert was taking place. Their sheer power and passion, coupled with Bono’s ability to break down the barrier between the stage and audience, completely knocked me out. I thought they were amazing. (Henke, “Here Comes the Next Big Thing”)
Having gained a firm foothold in Ireland and the United Kingdom, many bands might have rested on their accomplishments. Not U2. The first three albums and associated tours were just warm-ups for the next big stage in the band’s career. And though they had made forays across the Atlantic many times, they soon set out in earnest to conquer a new frontier. Armed with powerful performances and compelling messages, U2 embraced a new image and style and ran headlong and wholeheartedly into the arms of America.