Even Better than the Real Thing

19 years ago this very day, I ducked out of school on my lunch break, drove to the local record store, and bought this:

November 19, 1991 was the day it was released, and here’s the story behind it.

I have a confession to make – I am a U2 fan.  I realize that’s an un-cool statement to make, given that U2 are not cool by the normal standard.  The only thing cool about U2 is to viscerally hate their pompous, earnest stadium rock (the same grief Coldplay gets – and another band I quite like, so there).  Somehow, Radiohead gets a pass because they’re all arty and serious, but their fans are the biggest shitheads around and worse than people who constantly berate you for buying a Mac instead of a PC, because these things supposedly matter.  But I am a U2 fan – I have all their albums, saw them in concert several times, and even liked No Line on the Horizon.

This all has to do, I realize, with the age I discovered them.

I discovered them, along with most of you, in 1987 when The Joshua Tree was released and you couldn’t walk the street without tripping over “With or Without You.”  For an impressionable fourteen year old, the great thing about U2 was that they weren’t what was clogging the airwaves at the time – Bon Jovi and Warrant and “Unskinny Bop” – they were serious, they had a conscience, they were all about Amnesty International and Greenpeace and to someone on the cusp of adulthood, concern for the state of the world was becoming a growing concern.

Another reason I responded to them was, by this point, I was still the “new kid” at my school and at my new hometown.  We’d moved in August 1986 and while I made friends fast, still felt like something of an outsider.  And as so much of The Joshua Tree is about alienation, and fear, and desire, it was like handing a glass of ice water to a man dying of thirst.  So I dug U2, but not in a huge way.  I didn’t get The Joshua Tree until Christmas 1987 (on Vinyl), and had to make a cassette copy to listen to on my walkman.  Of course, the U2 steamroller had just got going when they dropped Rattle and Hum – the album and the movie, and went from “cool, serious band” to “overexposed” in a heartbeat.  I saw Rattle and Hum in the theater, and as it was my first exposure to the band in something of a live setting, my appreciation for them deepened.  The only concerts I’d been to by that point were Jan and Dean, Donny and Marie, and a pre-Private Dancer Tina Turner, so seeing Bono’s ego projected larger than life was a sight to behold.  But more important, the theater sound system was the best stereo one could imagine – the walls were shaking.  Needless to say after the experience I was a full-on fan, no longer just a casual one.  I bought up their back catalog and nearly wore the cassettes out.  The fact that R&H is not a good album by U2 (or anyone else’s) standards is beside the point – it was the right album, and the right movie, at the right time.  I was a fan now, and I anxiously awaited their next album.

And waited.  And waited.  And waited …

1988 became 1989, which became 1990 and then 1991 and there was no sign of a new album.  Unlike this internet age where you have that information at your fingertips (true or rumored), in the early 1990s you either read about it in Rolling Stone or Spin, or you heard nothing.  One advantage of the wait was I filled the gap by discovering other bands who would become as important to me as U2 – Midnight Oil, INXS, REM, The Pixies, Jane’s Addiction, and many more.  Summer 1991 saw the first Lollapalooza festival, Pearl Jam’s Ten, and by September the Pixies released Trompe Le Monde, and Nirvana released Nevermind.

Think of that: 1987 was The Joshua Tree, Bon Jovi, Warrant and Unskinny Bop; 4 years later was Pearl Jam, Lollapalooza and Nirvana.  The Berlin Wall had come down, the Soviet Union was on the way out, and still nothing new from U2.  A lot can change in four years, but an even bigger change was coming.

In late September of 1991 I picked up the newest issue of Rolling Stone (with Guns n’ Roses on the cover – remember Use Your Illusion?).  And in the news section there was a small blurb about U2’s new studio album being readied for release.  The title was Achtung Baby, with the first single “The Fly” set for release in October.

I thought it was a joke.  Really?  They’re calling it Achtung Baby?  They’re releasing a song called The Fly?  This, from the band behind the painfully earnest Joshua Tree and Rattle and Hum?  It had to be a misprint.  They couldn’t be serious.

Could they?

I began to wonder … by now I was well into the left of the dial music that was slowly sweeping across the land.  By the time AB dropped on November 19, 1991, would I even be interested?  Would I even care? This was not a new phenomenon; in years since I’ve fallen in love and then out of love with lots of bands.  Some were just brief affairs of an album or two, some lasted years before fizzling entirely.  Some I still listen to and buy their new releases, but it still feels like a sense of duty more than something I genuinely want to hear.

Late October, “The Fly” was released.  I didn’t so much hear it as see the tail end of the video on Much Music when I got home from school.  It was a good 30 seconds before I realized it was even U2.  Bono was wearing these goofy wrap-around shades; The Edge was wearing his soon to be ubiquitous knit cap and (gasp) bell bottoms.  This wasn’t the U2 of The Joshua Tree, and the music wasn’t like anything U2 had done before.  I was intrigued, but after the low-fi sonic assault of Nevermind, this slick, studio stuff seemed more self-indulgent than anything else.

There was still a month before release, and on a trip to the record store to grab Badmotorfinger by Soundgarden, I happened upon a cassette single (a.k.a. “cassingle”) for The Fly.

I picked it up too and on the way home gave The Fly a listen.   I listened to it several times, along with an included remix, and an instrumental track they did for a Royal Shakespeare Co. production of A Clockwork Orange.   It was all very … different, but as is the case with anything, the more you listen, the more it tends to grow on you.  So everything was in flux come November 21 when I left school at lunch to hit the record store.  You see, this was THE DAY Achtung Baby hit shelves.  To risk restating the experience of buying it, click HERE if you haven’t already.  Done?  Good.

Because in Part 2 we go in-depth…

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About Brad

I'm the author of MAGICIANS IMPOSSIBLE, writer and creator of MIXTAPE, the screenwriter of STONEHENGE APOCALYPSE, ROBOCOP PRIME DIRECTIVES, FRESH MEAT, and this bio.