“ ‘The Greatest Rock and Roll Band in the World,’ you know what that’s about, don’t you?” asked Bono on night one of U2’s sold-out four-night stand at the FleetCenter last week. “It’s about growing up in the worst part of Dublin, where there was no chance. It comes from being uncool. The Irish aren’t cool. They’re hot.” This last bit provoked a cheer from the audience, which seemed to obscure the point the singer had begun to make. And though the language was muddled, this was as close to an apology for his vanity as he would muster.

A few weeks ago, on the occasion of U2’s sweep in the annual Phoenix/FNX Best Music Poll, I mentioned that I detect in All That You Can’t Leave Behind a profound empathy that trumps the self-satisfied sympathy I’ve always associated with the group. But that empathy just doesn’t come to them naturally. The monster ego — be it born of poverty or of wealth — is U2’s driving force, and it was present in their performance from the moment they took the stage.

It was a good stage: stripped to basics, with the band playing in the round, the sole design gimmick being a valentine-shaped catwalk that reached out to hug a portion of the general-admission audience on the floor. The tour has been dubbed “Elevation”; a better title, to paraphrase a song that opening act PJ Harvey didn’t play, might have been “To Bring You Our Love.”

U2 strode out to an adoring welcome while the house lights were still on — a rare and simple gesture, the implications of which were as easy to read as Bono’s puffed-out chest and exaggerated swagger. A loop of the song “Elevation” was already playing, and the band took it from there, laying into the song’s four chords with the cockiness of a gang who still feel they has something left to prove.

If there was any complaint to be made, it was that U2 oversold themselves. But that’s what makes ’em work. Plenty of bands can fill hockey rinks, but few can command them in the manner of U2. The two-hour set was doused with two decades’ worth of hits anchored by the new album: Behind’s transcendent first single, “Beautiful Day,” then back into the catalogue for “Until the End of the World” and “Mysterious Ways,” forward to the new gospel-tinged “Stuck in a Moment” followed by “Kite,” then back to “Gone.” Only a too loose rearrangement of “One” in the second encore disappointed, and that might just be because I’ve been listening to Johnny Cash’s version a lot lately.

Bono kissed everything in sight, from the hands of the girls in the front row to the Edge’s prickly face. There was a moment during the rapturous melancholy of “With or Without You” when time became confused: spinning floodlights gave the illusion of a massive forward motion even though everything else was standing relatively still. Bono caressed a note with his arms outstretched as the crowd roared and reached for him in uncanny unison. Like a lover’s kiss, it seemed to go on forever.