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Once met, those eyes are well remembered. They lock in for good as he travels the stage in a perpetual panther prowl. His presence is not specifically sexual, but it is intensely sensual and lends heft to his lyrical excursions. It also gives the spirituality and frequent Christian symbolism of the songs ("See the thorn twist in your side"; "I stand with the sons of Cain") a welcome grounding in earthly delights. "Their show is the best around," remarks an appreciative T Bone Burnett, a guitar player and record producer (Elvis Costello, the BoDeans) of no mean skill. "U2 is what church should be." Lest such praise become a little burdensome, Larry Mullen keeps this reflection handy: "At the end of the day, it's just rock 'n' roll."
For audiences, though, that music can be a lifeline. A Springsteen song can tap right into your daily existence. A U2 tune like Running to Stand Still, with a trancelike melody that slips over the transom of consciousness, insinuates itself into your dreams. Patty Klipper, from Parsippany, N.J., says, "First they opened my mind to their music. Then their music opened my mind to the world." The band's official fan magazine, called Propaganda and edited by their tour lighting director, is a neatly turned out publication that features the usual inside-band stuff as well as some unexpected calls to political action. Fan publications usually urge readers to stay in touch with the musicians. Propaganda urges them to write letters on behalf of Amnesty International: "Please write to the federal authorities in Yugoslavia, asking for the immediate and release of Dr. Nikola Novakovic and all other Prisoners of Conscience. Write to: President of the Presidency of Bosnia-Hercegovina . . . Begin your letter 'Your Excellency . . .' "
His Excellency is not likely to invite the band to fall by for plum brandy and cabbage rolls, and U2 is probably not at the top of the White House invitation list, either. They are dead serious about their liberal activist politics although careful not to be sanctimonious. Clayton talks worriedly about some fans turning to the band "needing to be healed," and Bono says," I would hate to think everybody was into U2 for 'deep' and 'meaningful' reasons. We're a noisy rock-'n'-roll band. If we all got onstage, and instead of going 'Yeow!' the audience all went 'Ummmm' or started saying the rosary, it would be awful." The band shares a kind of ecumenical, nonspecific spirituality. Bono, the Edge and Mullen are Christians, although of a particularly loose-limbed variety.
The Edge: "I suppose I am a Christian, but I am not a religious person." Bono: "I feel unworthy of the name. It is a pretty high compliment. But I feel at home in the back of a Catholic cathedral, in a revival hall or walking down a mountainside." Mullen: "I am a Christian and not ashamed of that. But trying to explain my beliefs, our beliefs, takes away from it. I have more in common with somebody who doesn't believe at all than I do with most Christians. I don't mind saying that."