The Joshua Tree

About

<b>100 Best Albums</b> Shortly before U2 released what became one of the best-selling albums of all time, Bono thought about calling the record-pressing plant to stop production on it. Too many mistake, he thought, too many wrong move. He’d had this feeling before, of course—he later said he couldn’t figure out why anyone would even <i>buy</i> a U2 album. But the stakes were higher now: They’d already been crowned Band of the ’80s by <i>Rolling Stone</i> (in 1985, no less), and their live shows had become the kind of spectacles that inspired rapture. Add to this the anxiety that <i>The Joshua Tree</i> represented something new for the band: the gospel influence, the emotional nakedne, the introduction of understatement to a sound that had defined itself by its forthrightne. In the past, they’d let their songwriting be loose and in-the-moment—after all, planning would’ve been unpunk. Now they were exploring the liberations that come with constraint. Chrissie Hynde of the Pretenders had told Bono he had an amazing voice. But if he was going to sing the way he was capable of singing—the way he so obviously wanted to sing—he’d have to buckle down and write words he really believed in. If you lean in close, you can pull apart the sound in layers: the wisps of guitar, the bits of pocket-watch percussion (“One Tree Hill”). But if you sit back, it sounds minimal and direct. The words point to romantic love (“With or Without You,” “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”) but also to the search for God and meaning—a reflection of the dualities they found in both gospel and the romanticism of Van Morrison and Patti Smith. The backdrop—the inky washes of sound, courtesy of Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois—captures constant change, but the foreground—the march-like rhythm, the impassioned vocals—is steadfast and firm. They rock with the tools of their era, but they also tap into something eternal. .

via Apple Music

The Clerk says

Start your shelf to read the full take →