Thursday, 27 August 2015

It's Contagious.

This clip never gets old.

                  They start so small. With Edges's guitar and Bono singing, sitting on the couch. Will Smith looking on as Larry plays the fricking TAMBOURINE behind them. Adam's always been a bit of a wanker for me but and I'm not entirely sure if he's playing or not be he's still a vital part. They wouldn't be U2 without any of the four members.

The magic happens the further the song goes on. Bono stands up. Edge stands up. Something shifts as Bono calls for Jimmy's band Roots to join them which they do, acting all cool but the smile on one of the guys in Roots cannot be hidden. He's jamming' with U2 live, man. You can't act cool with that.

Then Jimmy stands up, Bono and Edge and Roots strumming up a fucken storm and you know what U2 do before every single concert? They pray and invite Spirit into the stadium.

So suddenly there's this Spirit of the music and the words and the joy and spontaneity spills out. It's captivating.

The song was written for the movie about Nelson Mandela starring Idris Elba who played drug lord Stringer Bell in my brothers favourite series, The Wire. (Cam even had McNulty as his Facebook profile picture. I'd say come on dude, put a photo of YOU up there. He never did.)

The lyrics are in reference to Mandela and his wife Winnie's marriage, how long it endured during the unendurable and then crashed and burnt after Nelson was released from prison. Funny how things turn out. I sing this song all the time in my car solo and I always think of Cam.

"I can't fight you anymore
It's you I'm fighting for. 
The sea throws rocks together
But time leaves us polished stones."

I remember weeping into the t-shirt on the shoulders of someone not long after Cam died, saying why couldn't Cam have waited to become a polished stone?

The tears on that t-shirt have long dried.

At the end, everybody in the audience stands up because they can feel something happening ..  perhaps aren't entirely sure what. But they feel it.

And Bono, one of the biggest influences on my heart and soul? That short arrogant caring poetic Irish dude? Still can't dance for shit.

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Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell

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