'Beautiful Day' with U2

As the chorus of “Beautiful Day” wafted over the crisp October air, Arts Editor Katy Doll and I sprinted desperately to cross the N.C. State Fairgrounds over to Carter-Finley Stadium.

The biggest rock stage show in the history of the genre was hitting Raleigh, and we had already missed the first three songs.

Our journey to Raleigh from Chapel Hill, like the rest of the multitudes who braved I-40 Saturday night, was an odyssey. From RDU International Airport on, the interstate moved at a crawl, rendering the usual half hour jaunt into two and a half hours of waiting and worrying.

It was so bad that by the time we got to the Wade Avenue exit a few miles from the venue, people were parking their cars on the side of the freeway, willing to risk the wrath of the law to make it to catch The Edge’s opening guitar chord.

To be honest, we thought about it, too.

But we soldiered on, confusedly navigating the parking beehive that organizers made of the fairgrounds, finally finding a parking place and throwing down $20 for the trouble before scrambling over to the stadium.

And then, as we rushed in to find our seats, there it was, standing before us. “The Spaceship.” At 170 tons, it’s the largest stage of its kind, but its awesomeness doesn’t stop at measurements.

On stage, Bono belted the chorus of new song “Magnificent,” but I barely had time to take in the rock icon before I was distracted by the mechanical monstrosity that surrounded his band.

Around the main stage was a runway, the space between filled with a mob of disciples. Linking the runway to the stage were two catwalks that pivoted to different positions. At corners four enormous legs stretched skyward, bejeweled with sparking multicolor lights. At their joining, a spire shot into the air, also crowned in light. And coming down from the canopy of it all was a circular screen which projected the band to every eye in every direction.

And the point of all this, as Bono told the crowd, was “intimacy on a grand scale.”

“What do you think of our space junk?” he asked. “We knew our Spaceship would take us all kinds of places, but we built it to get close to you, the audience.”

And on songs such as an acoustic duo version of “Stuck In A Moment You Can’t Get Out Of,” it did just that. As Bono and guitarist The Edge sang the ending harmony to each other, they were framed in spotlight, a passionate moment captured in crystal clarity by 360 degrees of screen.

But more often the stage and U2’s high-tech tricks made the Raleigh stop on the U2360° Tour more spectacular than personal.

In a dance remix of “I’ll Go Crazy If I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight,” the band rushed to its runway with bongos and a beat that just wouldn’t quit. Blue lights flashed as a circle of bobbling U2 heads took over the video board and two disco balls threw shimmering light all around.

Did it make me feel closer to U2? Not really. Was it overwhelming? You have no idea.

At the end of the day, U2 isn’t really a band you can get close to. They’re too large, too all-encompassing to belong to just you.

For the encore, Bono came out in a jacket covered in lasers that cut into the fog like energy bursting forth from his very pores. You can’t identify with a man made out of lasers. It’s something we mere mortals will never do.

But we can still get caught up in Bono’s presence. We can still ride along on The Edge’s tidal waves of warm distortion. We can still marvel at the biggest spectacle in rock ‘n’ roll.

And that’s the kind of experience that justifies almost any journey, no matter how arduous.



Contact Jordan Lawrence at dive@unc.edu.