You might say my deeply abiding love for the music of U2 is almost a fluke, induced by a desire to be like cooler, older kids. But I submit that the circumstances that lead to my possession of this album display an innate inclination within myself to U2's music, a practically uncontrollable force. The first time I remember hearing U2 was thanks to MTV's airing of the 500 top music videos of all time (circa 1996). There was a small period where I was a latchkey kid and would come home after school in 5th grade, grab a bowl of cereal and pull up a stool to the counter and watch TV in the kitchen until my parents came home. This was back when MTV actually played music. Somewhere in the top 100 "With or Without You" came up and I was mesmerized - something clicked. I faintly remembered the little white lettering on the bottom left of the screen identifying the artist, album and song.
The next encounter came during a church youth trip. I was maybe 12. As a caravan of cars we moved from east to west across Montana. Somehow I wound up in a car full of "cool older guys", 16-18 year olds. Why they allowed me join them I didn't know but I was ecstatic and glad to not be in my parent's maroon, boxy Ford Aerostar. I was in the middle in the back seat, too intimidated to do anything other than just sit and listen. They had their portable CD player hooked into the car system and their carefully-organized CD cases. At one point someone asked, "What do you guys want to listen to?" Someone else volunteered, "Let's listen to some U2. Put in The Joshua Tree." My ears perked slightly. I faintly remembered these names from that white text on the tv in my kitchen. Quickly my ears confirmed to me not only that this was the same U2 from the video, but that their music was amazing - this album was amazing. It's name was now ingrained in my long-term memory, even though I wasn't really sure what an album was.
This all came to a culmination when my parents decided to join one of those CD clubs that used to be popular like Columbia House and were offering each of us, their children, an opportunity to pick an album from among the 10 or 12 you get from signing up. Without hesitation I knew: U2's The Joshua Tree. The CD came, and even though I had to borrow my sister's discman and headphones to listen to it, I played it nonstop and, with only the passion that young boys have, I became an undying fan of U2. I'm sure that if I hadn't been watching MTV or hadn't ended up in that car I would've recognized the brilliance of U2's music but my introduction first through The Joshua Tree I find very fitting as it is the seminal work in defining their identity as musicians. They were young, but experienced after having completed four albums and breaking into the US music landscape. They were popular, but without quite yet needing to reflect fully on the monstrous status of celebrity within pop culture(see Achtung Baby through Pop).
Growing up in Eastern Montana I spent a lot of time on long car trips. Whenever on these cross-country journeys I would always pack my trusty discman and my thick CD case - a very important expression of yourself was your cd collection. Frequently beginning early in the morning, I always knew The Joshua Tree would be my first pick for these trips. With the steady crescendo opening and the energy-inducing, rhythmically-arpeggiated guitar line from The Edge leading up to Bono's opening lines, the rising sun is the most appropriate visual accompaniment to album-opener "Where the Streets Have No Name". Next, the quickly familiar "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" is only off-putting to those that flatly deny humanity and the mortal experience. The song is yearning for divinity. Then "With or Without You" hits with that alternating ringing track and Adam Clayton's simple, commanding baseline and your face gets serious as you try to adequately express how amazing and serious this music is making you feel without letting anyone else know, but then you let loose, inhibitions aside, as you reel with the exuding lift of the chorus and you feel you kind of know what he means when he says "you give yourself away." At this point my mother turn back towards me with a scolding look saying my music was too loud and everyone else did not want to listen to what I was listening to. No sound-canceling headphones back then.
The Joshua Tree introduced me to the concept of an album as a singular work - a whole piece of art with a structure and parts that are meant to go together. Sure most of the tracks can be enjoyed on their own, but they all share a similar aura that becomes clearer in a complete listen. Originally it was going to be titled "Two Americas", reflecting two conflicting ideas U2 had, and especially Bono, about this new land they'd gotten to know. One was the America as a frontier of hope, receiver of the down-trodden, and distiller of dreams. The other was America as the insistent war machine. Neither perspective was partisan or directly political and when viewed as a whole you get the feeling its told with love. "Bullet the Blue Sky" and "Exit" are most reflective of the "other side" of America with heavy guitars and harsh lyrics.
Somewhere in the transition from "Two Americas" to "Joshua Tree," the American Southwest entered as another influence. It's heard most plainly through the pleading blue-collar village in "Red Hill Milling Town," the quick nymphal desert of "In God's Country," and the dirty bar-room blues of "Twist Through Your Wires." And although a place where the streets have no names may feel like a peaceful utopia, it just as easily invokes the desert. This region, along with the frequent religious references, reveal why the hopeful, outstretched arms of the joshua tree is a fitting symbol for the music.
Every track is golden but "Running To Stand Still" will be the favorite U2 song you've never heard if you don't know this album. There's a story behind some of the imagery in the song, but never mind, you don't need to know it. Starting and ending with the searching plucking that makes you think of a cowboy leaned back on the boardwalk picking at an acoustic guitar, you follow the rise of the piano and tumbling of the low-tom to the pounding peak, and then back down to the closing jailhouse harmonica. I guess all I'm doing is describing the actual music, but doesn't it sound like you just want to listen to it? Rounding out the track listing is the uplifting but painful "One Tree Hill" - written in honor of a friend of the band that passed away - and "Mothers of the Disappeared" - in honor of stolen children and their families in Latin America. Both tell the story of those left behind when the innocent are taken too soon. "Mothers" plays the important role of being the strong, solid closing track. The final song of an album is like the music playing over a movie's credits. It puts the final touch on the work, defining the last impression as something complete and meaningful. If you get up and walk out once the screen goes black you have cut short your experience. Don't make the mistake of cutting short any part of your experience with U2's The Joshua Tree.
The next encounter came during a church youth trip. I was maybe 12. As a caravan of cars we moved from east to west across Montana. Somehow I wound up in a car full of "cool older guys", 16-18 year olds. Why they allowed me join them I didn't know but I was ecstatic and glad to not be in my parent's maroon, boxy Ford Aerostar. I was in the middle in the back seat, too intimidated to do anything other than just sit and listen. They had their portable CD player hooked into the car system and their carefully-organized CD cases. At one point someone asked, "What do you guys want to listen to?" Someone else volunteered, "Let's listen to some U2. Put in The Joshua Tree." My ears perked slightly. I faintly remembered these names from that white text on the tv in my kitchen. Quickly my ears confirmed to me not only that this was the same U2 from the video, but that their music was amazing - this album was amazing. It's name was now ingrained in my long-term memory, even though I wasn't really sure what an album was.
This all came to a culmination when my parents decided to join one of those CD clubs that used to be popular like Columbia House and were offering each of us, their children, an opportunity to pick an album from among the 10 or 12 you get from signing up. Without hesitation I knew: U2's The Joshua Tree. The CD came, and even though I had to borrow my sister's discman and headphones to listen to it, I played it nonstop and, with only the passion that young boys have, I became an undying fan of U2. I'm sure that if I hadn't been watching MTV or hadn't ended up in that car I would've recognized the brilliance of U2's music but my introduction first through The Joshua Tree I find very fitting as it is the seminal work in defining their identity as musicians. They were young, but experienced after having completed four albums and breaking into the US music landscape. They were popular, but without quite yet needing to reflect fully on the monstrous status of celebrity within pop culture(see Achtung Baby through Pop).
Growing up in Eastern Montana I spent a lot of time on long car trips. Whenever on these cross-country journeys I would always pack my trusty discman and my thick CD case - a very important expression of yourself was your cd collection. Frequently beginning early in the morning, I always knew The Joshua Tree would be my first pick for these trips. With the steady crescendo opening and the energy-inducing, rhythmically-arpeggiated guitar line from The Edge leading up to Bono's opening lines, the rising sun is the most appropriate visual accompaniment to album-opener "Where the Streets Have No Name". Next, the quickly familiar "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" is only off-putting to those that flatly deny humanity and the mortal experience. The song is yearning for divinity. Then "With or Without You" hits with that alternating ringing track and Adam Clayton's simple, commanding baseline and your face gets serious as you try to adequately express how amazing and serious this music is making you feel without letting anyone else know, but then you let loose, inhibitions aside, as you reel with the exuding lift of the chorus and you feel you kind of know what he means when he says "you give yourself away." At this point my mother turn back towards me with a scolding look saying my music was too loud and everyone else did not want to listen to what I was listening to. No sound-canceling headphones back then.
Somewhere in the transition from "Two Americas" to "Joshua Tree," the American Southwest entered as another influence. It's heard most plainly through the pleading blue-collar village in "Red Hill Milling Town," the quick nymphal desert of "In God's Country," and the dirty bar-room blues of "Twist Through Your Wires." And although a place where the streets have no names may feel like a peaceful utopia, it just as easily invokes the desert. This region, along with the frequent religious references, reveal why the hopeful, outstretched arms of the joshua tree is a fitting symbol for the music.
Every track is golden but "Running To Stand Still" will be the favorite U2 song you've never heard if you don't know this album. There's a story behind some of the imagery in the song, but never mind, you don't need to know it. Starting and ending with the searching plucking that makes you think of a cowboy leaned back on the boardwalk picking at an acoustic guitar, you follow the rise of the piano and tumbling of the low-tom to the pounding peak, and then back down to the closing jailhouse harmonica. I guess all I'm doing is describing the actual music, but doesn't it sound like you just want to listen to it? Rounding out the track listing is the uplifting but painful "One Tree Hill" - written in honor of a friend of the band that passed away - and "Mothers of the Disappeared" - in honor of stolen children and their families in Latin America. Both tell the story of those left behind when the innocent are taken too soon. "Mothers" plays the important role of being the strong, solid closing track. The final song of an album is like the music playing over a movie's credits. It puts the final touch on the work, defining the last impression as something complete and meaningful. If you get up and walk out once the screen goes black you have cut short your experience. Don't make the mistake of cutting short any part of your experience with U2's The Joshua Tree.
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