This work was commissioned for the site atu2, which was online from 1995 – 2020 and it still protected under a shared copyright.
Many fans remember Bill Carter as they ponytail-wearing journalist who convinced the band to bring the Bosnian War on tour with them in 1993. Few have heard the story of how it all went down.
Today, Carter thrilled attendees of the U2 Conference by sharing his first-person account of the events that led to the satellite link-ups.
20 years ago, Carter had lost his fiancé and joined an unofficial humanitarian group that hand-delivered food to citizens in Sarajevo. He knew that the rest of the world had no idea how bad the situation in that region was, and wanted to find a way to change that.
He described himself at the time as a casual U2 fan—someone who had enjoyed the band’s music and seen a few of their shows growing up, but that was all. He had a good impression of the band members; thought they seemed like decent guys who may be able to help him get the word out about the war. So when he heard they’d be bringing their tour to Italy, he wrote a fake letter on real letterhead from a TV station he was working for and requested an interview, which was miraculously granted (because he pretended to be someone else).
Once he got there, admittedly unprepared, he told Bono of all the things happening in the city under siege, and it brought Bono to tears. The band were only in Italy for a short amount of time, so he was tasked with dreaming up some way for them to help before they left.
After all were in agreement for the satellite link-ups, Bill had a greater problem: Finding folks who would be willing to risk their lives (more than they already w3re by simply living there) to get to the studio to speak to concert audiences. It took him a few days each time to convince the citizens that their participation would make a difference.
And once he did convince them, getting them from point A to point B was no easy feat—he had to drive in the dark with the lights off at approximately 120 miles per hour down “Snipers’ Alley” to make it through. Each trip was just as harrowing as the last, with terrified passengers literally dodging bullets.
Of course he succeeded; the link-ups worked, and the rest is history.
Carter went on to make a documentary about the war, which he was having trouble naming until Bono suggested Miss Sarajevo. Carter thought the name was too “pop” and rejected it until Bono told him that if he used it, he’d write him a song for it.
Again, the rest is history.
Today, Carter is an honorary citizen of (a now-thriving) Sarajevo and the star of his documentary, little Alma, was able to attend an American college with the help of a letter of recommendation from Bono.
This work was commissioned for the site atu2, which was online from 1995 – 2020 and it still protected under a shared copyright.
I’ll admit — I’m not much of a B-side freak.
I know there are fans out there that think many B-sides are equal or superior to their A-side counterparts, but I’m just not one of them. With few exceptions, I’ll give a B-side one or two listens after buying the singles (yes, I’m a completist, so I still buy singles), never to return.
But something magical happened when I first listened to my “Stuck In A Moment” CD in 2001, and left it running to hear the B-sides. A bass-heavy hook got me, so I turned it up. The trademark Bono howls pulled me further in and I was soon falling in love with “Big Girls Are Best.”
While I’m celebrating the fact that this rhythmic song’s got game, I’m also marveling at the lyrics that only Bono could truly pull off well.
Avenue Atlantico 1702 She’s cocoa butter, baby, she’s the glue She’s got a baby at her breast She knows big girls are best
Though I’m not a mother, I am blessed with curves, which the majority of my boyfriends have favored, contrary to my self-criticism.
I’m told by my science-nerd friends that my voluptuous body makes me more appealing to a potential mate because on a biological level it demonstrates that I have a greater capability for fertility. I suppose that does make sense, but unfortunately our American society doesn’t encourage women to embrace their flesh — it in fact makes us feel as if we should be ashamed of it.
But what Bono’s doing here in this song is celebrating the large. He’s raising a drink to the mothers feeding their babies with their well-developed bosoms.
She feels it, every sensation She’s got a smile like salvation She’s got a baby at her breast She knows big girls are best
Mama mama mama Sexy mama mama mama Sexy mama mama mama
You heard it — she’s a sexy mama. And she “keeps it all together.”
Yes, gentlemen, that right there is called adoration and validation, and set to a Beatle-esque melody that forces you to hum along, it makes for a pretty life-affirming (though admittedly lighthearted) song. And at the bridge it only gets better.
Bono lowers his voice to his greatest come-hither, seductive growl and proclaims all of the desirable qualities in a real woman as he renounces the opposite.
She’s elliptical, also political Also spiritual, not superficial Yeah, she’s tropical, yes, she’s illogical Those little girls are a pest Big girls are the best
I often play this song very loudly with the windows rolled down on a sunny day. I feel like I’m spreading the gospel of natural beauty; sharing the anthem of average-weight women everywhere. Encouraging the tortured waifs to switch to 2 percent lattes.
It’s one of those songs that demand you listen to it three or four times in a row, because you just can’t stop once you’ve started. I mean, it really doesn’t get enough credit.
Have you ever stopped to think how awesome this song would be live at an arena-packed U2 show? What kind of dancing Bono would do as he purrs like a kitten during the “sexy mama” refrain? I sure have. And it definitely would make my dream setlist.
I recommend this tune not just for the men to nod their heads in violent agreement; I urge the ladies to give it a spin in front of the mirror and challenge them not to feel better about their bodies after listening, no matter what their shape or size.
“Big Girls Are Best” is danceable, also magical — it’s out-of-this-world galactical.
This work was commissioned for the site atu2, which was online from 1995 – 2020 and it still protected under a shared copyright.
The Beatles had their yeah, yeah, yeahs; Nirvana, Kurt Cobain’s guttural screams. But U2? They’ve got something none of the others can replicate: the Bono Howl.
The signature Bono Howl is composed of pain, agony, distress, arousal and unabashed joy. What’s so magical about it is that it can start with any one of the emotions just listed, and then morph into the others by the end. Or not.
There are no rules about the length or placement of the Bono Howl, and not every U2 song is blessed with one of these explosions of emotion. In fact, they’re somewhat rare, and like most elements of U2’s music, are better experienced live.
My list below is the Top 5 occasions of the Howl that I feel significantly change the landscape of the song and showcase Bono’s brilliant voice. Sing it with me!
5. Fast Cars (0:00)
Right out of the gate this one is great – Bono’s howl here is a mix of fear and warning that melds seamlessly right into pleasure. You know from the get-go that you’re in for an emotionally charged thrill ride, and the howl is what sets the tone for the entire song. I was lucky enough to see this tune live in Madison Square Garden back in 2005 and it felt like the entire arena full of people erupted into a communal tango at the start. The howl at the end (though not as dramatic) gives it a nice, full-circle feel.
4. All I Want Is You (3:27)
This is the only song on the list that features an integrated howl, woven into the words of the song. But it’s so powerful I’d be remiss to omit it from the bunch. The slow burn of this one, when let’s face it, Bono’s voice was in his absolute prime, only causes the tension to build. The passion behind the story he’s telling — of a complicated love that can’t be realized — commences with a powerful crescendo of a howl, perfectly placed within the word “you.” It’s repeated until The Edge’s guitar seamlessly carries the note to the climax of the song and brings it back down for a peaceful end, as the violins take over. Absolute sonic genius.
3. Electrical Storm (William Orbit Mix) (3:16)
Again, part of the build to the howl is the quiet way in which this song begins. Our hero talks of his love being in his mind “all of the time” and by the time he talks of the rain “washing away” their bad luck, he’s had all that he can take. He erupts into the howl with fierce abandon and then pleads his case for their love to return. It’s easily the greatest point of the song and almost allows us to forget the cheesy lyrics that happen right before it appears.
2. Fez Being Born (1:36)
Before the 360 tour began, I had fantasies of the band opening each show with this song. I thought it was perfect — they could extend the dreamy introduction to give all four men time to reach the stage, then Bono could let out an epic wail as he rose from underground. Four, short, perfect wails, to be exact. I got goose bumps just thinking about it. Too bad it never came true, but I still have hope for future tours (especially since one of the songs they did open with was a couple decades old). Plus, it makes a fantastic alarm clock song.
1. With Or Without You (3:03)
This song is such a staple of pop culture your memories of it may be triggered by various appearances in the past: a penultimate episode of the sitcom Friends; a hilarious bit in the sitcom The Office (American version); a key portion of the plot in the French thriller Tell No One … the list goes on. However you remember the song, my guess is that the Bono Howl is undoubtedly the highlight. Broken into three parts, the glory of this soul-bearing sound illustrates every word that he’s spoken throughout the song. His hands are tied. He’s waited on a bed of nails. His body is bruised. Bono himself described the howl in U2 By U2, though he called it an “Aah-aah,” saying it was the release of the tension and “That is what giving yourself away is, musically.” Indeed.
This work was commissioned for the site atu2, which was online from 1995 – 2020 and it still protected under a shared copyright.
Today The Man On The Train releases in the U.S. via On Demand, iTunes, Amazon Watch Instantly, and Vudu. This remake of the original French film stars legendary actor Donald Sutherland opposite U2 drummer Larry Mullen, Jr. making his acting debut in the leading role.
The director, Mary McGuckian, recently shared insight into the making of the film with me. What follows is our interview.
TK: The original Man On The Train (2002), directed by Patrice Leconte, is very critically acclaimed. I read that you aim in your productions to make contemporary works more compelling to modern audiences. The original of this film isn’t that old of course, but the way it was shot makes it feel almost like a classic. Did that factor into your decision to choose this specific film to remake?
MM: The contemporary classic style of the original was more a factor that influenced the production choices for the picture’s remake rather than a factor which influenced the decision to remake it in the first place.
Patrice LeConte’s original is justifiably considered a contemporary classic for good reason. Something I came to appreciate all the more during the detailed analysis that was an inevitable part of adapting it for an Anglo-American audience. No matter how hard I hit it against the wall, the core of the film always sprang back full of bounce. So well designed as to be indestructible.
In the original film, the man often referred to as France’s version of Elvis, Johnny Hallyday, plays the role of the bank robber (The Thief) that Larry plays in your version. Did you deliberately want a rock star for the role?
I’ve heard Larry referred to as the ‘James Dean’ of the band. That’s good enough for me.
Are there any vast differences in the role of The Thief from the original to the present version, other than calling him The Man vs. The Thief?
The film is an adaptation to Anglo-American culture as well as the English language. True to the spirit of the original, I hope, but transposed rather than simply translated. The role was rewritten in collaboration with Larry as it was intended from the outset that he would play it. Generally, I try to write the dialogue/rhythm and voice of a character with a specific actor in mind and so the narrative structure of the adaptation may seem very similar to the original, the character is a different man from a different place, created by Larry from the script on which he made some excellent comments through various rewrites. For my money, he’s taken the original character on a subtle but significant journey.
U2 fans have heard for years that Larry Mullen Jr. was interested in acting. We were encouraged by his starring role in the band’s “Electrical Storm” video back in 2002, but had no idea he would be acting in a feature film. How did you choose him for this role? Did you always have him in mind or did he audition traditionally as everyone else did?
Ah… In hindsight, I think the actor chose the director in this case, rather than the other way round.
The project emerged as a result of a conversation about the potential pitfalls for rockstars who have a yen to exercise the acting bug. L’Homme du Train (the original French title) came up in that conversation as an example of a rock-star-turned-movie-actor success story. It wasn’t until after shooting that I discovered from the original producer, Phillippe Carcassonne, that Patrice LeConte had actually conceived the film at Johnny Halliday’s request.
Prior to that, the film had struck me as extremely well cast. Both Jean Rochefort and Johnny Halliday received many awards for their work internationally. Factors which contributed to Halliday’s success in that role were construed as a combination of his being cast in a role that was well suited to him, enhanced inevitably by his finding himself playing opposite arguably one of France’s most renowned actors in an essentially two-hander heist movie, with all the benefits of comfort-zone that a controlled boutique-style production imply.
Larry responded to the possibility of ‘trying out the acting idea’ with all of the same advantages. A suggestion was that he find a project like L’Homme du Train for all the same reasons. I wasn’t quite expecting the response I got some months later when he had had a chance to view it. Which was, rather than “Yes,” something along those lines might be an interesting first movie, it was more along the lines of “Why don’t we have a go at doing this?”
And so the journey began…
The film was shot on location in Ontario, Canada. Why was this location chosen as opposed to the original French setting?
To add to the above, the adaptation also travelled the film across the Atlantic. In the original, the setting was a fictitious town somewhere in the middle of France. We shifted the setting to a non-specific eastern-seaboard North American (as it happens, Canadian) town.
A combination of production exigencies and the desire to find a location that was geographically authentic to the needs of the story brought us to Orangeville in Northern Ontario.
Tell me how well Larry and his main co-star, American actor Donald Sutherland, worked together during the shoot. Did they know each other before filming?
They met, as actors often do, just before shooting. An unlikely pairing in a film about an unlikely relationship. Donald Sutherland is undoubtedly one of the great ‘monstres sacre’ of contemporary cinema, so his involvement was as daunting as it was an exciting prospect to all of us. As you would expect, his generosity of spirit and his no?holds barred investment of a wealth of experience, expertise and extraordinary intellectual and emotional energy blew us all away.
As courageous as it was for Larry to take on a principle role on his first outing, it was a privilege to witness Donald give everything to the part and the project never once remarking that well … Larry had never done this before.
And you would never have known, as from the very first shot, he was so in character and filming so well, that we all simply forgot.
We can assume from his years of touring and making videos that Larry is well-versed in the process of being on camera, but what was he like as a first-time lead actor? Did he offer suggestions about his character or the script along the way?
Absolutely, Larry has amazing instincts on camera. He has that indescribable thing movie stars have. A quality on camera that can neither be learned, analyzed nor taught. You’ve either got it or you don’t.
I imagine it’s a somewhat nail-biting experience to cast a rock star in your film who is currently on a major international tour. Did Larry’s commitments to U2 ever interfere with the production?
All of our concern was to ensure that the production would never interfere with his U2 commitments. I hope and believe we pulled that off.
How long was the shoot?
Unbelievably short, given Larry’s day-job commitments.
Who composed the film’s music? Was there ever any discussion of U2 contributing music for the soundtrack?
Larry composed the main theme with Simon Climie, variations on which form the bed-rock of the score. And they are still working with it — once it’s finished, you will most likely be able to find it on iTunes.
Indulge us: are there any funny stories or anecdotes you’d like to share from the filming of the movie?
That would be telling!
I noticed that Larry’s longtime partner, Ann Acheson, is an associate producer for The Man On The Train. Tell us about her connection to the film.
Associate Producer is a poorly defined role as it can refer to very little (such as somebody-in-some-way-connected-with-somebody-who-had-something-to-do-with-some-aspect-of-producing-the-film who wanted a credit) through anything in between to a great deal, (i.e. somebody indispensable).
Ann falls into the latter category.
[She was] fully integrated into every aspect of the production from the very first suggestion of investigating the feasibility of it, remake rights options, script adaptations, meetings with actors, all the details of budgeting and financing options and issues, through practical production scheduling including managing Larry’s quite detailed preparation program, script editing and script management. I’ve never seen such a master of colour-coded script scheduling!
We shot the film in record time and still didn’t go over time on a single shooting day as Ann managed the scheduling of all Larry’s other commitments in and around preparation, rehearsals and shooting. On set, it turned out that she was a wizard with the continuity team and knew exactly what the edit notes should be for every take. So much so that after a few days I gave up rushing back to continuity between shots to give the notes as I could tell from the look on Ann’s face whether we had the shot or not. The entire cast and camera crew took to looking back to her at the end of every take as she stood focused in her earphones on the monitor to see whether we got the little nod.
Both Larry and Ann as producers continue to be involved in all aspects of the picture’s completion, delivery and distribution.
As an observant fan, I get the impression that Larry sometimes has the “final say” in U2 matters. Do you think it was hard for him to not be the ‘person in charge’ as you filmed?
The relationship between an actor and director for me is essentially collaborative. Every aspect of this production was pretty collaborative. Perhaps the director’s hat does get the last say with the actor … but then Larry did have a producer’s hat as well!
Although early reviews of Larry’s acting are glowing, do you think because he’s a rock star he will have a harder time proving himself to critics as an actor if he continues down this path?
It is an act of courage for any actor, every time they expose themselves in a role on camera, and always impossible to legislate for press reaction. What matters is that he wanted to do it, he did it and it’s done. Films, like running water, find their level.
Tell us about the film’s release (both in North America and abroad).
The film was made for a North America/English speaking audience. It will be released in the US by Tribeca beginning Oct. 28 On Demand via Cable VOD on all major cable providers, iTunes, Amazon, Watch Instantly, and Vudu. Thereafter, Alliance Atlantis will release it in Canada.
I’m not sure the French, though, will want a remake of a classic by one of their most revered directors served back to them in cold English!
Other international territory dates are still pending.
What’s next on your list of projects?
Right now I’m in finishing mode on a film called The Novelist with Eric Roberts in the title role, and about to start another French based project, The Price of Desire, about Eileen Gray, the famous Irish architect/furniture designer and Le Corbusier.
Do you think Larry will continue acting? If so, would you like to work with him again?
I hope so. And … I very much hope so.
(c) @U2/Kokkoris, 2011.
Photo credit: Sophie Girau. Courtesy of Tribeca Film.
This work was commissioned for the site atu2, which was online from 1995 – 2020 and it still protected under a shared copyright.
The 2002 film, Man On The Train, by acclaimed French director Patrick Leconte, is re-imagined in a new remake, The Man On The Train, directed by Mary McGuckian, starring Donald Sutherland and Larry Mullen Jr.
Sutherland plays The Professor, a retired literature buff who lives out a lonely retirement in a lavish, hollow mansion. Mullen takes on the role of The Man, a quiet, focused criminal who spends his life not becoming too attached to anything. After the two meet-cute in a small-town pharmacy, The Man seeks temporary shelter at The Professor’s home while he prepares for his next heist.
The Professor, starved for conversation and companionship, attempts to befriend the elusive visitor, while The Man studies The Professor like a textbook. This makes for some very lengthy unintentional monologues by Sutherland, who injects the role with an impressive enthusiasm. Mullen is stoic, yet smart, as his primary listener.
What emerges is a more tender result than that of the original film — in fact, Sutherland and Mullen have such a familiar spark that they form somewhat of an indie-film odd couple. Each knows his place in the world but longs to live in the other’s shoes, if only for a moment. It’s a friendship by thoughtful default.
The film, shot on location in Canada, features gorgeous cinematography, which echoes that of the original French backdrop. The town is quaint; the landscape lush, and an overall air of “good” permeates the vibe. There is almost a sense of sadness in knowing that soon the townspeople’s only bank will be robbed.
Many U2 fans will notice the similarities in Mullen and the character he portrays. He’s a man of few words, he’s tough, he’s strong, he’s handsome and always in control. To say that he’s well-cast would be putting it mildly. Sure, he’s “playing to type” in one respect, but there are also many dimensions of The Man he brings to life that have nothing to do with rock star behaviors.
The Man, perhaps in spite of himself, develops a compassion for his host as he gets to know him. This causes him to reveal more of his life than one would suspect he normally does. In one particularly tense scene in a diner, The Man appears to hold his breath along with the audience as The Professor tries to diffuse a rowdy situation. He’s rattled … and impressed.
Mullen conveys all of these emotions and intentions primarily through his facial expressions and body language. He also somehow manages to get the audience to sympathize with his character, though for all intents and purposes, he’s playing the villain.
The film’s slow pace won’t be for everyone; it’s more artistic than action-packed, but for those who have the patience to see it through, they’ll be rewarded with a thought-provoking and satisfying end.
Hopefully, this is just the beginning of a beautiful extracurricular career for thespian Mullen.
(c) @U2/Kokkoris, 2011.
Photo credit: Sophie Girau. Courtesy of Tribeca Film.
This work was commissioned for the site atu2, which was online from 1995 – 2020 and it still protected under a shared copyright.
Many ring in the new year by making resolutions to improve their lives, whether it means getting a better job or quitting a nasty habit. One of the most popular goals is to get in shape, so I thought it might be fun for this first U2 List of 2011 to feature songs that promote such an endeavor.
Though some believe U2 music wouldn’t be conducive to a great workout, I actually find many of their songs making their way to my iPod en route to the gym. What’s great is their versatility — you can vary your routine by simply shuffling your playlist and maximize the types of exercise you get.
10. “Wire”Recommended Exercise: Stair Stepper
This song is a powerful one for those in need of a cardio fix. The beat never slows, and lyrics like such a nice day to throw your life away are a perfect catalyst for releasing aggression.
9. “Lemon” Recommended Exercise: Weightlifting
Although this song would be welcome at any dance club or discotheque, it’s also especially useful when lifting weights. It’s rhythmic enough to promote endurance, yet slow enough that you won’t hurt yourself.
8. “Numb” Recommended Exercise: Yoga
For those who take the zen approach to fitness, I recommend the calm chants of The Edge in this repetitive mantra that may otherwise drive you nuts. The perpetual chatter allows for ease when holding poses and the sensory overload of lyrics doesn’t promote any sing-along distractions.
7. “Fast Cars” Recommended Exercise: The Tango
When I first heard this song, I immediately pictured a couple dancing the tango. A vibrant woman in a flirty, red dress; a sexy man in a crisp, dark suit — joined together in close embrace as they took small steps in time with the music. Grab a partner and try it: Aside from the calories you’ll burn, you may just enjoy some romance.
6. “Mofo” Recommended Exercise: Boxing
Though I’ll admit that this song doesn’t rank among my U2 favorites, there is no denying that the wicked mix of rock and techno promotes spontaneous movement. When Bono performed this song live, he sometimes took the stance of a boxer, which makes a perfect fitness fit.
5. “Elevation” Recommended Exercise: Trampoline
Prior to a U2 tour, I spend many days getting in shape for what is inevitably the most wonderfully exhausting part of the show: pogo-ing during this song. Jumping up and down in time with Bono’s commands works muscles throughout your legs, and the best way I know to prepare for that is to spend some time on the trampoline … elevating. You won’t want to stop once you start.
4. “Walk On” Recommended Exercise: Walking
No matter what your fitness level or goals, we can all benefit from a good walk from time to time. The inspirational energy of this song, written about Burmese leader Aung San Suu Kyi, will only fuel your fire to blaze the path ahead.
The sound of the “Vertigo” guitar riff will always remind me of the iPod commercial that launched this song into our collective consciousness. The band, outlined in black in front of bright, colorful backgrounds with dancing silhouettes, made me want to jump out of my skin. Now, I use those images, and that killer riff, to hit my stride on the elliptical machine. A great balance of resistance and persistence as the song builds to the chorus.
Really, is there any other way to groove to this song? Thinking back to the days of Zoo TV, picturing Morleigh Steinberg shimmying her way across the stage, it’s hard not to bare your belly when the first notes of this tune begin. You should submit to the urge — your abs will thank you later.
1. “Get On Your Boots” Recommended Exercise: Running
Whether jogging on a treadmill or running along a trail in the woods, the momentum that this song builds is like a shot of pure adrenaline. The speed of the beat and Bono’s rapid singing provide the perfect storm of stamina for pressing on. Get on your boots, and get moving!
This work was commissioned for the site atu2, which was online from 1995 – 2020 and it still protected under a shared copyright.
The first time I heard the song live, it was a lullaby. Really, it was.
If I’d had a baby to put to sleep that night, the calming coos of Bono’s velvety voice and the quiet strumming of The Edge’s guitar would have done the trick. It made no difference that I was in the Tacoma Dome surrounded by thousands of other people. It was that peaceful.
When I first heard All That You Can’t Leave Behind in the fall of the prior year, “In A Little While” was my only star. The album was a good, solid album, but this song was the only one that captured my heart in a love-at-first-listen sort of way.
The Tacoma show was the first Elevation show I attended, and the way the crowd silenced for this rendition of the song was amazing. Bono’s words sounded much softer than the raspy studio version as he danced sweetly with one of Edge’s daughters. The lights were down and the spotlight was following them. When it ended, the hypnotic vibe hung in the air like a tangible guest.
The sound was so beautiful it stayed with me long after I left the venue. When I got home that night from a stressful drive back to Seattle, I put All That You Can’t Leave Behind in my stereo and programmed it to play only this song. And then I set it to repeat.
A few weeks later, in full U2-obsession mode, I had my solo trip to Ireland booked (I just had to see them at Slane) and was getting all of my ducks in a row before leaving the country. The bad news was, my wisdom teeth needed to come out, and they needed to be removed before my trip. I had three months to accomplish this, but I procrastinated the surgery as long as I could. In July, my sweet mother came up from Oregon to provide round-the-clock care for her 25-year-old baby during the process.
It was bad from the get-go. I am terribly squeamish and high maintenance when it comes to anything medical. I can’t watch doctor shows on TV or look at friends who have recently had casts or bandages removed. And when it’s about me, I’m a hundred times more pathetic.
The morning of the surgery was a nightmare — I was sleep deprived, scared and shaky. The surgeon’s attempts to get a needle in my arm for the IV were borderline comical. I was jumping around, breaking into cold sweats, crying — you name it, I was guilty of it. After nearly fainting, they decided it wasn’t going to happen without the aid of some medicine (read: Valium). And after that, they probably could’ve asked me to do it myself and I would’ve obliged. The doctor asked me how many days I had left until the U2 concert, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up with chipmunk cheeks and small metal snaps across my chest.
My mom and I returned to my apartment where I looked forward to settling in to all of the perks I’d been promised the surgery would provide: endless milkshakes, fantastic narcotics and rapid weight loss.
But those were all lies.
What I actually endured were multiple cartons of butterscotch pudding, which tasted as if they’d been seasoned with dried blood; drugs that not only made me nauseous, but caused my body temperature to rise (and keep in mind, it was summertime); and a few extra pounds, courtesy of said pudding, coupled with the fact I seldom got out of bed.
In the midst of my misery, my mother did her absolute best to make me comfortable. She was there fluffing pillows, preparing ice packs and responding to my every demand. I was grateful to have her there, but that didn’t stop me from behaving like a 5-year-old.
On day three I was especially whiny, as my body was acclimating to the pills, and the soreness in my mouth reached its most painful levels. I just laid there and whimpered as if there were no hope for relief. She said “What can I do to make you feel better?” I responded, “Put All That You Can’t Leave Behind in and fast-forward to number six.” She dutifully complied and I tried to keep the tears to a minimum so we could both hear the song. I was still in pain, but I could swear it had lessened as Bono crooned.
I slowly drifted off to sleep, and when I woke up, the pain had returned. I begged for the ice pack, and Mom was right there to deliver it, telling me that everything would soon be all right. She asked if I’d like the music back on, and I said yes. As the CD spun “In a Little While” again, she told me that I should visualize tomorrow, because the pain wouldn’t be nearly as bad then. I shot her a questioning glance, and she reiterated that in the most painful times of her life — physically or emotionally — she’s put herself in the frame of mind that the next day it wouldn’t hurt as bad, and that has helped her through. I promised I’d try and concentrated with all my might on the next day. I pictured myself getting out of bed, dressing in something other than pajamas, taking a walk in the fresh air. It was working.
The next morning I did feel better — and I did all the things I’d envisioned. The day after that, I was well enough to return to work and mom was free to return home, relieved of her nursing gig.
In the months that followed, I was injured at a concert, my grandmother passed away, 9/11 happened, and the office I worked in underwent a huge restructure, which left me employed, but many of my friends without a job. “In a Little While” became more like a mantra than just another U2 song I loved. By then I knew it was written about a hangover, and that it was the last song Joey Ramone listened to before he passed away, but that didn’t change its meaning for me.
To this day, “In a Little While” lowers my blood pressure and sets my mind at ease no matter what situation I’m in, but most importantly it serves as a reminder of my mother’s wise advice: when things get bad, just focus on tomorrow.
This work was commissioned for the site atu2, which was online from 1995 – 2020 and it still protected under a shared copyright.
I knew I should have just waited five more minutes, but I had to start getting ready for work. I’d already lathered shampoo into my hair when the sound of the William Orbit bells got me. A rational person would have thought, “Oh well, I’ll catch it next time.” But I was past rational. I’d been waiting to catch the new “Electrical Storm” video for days.
I quickly turned the water off and leaped out of the tub, grabbing my towel and throwing it around myself as I ran into the living room.
Standing on my carpet shivering, my first glimpse was of Larry carrying a mermaid out of the sea. Oh, how I longed to be that mermaid.
The footage was grainy and black-and-white-mysterious, which only magnified the hazy romance that was playing out before my eyes. I was instantly hypnotized by the images.
The band was telling a story. They were being artistic. They were showing Larry wet, with his shirt half off.
Forgetting that I was as waterlogged as Mr. Mullen (although shampoo suds now stung the corners of my eyes), I staggered over to my couch and sat down to watch, too stunned to speak. I was seeing my long-time crush alternately writhing around in a bathtub and playing his drums while my new favorite song played in the background.
The year 2002 was shaping up to be a good one.
In the weeks and months that followed, I became obsessed with the song and subsequent video, imagining myself in the Samantha Morton role, hoping there could somehow be a sequel.
I did all of the things that the certifiably insane would do: I watched the video every night and studied it frame-by-frame. I fashioned my Halloween costume after Samantha’s mermaid ensemble. I made the “Bono yell” from the song my permanent outgoing voicemail message.
When my sister called in hysterics over Answer Guy’s latest column, which joked he had seen the video 237 times, I nervously laughed, as the math in my head told me I surely had seen it that many times.
I preached to co-workers, family members and non-U2-fan friends about its greatness. I made desktop wallpaper out of a screenshot from the video—I was unstoppable.
Just when I thought my psyche was really in trouble, a Web site called Meetup.com appeared and I began attending U2 Meetup gatherings with other local fans. It turns out I wasn’t crazy at all; just “passionate” or “dedicated” or “committed” to the Best Band in the World. No concerned looks at that table—only support and encouragement for my addiction.
I had met my enablers.
And somehow, in the midst of the bonding, I had formulated a goal for myself: to work for the band on their next tour. I even had the perfect position in mind: Tour Mermaid.
I figured since “Mysterious Ways” was old news and Morleigh Steinberg was out of commission as a belly dancer, a tour mermaid would fill a necessary void. Plus, U2 would undoubtedly play the song live, since it practically begged for a storm-inspired light show. It was a win-win all around.
But as everyone knows, U2 are seldom hiring. Unless you are related to the Edge or sat next to Bono in math class or bottle-fed Larry, you probably don’t have a hope in hell of infiltrating the camp.
Armed with this knowledge, I figured I’d just have to be creative—make myself known somehow, then make myself irresistible. I’d become a freelance Principle.
An opportunity arose when I learned that @U2 and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum were co-hosting a U2 Fan Celebration in the summer of 2003. I’d been to the museum to see the U2 exhibit earlier in the year, but decided to return for this special event, which was to feature (among other things) a fan confessional.
Basically, they were reviving the booth from the Zoo TV tour and giving each of us three minutes to record our “confession” to the band. I figured this was meant to be—my portal to communicate with the immortal four.
So I bought a new dress, traveled with a friend to Cleveland and rehearsed what I was going to say as if I were auditioning for a Broadway play. I even made index cards with detailed reminders: who I was, where I was from, how long I’d been a fan, why I was the number one candidate for their yet-to-be-created Tour Mermaid job.
The day of the confessional, I watched Family Ties re-runs in the hotel as I nervously got ready for my big moment. A new Venus razor, sparkling red jewelry and jumbo-size hot rollers were involved.
When I arrived at the museum, my friend and I headed over to the booth for our big moment. I was third in line. Three being my favorite number, I took this as a good sign.
Tension mounted as we chatted with other fans. Some had prepared nothing, others brought in various props to add to their performance.
I felt strangely normal compared to many of my fellow fans, despite the fact I was going to sell myself as an ideal fictional character for a tour that had yet to be invented.
I listened outside the booth as the first girl in line and my friend both had their turns. They nailed it. Both emerged flushed and excited, happy that it was over but glad they’d done it.
Now it was my turn.
I went behind the makeshift curtain and met the cameraman, who politely told me where to stand and reminded me of the three-minute limit. I smiled sweetly and told him to begin filming at any time.
He gave me the “action” signal, the red light went on, and I immediately became a babbling idiot.
Remember that episode of The Brady Bunch, where Cindy appears on a game show, then develops a dose of stage fright the instant the camera starts rolling? That was me.
Instead of referring to my bullet-pointed index card, I became immediately self-conscious about how over-dressed I was, and fidgeted with my hair and necklace. I forgot the clever narrative I’d scripted to justify why the band needed a traveling mermaid. I couldn’t remember what qualifications of mine I was supposed to highlight. What should have sounded breezy sounded shaky; what was once funny only echoed my desperation.
And to top it off, in addition to spitting out my e-mail address, phone number and astrological sign (I’m sure), I mumbled something about wanting to do the band’s laundry. For real.
I think my intent at the time was to demonstrate that I’d be willing to do anything for U2. I’d shine their shoes, walk their dogs, prepare their favorite meals or “swim” around a stage in a costume that boasted fins, because I loved them so much.
But instead, I mentioned that I was good with a washing machine.
And then the (now chuckling) cameraman yelled “Time!” And it was over. I blew it. My one chance at stardom crushed by a random act of stage fright.
I exited the booth, head hanging in shame, and told my friend of my failures. I can remember her disbelief, as I’m probably the least shy person she’s ever known.
It didn’t make sense to me either. I love being in front of people. I was captain of the dance team in high school. I sang in front of thousands in college choir. Not once have I ever clammed up.
But something that day got me and I never got over it. I worried for months that if the band really did watch my confession, I’d be banned from all future possible “fan moments” like dancing with Bono during a show. I gave myself headaches imagining their conversations:
Bono: “How about that girl a few rows back for ‘With or Without You’ — the Greek-looking one holding the ONE Campaign sign?”
Larry: “Have ya’ lost yer mind? That’s the lady that wants to bleach our whites!”
And so forth.
To console myself, a year later I made a pilgrimage to the French Riviera where the “Electrical Storm” video was filmed. I visited the same train station where Samantha took her opening run. I wore a silver two-piece swimsuit and had my friend photograph me triumphantly standing in the same stretch of water that the mermaid emerged from.
This work was commissioned for the site atu2, which was online from 1995 – 2020 and it still protected under a shared copyright.
“There’s been a lot of talk about this next song — maybe too much talk.”
-Bono, 1983
In 1983, I was a 7-year-old whose days primarily consisted of eating, sleeping and MTV. Back then, MTV wasn’t just a channel, it was a way of life. Alarms were set to wake up with Martha Quinn, meals were rearranged to accommodate especially good rock blocks, and on at least one occasion, school was missed to watch a World Premiere Video.
Music was shifting from being a completely audio experience to a necessary visual experience, and witnessing the transformation was nothing short of thrilling. Instead of bands just having to sound good, they had to look good — or at the very least, have a compelling image. And that’s where U2 won me over.
I already knew (and was fond of) “Gloria,” but when the home-video-like concert clip of “Sunday Bloody Sunday” was thrust into heavy rotation on MTV, it altered my musical life. The instant I’d see the profile of Bono grace the screen, with the ’80s flames superimposed over his face, I was immediately marching in time to the drumbeat, scrambling to find anything I could to create a makeshift white flag to wave along with him (pencils and Kleenex were usually my default).
To me, the burning torches defying the rain, Larry squinting through the fog, and Bono wearing one of his band’s own shirts defined the epitome of rock and roll. I imagined myself in the water-drenched crowd — miserable, exhausted and exhilarated. I just wanted to be a part of it. But of course, I was too young for shows on the War tour. And also too young to understand why the song was really so powerful.
In 1988, as a 12-year-old, I saw Rattle and Hum in the theater. The most passionate moment of the movie came during the band’s rendition of “Sunday Bloody Sunday.” On the day the clip was recorded, Enniskillen, Northern Ireland, suffered a brutal IRA attack at a Remembrance Day gathering. Eleven people were killed and 63 were left wounded. Bono was filled with rage and turned the performance of this song into an angry political rant. I felt uncomfortable watching it, yet had tears in my eyes by the time he knelt in peace at the end. As a junior-high student in Oregon, I still had no idea what the song was even about, but after seeing that, I needed to know.
Since the Internet was not yet part of daily life, I made a trip to the library and looked up things like “Irish troubles,” “IRA terrorists” and “Bloody Sunday.” What I found was devastating — the first incident in November of 1920, and then the second in January of 1972. Innocent people dying over philosophical disagreements; history repeating itself long after lessons should have been learned. This newfound knowledge only intensified my love for the song, which grew as I did.
The song stayed with me through college, when it turned into a ballad on the B-side of “If God Will Send His Angels.” That version was quiet and calm, internalizing its pain unlike its predecessor, which was more like an open wound.
By the time the Elevation tour arrived, my U2 obsession was back in full force. I had attended the Tacoma show and entered a local radio station contest for tickets to the first of the soon-to-be historical Slane Castle concerts. I didn’t win. But I couldn’t stand it — I needed to see my boys in their natural habitat once and for all. And since none of my friends at the time were as U2-rabid as me, I had to go alone.
I booked an ETS package a few days later and before I knew it, found myself on a plane to Dublin. I made friends on the tour bus and at the hotel where we stayed, but unfortunately got separated from them on the morning of the show. Alone on the castle grounds, I prayed my way to a wristband and ended up on Edge’s side of the heart. In the sea of faces, I recognized no one, though we all had something fundamental in common.
The energy of the show was everything I thought it would be and more, but “Sunday Bloody Sunday” was in a class by itself. As Larry’s drums brought the song in after an energetic “I Will Follow,” the entire mood of the crowd changed. A breeze blew by, voices were lowered, and I’ll swear it even got darker outside. I went from being a groupie at a rock concert to being a family member at a national wake. The spirit of the song, coupled with the ancient territory we were standing on, multiplied by the fact Bono had just buried his father a day earlier, made for a primal feeling I’ll probably never experience again. This song was their history, their past — their pain. And now we were all a part of it.
By the time the refrain arrived, the crowd was so riled up that drunken groups were shoving each other (and everyone in their way) into the railing. The security teams were doing everything in their power to keep us safe, but in a field of 80,000, it’s a little difficult to maintain control. As Bono cried, “Wipe your tears away,” a surge of people came crashing into the barricade and my then-petite frame couldn’t sustain it. I first heard a crack, then blacked out, then came to only to see a security guard reaching over to pluck me out of the crowd. I resisted and screamed “No! Don’t take me out!” He just shook his head and muttered to his colleague “Bloody Americans.”
I spent the remainder of the show trying to take a deep breath (impossible), feeling for my driver’s license (so I could be identified) and bracing myself against the railing for further attempts on my life. Never before did I actually think I might die at a rock concert.
After the show, the on-site medical personnel concluded that I had indeed cracked a rib. They taped me up with whatever materials they had in their tent and sent me on my way with sympathetic glances.
By the time I made it off the field, my tour bus had left and I had to walk the dark countryside for over an hour in search of a ride. Bono wailing “Tonight we can be as one/Tonight, tonight,” echoed in my head as I realized I was too tired to panic.
Thankfully, a tour group that got a late start took pity on me and offered me a seat on their bus, which was also headed back to Dublin.
The next morning I concealed my new battle scar with a full-coverage blouse, as I didn’t want any of my new friends to know about it. When we all hiked up to the gates of Bono’s house later that day, we discussed what our favorite parts of the show were. “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” despite my injury, still made my list.
The Vertigo tour was different for me. By then, I was blessed to travel and attend shows with a network of U2 friends and family. “Sunday Bloody Sunday” made its way into the setlist each night, this time usually sandwiched between “Love and Peace or Else” and “Bullet the Blue Sky,” and I liked it every time. But it wasn’t until the final show I attended, in my hometown of Portland, that the hairs on the back of my neck stood up because of it.
Bono had just finished drumming in his Coexist headband, and the boys were scattered around the stage. Larry’s drumbeat started, and as I scanned the room, trying to decide where to look, every face I saw was familiar. At the front were girls that sometimes got to dance with Bono on stage; to my right were fans I’d met the night before at our @U2 10th Birthday Bash; to my left were pals I’d made from working on the site, and I knew if I were to faint at that very moment, I’d fall into the arms of a friend. Tears involuntarily formed in my eyes as it all finally hit me. That night, the raw anthem became a love song — to and from all of the people I’d met as a result of first hearing it.
This work was commissioned for the site atu2, which was online from 1995 – 2020 and it still protected under a shared copyright.
If U2 put you on the cover of one of their albums, wouldn’t you be sure to own several copies? Perhaps a few in each format (vinyl, cassette, CD)? Believe it or not, the only non-band-member to ever appear on a U2 album cover, Peter Rowen, doesn’t own either U2 album that bears his likeness.
I’ve always wondered what became of the boy who appeared on the Boy and War covers because his image has always captivated me.
Throughout the history of rock and roll, photos have played a crucial role in representing and even defining the work of its artists. From Jim Morrison’s shirtless pose in the sign of a cross to the jeans-wearing Bruce Springsteen on his Born in the U.S.A. album, a well-crafted image can instantly transport us to the place where the music itself takes us.
U2 are no exception to this — in fact, they’ve probably produced one of the most consistently impressive collections of images of any rock band in existence. The four young band members standing in front of the joshua tree, The Fly and MacPhisto wreaking havoc on the Zoo TV tour, Bono in a bubble bath — the list goes on. But for me, the most prominent U2-related image has always been one that didn’t feature any of the band members. It’s the album cover for War and it still gets to me to this day. The stark contrast of the red lettering juxtaposed with the timeless black and white photo of an angry child says so much, by simply saying so little. It’s haunting, yet innocent. And I hear “Sunday Bloody Sunday” in my head every time I glance at it.
I knew that Peter Rowen, the model for those covers, was the younger brother of Bono’s friend Guggi. I also remembered that he did some acting in Ireland in the years following his work with U2. What I didn’t know is that he grew up to be a successful photographer. And I found that to be especially interesting. Who would guess the subject of such a famous photo would grow up to be a photographer himself?
I recently caught up with Peter, who is based in Dublin, and he kindly agreed to a session of Q&A, via e-mail.
Q: Did being the subject of internationally famous album covers have anything to do with how you arrived at your present career?
A: No, I don’t think me being on the albums had anything to do with me ending up in photography. I think it was more to do with my interest in drawing/painting as a kid. I used to spend a lot of my spare time growing up making images of one kind or another and then one day a friend introduced me to photography and I instantly fell in love with it.
Q: When you were younger, what did you want to be when you grew up?
A: A tractor.
Q: Did having an older brother who was an artist (with an eccentric group of friends) influence you creatively?
A: I wouldn’t say that my brother and his friends have influenced me at all really…there is quite a big age gap, so by the time I was five my older brothers would have all left home.
Q: Do people still recognize you as the “U2 kid”? If so, is that a good thing or an annoyance?
A: No, I don’t think anyone has ever recognized me as U2’s kid! To be honest with you it’s never really caused me any bother, I guess it’s a bit of a laugh!
Q: The story of how you were paid in candy bars (Mars bars specifically, if I’m not mistaken) for the U2 photo shoots is legendary. Do you have any particularly fond or funny memories of working with the band?
A: My memories of working with the band are all but gone…the only things I actually remember are me not liking the soup we were served by the photographer’s wife and Bono nearly crashing into a line of traffic on the way home from the shoot!
Q: During those Boy and War photo shoots, did you try to have any input into the poses or your wardrobe, or were you agreeable to whatever they instructed you to do?
A: There was a full box of Mars bars at stake! I was up for anything!
Q: Did your parents consent to you participating in the U2 photo shoots in advance, or were they so spur-of-the-moment that they were informed later?
A: I’m sure my parents must have consented to it.
Q: To me the War cover symbolizes how children become innocent victims in conflicts created by adults who should know better. What does it mean to you?
A: I never really thought about that one! I’ve always just seen it as a nice picture of me when I was eight years old!
Q: At the time, did you have any idea that U2 would become the superstars that they eventually became?
A: No — I don’t imagine anyone did!
Q: Did you get to keep any of the original prints from your U2 photo shoots?
A: Yea, I’ve got a couple of out takes from the War shoot…
[Ed. note: one outtake from Peter Rowen’s collection is included below]
Q: Which U2 album cover is your personal favorite?
A: I think my favorite cover is probably Boy…
Q: Some of the covers you’re featured on presently fetch considerable amounts of money on auction sites like eBay. Have you ever bid on an item that you appear on?
A: No, never!
Q: Your web site displays an excellent photo you took of Bono during one of the Slane Castle concerts in 2001. Do you photograph the band often? If not, would you like to?
A: Slane 2001 [August 25 show] was the only time I got to shoot the band. Yea, it’d be nice to get an opportunity to shoot them again sometime.
Q: What other (if any) musicians would you like to photograph?
A: Yea, there’s a few I’d love to photograph…Willie Nelson, Stevie Wonder, Bob Dylan….
Q: What (or who) would be your dream subject to photograph?
A: I’d love to photograph Valentino Rossi (seven-time World Champion GP racer) as I’m a huge bike-sport fan and Valentino is the man!
Q: Who inspires you?
A: I’m a big fan of Richard Avedon’s work…I love the fact that most of it is so simple. Funnily enough I also really like Anton Corbjin’s stuff, again he uses a lot of daylight and tends to keep it pretty simple…no gimmicks just great photographs.
Q: Is U2 on your iPod?
A: Yea, of course U2 are on my iPod! I’ve been listening to How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb a lot lately and I love it!
Q: Do you go to their shows? Buy their albums?
A: Yea, I’ve been to a good few of their shows…(went to see them play Barcelona last summer and had a great time!)…and yea I’ve got most of their albums. I think the only albums I don’t have a copy of (strangely enough) are Boy and War!
Q: When you hear U2 songs on the radio, for instance “Two Hearts Beat As One,” does it remind you of being in the video or is it just like hearing any other song?
A: When I hear that particular song yea, I do always think of the video.
Q: What types of music do you listen to? Who are your favorite bands?
A: I love all sorts of music from Chopin to White Stripes to Van Morrison to Kanye West. I’m listening to Magic Numbers lately…I really like their current album.
Q: As a fan of Roddy Doyle’s stories, I remember your appearances in The Commitments and The Snapper. Do you have any other acting projects in the works?
A: No, the acting thing I sort of fell into by accident. Actually, a Swiss film producer spotted me in the U2 “Two Hearts Beat As One” video and came over to Ireland to meet me. He had me in mind for a pretty major role in a film he was working on at the time…as it happened, that film was never made, but as a result of me getting an agent and taking a few acting classes (a few too few I think!) I ended up getting some small parts in a couple of other movies.
Q: Were you ever contacted by U2 to appear on any recent album covers?
A: No.
Q: The band has joked in the past that they should make an album called Man as a sort of bookend to Boy. If this ever comes to fruition, and they asked you to be on the cover, would you do it?
A: Only if they promised to pay me in Mars bars again!
Q: Are you still in touch with the band?
A: Not really, I’d know them all to say hello to but that’s about it…
Q: You display an amazing portfolio of work on your web site. Have you ever considered publishing a book of your photography?
A: No, but I would love to someday!
Q: And hypothetically, if one were to realize their dream of someday getting married in Slane Castle, do you photograph weddings?
A: Yes!
Visit www.peterrowen.com to learn more about Peter Rowen’s photography and view samples of his work.
