Album Review: U2 - How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb.

There’s something wrong with U2. It’s not Bono’s holier-than-thou wankery. It’s not The Edge’s laughably pretentious moniker. And it’s not the fact they’ve most recently appeared in iPod commercial.

No. The problem is that they always promise more than they deliver; they’re never honest with us; they always seem to come up a little short. They write songs called Sunday Bloody Sunday and albums entitled How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb, but their music completely lacks the manic, genuine political passion of Rage Against The Machine , Billy Bragg or Bob Dylan. They release almost-epic numbers singles like Beautiful Day and then back them up with hackneyed populist embarrassments like Stuck In A Moment You Can’t Get Out Of. They sound a little like their early '80s counterparts Echo & The Bunnymen and New Order, but they have no edge – pardon the awful pun. They have Brian Eno – master producer, brilliant musician, possible genius – at the producer’s desk, but they don’t seem to do much with him.

That’s what frustrates me about U2. If they just came out and admitted that they’re a bloody brilliant singles band and not much more, I’d probably adore them. This is a band that has delivered genuinely triumphant pop-rock gems like Elevation, With Or Without You, The Sweetest Thing and One. They can write singles that deliver both accessibility and depth, a rare combination in the music world. But whenever I hear their albums, it feels like they should be doing more than they are.

In that way, How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb is a fairly typical U2 album. The sound is a little different – this is a straight-up rock and pop album, without any of the worldly frills of previous efforts – but the template remains much the same. And promises go unfulfilled.

First single and album opener Vertigo is splendid. It’s everything a single should be. Opening with four taps of Larry Mullen Jnr’s drumsticks, the track runs straight at you and punches you in the gut. It’s a visceral pop gem, with liberal serves of distortion and jam-packed with hooks. When Bono says ‘one, two, three, fourteen’ in awful Spanish – either a reference to which albums Steve Lillywhite has produced in, or Bono’s inability to count properly, depending on who you ask – it kicks off one of the more on-point releases of ‘04.

Unfortunately, none of the remaining songs come close to Vertigo. Which isn’t to say they’re bad. Miracle Drug sounds like With Or Without You with crappier lyrics, but it’s still a charmer. Crumbs From Your Table may be a pseudo-existential wank with gobbledegook lyrics, but the typically excellent fretwork from The Edge makes it all worthwhile. City Of Blinding Lights does what U2 do best: dynamics and sing-a-long choruses and almost-epic bridges. Love And Peace Or Else will no doubt be a single, and with good reason. No, the problem with the album isn’t what it is, but what it could have been.

It’s called How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb. The cover design – with fat red lines and a pitch black background – screams military. There’s a track on the album called Love And Peace Or Else. And yet the album is notably introspective. It’s about relationships and life at home. We live in a world full of madness, violence and war, and yet Bono seems completely unwilling to have a crack at a genuine political song. For a man who is supposedly so passionate about the plight of others – hey, he sang on Bob Geldof's Do They Even Know It’s Christmas? with Simon Le Bon, Beorge George, et al – his inability to deal with the big issues is notable. Love And Peace Or Else sounds like an excitingly oblique and vicious threat, but the song itself – with it’s refrain of, I kid you not, ‘where is the love?’ – comes off as a meek request by a man too afraid to go out on a limb that might alienate listeners.

Almost every song on the album is filled with references to ‘you.’ When an album is called How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb, you’d think these references might be a little threatening or taunting or, well, interesting. No dice. When Bono says 'you,' he's referring to... well, it doesn't really matter. It just sounds nice.

But, hey, you deal. The album is still good. If you ignore the fact that U2 could clearly do more with their talents than they do, How To Dismantle… is a great effort. Few albums boast a single as strong as Vertigo, and the album doesn’t tire on repeat listens. As a stocking filler, it’s not half bad, and as a testament to the strength of a band who’ve been around longer than I’ve been alive, it’s impressive. But as a lyrically interesting or musically innovative album, it’s not going to set the world on fire.

(Originally published at fasterlouder.com.au).

(Photo: Bono and The Edge, a few minutes after setting the world for Most Bagels Eaten By Pseudonym-Using Rockstars In An Hour).