Welcome to ZOO TV, y'all

In a review of U2's latest album, How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb, a fan wrote that it took Bono less than ten seconds to give his critics ammunition and his fans something to defend as he managed to count to '3' in Spanish before getting lost to catorce. It seems to be the way these days- with Bono giving photo-ops to political Neros in his zealous extracurricular political work (often written off as naive - a criticism I don't buy in to, but won't go in to), his cheese-tinged pictorial speeches (watering cans anyone?), and ultimately the latest album being less than riveting - the boys can do nothing right.

It wasn't always like this! Back in the 90s, they were bloody brilliant :-)

"YOU HAVEN'T COME ALL THE WAY OUT HERE TO WATCH TV NOW, HAVE YA?!"

The ZOO TV tour was a spectacle not to be missed. I missed it 'cause, as a twelve year old, my parents didn't trust my ability to find my way around the Dublin metropolis. They were probably right - it turns out I can't find my way out of supermarkets- but it still niggles me. Oh that sensory overload, right from the start. It would have fried my young and developing brain. TV screens to the heavens flashing with madness and wisdom and chaotic moving pictures, my heroes dressed up in silly costumes, then in matching uniforms. Bono flirting with a hot belly dnacer, then playing the televangelist, then the devil-like past-it pop-hero Mister Macphisto. Fabulous.

U2's ZOO TV show from Sydney was re-released recently, this time on DVD for the digital age. About time - my video version has literally worn out through overplaying. It is, in my opinion, the best of their live releases, and it always ranks well in those Top Whatever lists for live shows. It was so extravagant, so outrageous, yet so developed as a work of art. U2 were doing something noone else dared. Apparently it nearly broke the U2 bank, so don't think it's cause they're so enormously rich. It was a risk, costing desperate amounts just to shift the luggage around and get it assembled every night.

REBELLION IS PACKAGED / EVOLUTION IS OVER / ENJOY THE SURFACE / KIDS BLOODY KIDS / EVERYTHING YOU KNOW IS WRONG

The film is bizarrely shot in 4:3 ratio, presumably because video was so hip back then, but it leaves the film looking dated. Nevertheless, you still get a sense of the madness blaring out of your telly. The stage looks like a cross between some wasted industrial site and the skeletal mainframe of a fallen space station. There's the East German Trabant cars hanging from the rafters as spotlights. Having been reminded that television is the drug of the nation (Disposable Heroes Of Hiphoprisy), the crowd are asked, "What do you want?" in several languages, before the show kicks off with the thundering fire bomb of Zoo Station. It starts as it means to go on. As character The Fly, Bono plays up the rockstar sticking his face in the cameras of the paparazzi who are as much of the show at this point as they are reporting it. (All his characters through the show deserve an expanded discussion, and have received as much from fans and art critics, so I'll resist taking that particular lesson :-) )

"HAVE YOU COME HERE TO PLAY JESUS? I DID"

Having punched their audience in the collective gob with an overload of rock sound and randomly fired images (that can't even be teased apart by freeze-framing your home copy - I've tried), the band have no problem in then lifting the stadium to ecstasy with Edge's sliding Mysterious Ways solo, followed by the beautiful, tragic One. This U2 at their best, I have no doubt.

Until The End Of The World, New Year's Day, Angel Of Harlem, Stay (Faraway, So Close), Numb, Lou Reed even makes an appearance, sharing the vocals in his Satellite Of Love from the large screen above the stage - it's class stuff throughout the first set, and the close in particular is incredibly moving. The band have never held back when playing Bullet The Blue Sky, their rage against America's aggressive foreign policy, and they give it some wellie in Sydney - on screen is a burning cross, and with the pounding undercurrent and screaming guitar, it cuts to the bone. Having spent their rage, the band turn to confession as Bono sings of weakness, addiction, and failing in the re-worked Running To Stand Still. "Hallelujah, hallelujah" he sings, then he is smothered in clouds as his harmonica wails. And the lights turn red. You can sense the crowd's anticipation - with Mullen's high-hat count in, Edge's delay pedal working over time, and the band exchanging time signatures, the first set nears it close with Where the Streets Have No Name. Suddenly the stadium is flooded with light allowing the fans and the band to see all the faces right to the back. It's understandably a live favourite, never failing to lift the soul, and it's followed by Pride (In the Name Of Love) and, "Thank you, good night."

"YOU CRY FOR MAMA... AND DADDY'S RIGHT ALONG"

Of course, it's not over yet. And I, for one, can't help but watch the whole gig in one sitting. After an interlude of Lenin's favourite fanfare, with vocals seemingly sung by a lemon-headed cartoon spaceman, Mister Macphisto appears on-screen from backstage and the band launch into Daddy's Gonna Pay For Your Crashed Car. Lots of America didn't 'get' the album Zooropa (recorded mid-tour after Achtung Baby), but I love it. And Daddy... is the perfect stage song for this devil as he signals the cannons to shoot money (well, ZOO ECUs) into the front rows. The show pauses as Macphisto goes through a list of thank-yous to everyone from Clinton ("too tall to be a despot, but watch him closely") to the people of Sarajevo who should be thankful for getting to be on TV. Then a phonecall for a taxi home, a drunken murmur of Show Me The Way To Go Home before the boys take off again with a magical Lemon, (not in a magical Lemon - that's the next tour). It's the delightful falsetto ode to the singer's reason for living, whether it be a heavenly lady or a fashion conscious God-above.

"Off with the horns, on with the show" he declares as the Zoo TV journey quiets.

"TAKE MY HEART. IT'S BLINDNESS"

And what a flipping journey it has been, but it is the lack of destination in the closing moments that leaves me breathless. Imagine a stadium full of Aussies stunned into silence as the band weave heartache and desperation through With Or Without You and Love Is Blindness. Nothing matches this finale, and nothing could prepare you for it. Did every show on the tour finish with this? Amidst star constellations, it is beautiful, and dark. Honestly, it is aching. I don't know of many bands who could pull off this feat in such a setting, and after two hours the crowd are still left wanting more. The boys play like they have lost everything, and are scratching in the darkness for a candle to light. And when you think no more is possible, the last song on the list is Elvis' classic Can't Help Falling In Love. Yes, it works perfectly - karaoke pop, and foolishness, and rock heroes, and under it all, love and longing.

It's the music, the poetry, the video drama, the ideas, the moments of glory and moments of hurt. It's all there. My old soul is hard pressed to find a better night in than with 90s U2 on the telly.