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	U2 (B)OLDER AND WISER

Subtlety has never been U2’s strong suit. Even back when the foursome were first getting off the ground, they wrote big, bold, arena-ready anthems full of rousing choruses, driving martial beats, and guitar hooks big enough to hang all the hopes and dreams of a generation on. Bono, the band’s brash frontman, has grown (b)older, wiser, and much more media savvy over the years. But if his faith in the power of the human spirit, the righteousness of his humanitarian cause, and the rousing grandeur of the Edge’s echo-laden guitar has ever wavered, he certainly hasn’t shown it. After a decade and a half of boldly going where no band had gone before — of using a marriage of technology and pomo design to create arena-rock spectacle on a scale the Stones have only dreamed of — U2 have taken a little step back, opting, as they occasionally do, to play relatively cozy venues like the FleetCenter instead of massive stadiums. They’ve pared down their stage show, eschewing massive architectural sets in favor of a modest array of futuristic chandeliers, a few big beaded LED curtains, an oval runway that even Bono didn’t spend much time circling, and some requisite if unassuming black-and-white video screens. Bono, it would seem, has once again placed that unshakable faith of his back in his band’s near-mystical ability to connect head-on with large crowds, filling every ticketholder with the same surging sense of hope and empathy that’s driven U2 for 25 years.

I made it out to the second of U2’s three Fleet shows, a week ago Thursday. And though I’m aware that the set list changes from night to night, with U2 it almost doesn’t matter which songs they choose to play. They’ve always been about creating something holistic and transcendent — you get the feeling Bono goes home sulking if he hasn’t changed a life or two, if he hasn’t, for at least a few fleeting minutes, made the disparate crowd come together. And he’s such a natural that it’s almost easier for him to make that impact without the bells and whistles. He didn’t even have to say much to make his point: the war in Iraq has vested 20-year-old U2 favorites like "Sunday Bloody Sunday" with new urgency and meaning, and no explication was necessary when he injected a few lines of "When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again" into "Bullet the Blue Sky." His suggestion that we are all children of Abraham — Jesus and Mohammed included — didn’t resonate half as much as the wordless gesture of moving the Star of David bandana he’d donned mid set over his eyes until it became a blindfold familiar to anyone who’s seen prisoner-of-war photos. The message was a bit mixed, but it was by no means subtle.