U2 Chicago, 2017 Part 1

So, this is a bit late, and I'm sure I'm going to forget half of the warm and fuzzy thoughts I had coming away from the show, but as luck would have it, I have a half hour to kill at lunch today, and The Joshua Tree happens to be on my mind. As usual. Going on about 3 weeks after seeing the lads rock and roll their way through the hearts and souls of about 60 thousand in the windy city, and I sit in rainy Minneapolis stuck between what was, and what will be. The difficulty with talking about a meaningful concert such as this was, is attempting to harness all of the emotion and combining with at least a tiny bit of good old fashioned reporting and mashing all of that together.

There are a few folks I've gotten to know through the "U2 twitter family" who swore off any kind of updates or streams or details about the early shows on this legendary tour. I, am not one of those iron willed souls. Call it curiosity, or call it fandom, but I was one of the majority, sitting at my house and staring into the tiny screen of my I-phone, saliva surely pooling at one or both corners of my mouth, and witnessing the sheer bliss of listening to and sometimes watching the greatest band in the history of histories shred through my mantra of an album, my opus if you will, The Joshua Tree. So, I knew what I was getting into, I knew the general flow of things to come that night. And, to be honest, at least initially, it definitely was a negative. Let me expound. I found myself being jealous of those who "didn't" know what was coming and their Christmas morning like reactions to the show. Each song like opening another pretty and fancy package. "Ooh, Ma, I got a 'In God's country', and Sally got an "exit", what I really really was hoping for was a....wait a second, what's that in the corner, under the tree....Yes! It's a 'red hill mining town'....Santa sure knew what he was doing this year!" Ok, maybe that's a tad over the top. But, you get my drift. I knew what they were opening with. I knew at what point they would exit the B or tree stage, and for the briefest of moments, I felt a pang of regret. Well, the pang never lasts long. The wonderment and the spectacle of the live show takes over and the "miracle drug" that is U2 live more than takes over. (see what I did there? wrong tour....I know) But, I digress. This is part 1. The show itself is part 2.

I want to pontificate about the pre-show. I'll start with the GA experience. I love GA. I have always sworn by it, and if you're expecting me to change course at all during or after this blog, think again. It's the one area where I champion myself as a concert snob. I just think its such a special and more intimate experience. And by intimate, of course I mean that you literally become one with the sweaty and hot people standing in front of you. And behind you. And on each side of you. And your personal space? It has suddenly become someone else's personal space. These much bally-hood warm and accepting and peaceful u2 fans are now shoving, and cursing at those who are attempting the long standing tradition of the "budge". I swore I saw at least 3 instances of straight up, hate filled and very real angst between parties because, "by God, I was here at 6am and I have an arm band and you don't, so get the F**k out of here you no good, piece of sh**t!" Yes, that happened. And, as I'm sitting on the floor of Soldier field, glistening with sweat, already shoulder to shoulder with folks and still hours away from the Lumineers taking the stage, I looked up into the seats. And it was like a dying man crawling through the desert. And the seats were this shimmering and welcoming oasis. The nobles and dignitaries in reserved seating coming and going, as they please, returning with these jewel like receptacles filled with liquid sex, er, I mean water. Coming and going, coming and going. Beverages and food. All you want. Of course, I'm sure you need a credit rating of 650 or above to qualify for th freaking loan it'd take to eat and drink for the whole night, but that's another rant. 8 dollar water is what I'll call that one. No, in the confines that is GA, and especially the GA as you get closer to one of the stages, most, if not all personal space disappears much as the oasis does to the parched man in the desert. What you WILL find in GA, is conversations such as...."Next time, I'm just gonna wear a diaper", or "I'm warning you all now, that push comes to shove, I will piss my pants". All the while, I'm staring longingly at the folks in the seats, with their feet up, sipping on seemingly endless drinks, and smiling down at us dregs like we're the hired help. When we get our spot, we don't leave. Some do. I'm amazed at how some folks leave right in the middle of chaos, and are able to get back. Most of us aren't that lucky. I feel that if I left for a bathroom or drink break, I would need to return with a crowbar and a baseball bat to even think about getting my spot back. Forgoing bathrooms and beverages serves only to heighten just how incredible the seats look as one basks in the open air of a June Chicago sun.

But, all of that fades away once the lights start to dim. The buzz of the stadium, the tingling anticipation. There's no where else I'd rather be. Standing amongst brothers, sisters. It's tight for sure, and will only get tighter. But, when the Pogues announced the pending arrival of our heroes, and when Larry Mullen Jr so casually strolls down the runway, GA is where I have to be. This is rock and roll, and I'm a big proponent of the time honored "there's no sitting down during a rock concert" crowd. And yet, God love them, there are always points in just about every show where wide swaths of an arena will deem it ok to have a seat. And, then, the folks who subscribe to the same axioms as I do, ultimately feel like awkward fools when they stay standing up during some slower number like RTSS. I'd rather not deal with any of that, and be free to be as big of an idiot as I can be(sadly, I'm actually pretty reserved....well, until Streets). I love this band, and while I'm never going to wear a diaper for them, I will always greet them from my spot ten feet from the stage.