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THE YEAR OF BONO:
2010 marks the Irish lead singer’s
50th birthday |
Specials
January 13, 2010 |
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On May 10 this year, Bono will turn fifty. The new generation of U2 fans would be listening to a man old enough to be their father but hip enough to still be o n the cover of GQ.
Thirty years ago, U2 released their debut album Boy. When they opened for Echo & the Bunnymen, he was only twenty and had a mountain of hair. He had as much charisma then as he does now. The difference is that U2’s audience didn’t change much. When you watch an Echo concert today, you’d probably see pot bellies on guys twenty years late for the prom. In contrast, U2’s tours attract girls with tongue rings and butterfly tattoos. They’d follow him anywhere.
Born Paul David Hewson in Dublin, Ireland, he formed U2 in 1976 with the Edge, Larry Mullen, and Adam Clayton. The name Bono Vox (Latin for ‘good voice’) was given to him by a friend. He couldn’t have picked a better name. He was the Chris Cornell and Eddie Vedder of his time. He had crowds on the palm of his hands while bearing a red flag marching off to war. When George Michael was asking people to ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go,’ he was saying, ‘This is not a rebel song, this is Sunday Bloody Sunday.’ He already had his politics when most singers were still choosing their hairspray.
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My own experience of Bono’s music could be a story just like everyone else’s. The Unforgettable Fire was my first album. I listened to it on the way to school in a mini bus. And just like everyone else at that time, you go t the attitude. Walk the school corridors in slow motion with ‘Pride (In the Name of Love)’ playing in your head as background music and suddenly, you’re Judd Nelson in ‘The Breakfast Club.’ You feel the hair in your back stand up. And at that moment, you think the world owes you its eyes. Bono’s lyrics can also be personal. Sometimes when you’re at a loss for words, he provides it for you like a well-written greeting card.
Unlike the other frontmen of the 80s - the lipstick-wearing Robert Smith or the libidinous Simon Le Bon, he was different. He had the poetry of Morrissey, the exuberance of Tears for Fears’ Roland Orzabal, and most importantly, the sensibilities of Bob Geldof. In many ways, he was mature. And U2 was a mature band among the deluge of new wave hair bands. Hairstyles and pastel clothes aside, they belonged in a category exclusively their own. He was already a serious rock musician when everyone else was trying to land their faces in teen magazines. Years later, he landed his on the cover of Time.
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In 2005, U2 was inducted into the Hall of Fame, immediately after they were deemed eligible. Among the other recipients was Bruce Springsteen. It was an honor short of labeling him immortal. During his career, he had accomplished things few musicians have had the honor to do. Beyond the Grammys and the multi-platinums, he shook hands with presidents, was nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize, recieved honorary knighthood from the Queen, and even gave the Pope a pair of his sunglasses. Bono will turn fifty, but his life’s work would be relevant for another half century – and I will celebrate the date like a sort of homecoming.
- Geonard Yleana
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