tracks on LP: Gloria | I Fall Down | I Threw A Brick Through A Window | Rejoice | Fire | Tomorrow | October | With A Shout (Jerusalem) | Stranger In A Strange Land | Scarlet | Is That All?
Record label: Island ILPS 9680
Released: 12/10/81
Purchased: 28/08/82
When U2 first hit England in the twilight of 1980, a dull cry of relief rose up from rock’s murky depths. U2 were “just what we needed”: a return to Dram-rock (music’s equivalent of melodrama). In the phrase of Island’s press leaflet, “a soaring and emotional rock style that was powerful without being either musclebound or bludgeoning” (whatever those bludgeoning epithets mean). Live, so it was said, U2 swept audiences into rapture and ecstasy.
Since then, a more widespread and various return to “dram-rock” has emerged Whether harking back to the Doors (Bunnymen) or to Bowie at his more amply flushing (Associates), this trend has attempted to underscore certain tenents of the straightest rock tradition and revamp them into pop dreams. The common factor is the implicit anti-dance stance.
Some bands — e.g. The Scars— have foundered amiably. while others — like the Bunnymen — have matured with a vengeance. U2 have done neither: ‘October’ confirms the suspicion that their “intensity” was a simple matter of “density”.
The group has been in the studio all summer with this recording. Perhaps it took them so long because the “intensity” and sheer length of their tours have gone to their heads. The idea behind the rock concert, of course, is to move and excite, and in that context mere volume and exertion can pass for anything. But when it comes to putting this “intensity” on vinyl, the pious, almost hysterical insistence of U2’s music becomes crude and vacuous.
“I know it’s good that we’re not easily digested,” said Bono at the beginning of the year. In truth, nothing could be so quickly assimilated and expelled. ‘Boy’ “cracked” the American charts (again, island’s term) because it’s exactly the sort of exultant, golden rock music Americans (e.g. Bruce Springsteen) really understand. As reactionaries (with the weight of God behind them), U2 slide into place with immaculate logic. But do not forget the hysteria below the surface: “there’s a lot of Johnny Rotten’s bastard children running the streets they’ve been sold into bondage . . . ” (Bono Vox).
U2 | October | (Island) 1981
So what is it that the excessive plaintiveness of Bono’s voice and the forced power of U2’s sound is trying to hide? Consider the adventure of Dram-rock from inside. Let us compare U2’s ‘Gloria‘ with, say, ‘Show Of Strength’ —the openers, respectively, on ‘October’ and ‘Heaven Up Here’. Both are conventionally structured tunes, both are curled and laced In swooping guitars —The Edge’s comes from Alan Rankine of the Associates, Will Sergeant’s from Richard Lloyd — and both are sung in pretentious, over-emotive voices.
The difference is that ‘Gloria’ (and have no fear, it’s not a tribute to Van Morrison) tugs openly, vulgarly at your emotions, thundering down from the nave of the cathedral of sound like trumpet-blasts at the gates of heaven: Gloria In excelsis Inside this wholesome blast of pretty noise (which, faded both in and out, gives itself airs of the absolute) there is no tension or drama of sound itself.
Everything reaches out, asserts, grasps at nothing. At the end of each single sound likes a vacuum; there is no turning back into the structure. In the drive towards over greater emotion, this flagrant emulation of the Associates rings with all the blind need of religious devotion.
‘Show Of Strength‘, on the other hand — learning its lesson from the first adequate reformulation of the rock structure, Television’s ‘See No Evil’, (another “strong” opener) — turns and grows on itself, consciously structuring its components as it moves, floating them round the unspoken theme of the “rock song” and working them into a new intelligence. In the guitar-bass-drums trinity, each level works both for and against the others, questioning the trinity’s logic.
From verse to verse to chorus and back, that structure moves and develops — ironically, gleefully — phased and mirrored through its own logic. The joy in the intelligence of this music is mercurial. With the pickup of ‘With A Hip’, there’s no need to go on. The rest of ‘Heaven Up Here’ (save ‘All I Want’) sucks — it’s certainly not “purely poetry”, as some nut was suggesting — but ‘Show Of Strength/With A Hip’ — as an inverse/obverse double turn on the stigmata of power and drama — leave me speechless. McCulloch is one of the great scholars of structure.
U2 | October | (Island) 1981
The point is that even the oceanic distance between Hugh Jones’ production of Sergeant and De Freitag and Steve Litlywhite‘s 100% pure beet treatment of The Edge and Larry is only a reflection of the gulf between Echo and 02. U2 had their one great moment with Hannett on “Tick Tock”, but there’s no turning back after ‘October’.
Bono’s cry on this record — and it’s not even an incantation — is “Rejoice!”. But as his own rejoicing voice, straining and waving like an archangel’s wings, arches its chords towards the lost paradise — where everything Is golden and exultant forever—you start to wonder if maybe you missed something. Where did it go? But “love me, come with me,” says the voice. “this is your voice, my brother, for you two are U2.” Anata mo, aneta mo . . .
Obviously rock doesn’t expire just because groups run out of ways to change it. U2, I guess, will continue to “move” in live performance, just like James Brown. But they will only move on the lightest surface. Their music does “soar”— in fact it wings its way pretty serenely over danger zones like The Fall or The Birthday Party. But then ‘God’ knows, there are other religions. (NME, 10/10/81)
U2 ‘October’ (Island ILPS 9680)*****
U2 | October | (Island) 1981 | THERE’S A classicism about U2 that’s best relayed by their covers. You can imagine either ‘Boy’ or now ‘October’ perched in a record shop in the middle of nowhere in ten years time, having more to do with grainy old MayaII, Them or Yardbirds sleeves than the moderns of the time.
U2 will endure. ‘October’ hits that home magnificently. It’s just how they will endure that’ll trouble us come U2 ‘3’ or ‘4’. More svelte power rock, that great cover again, songs that come in bits and pieces (on side the second more fragments than songs), a structure a bit like the last Bunnymen album, ‘October’ is as sheer, taut and voracious an album as / have heard in ages.
Where ‘Boy’ was the initial (Christian) battle-cry (“We’re here, look at us!”), ‘October’ from the title down is the start of the strenuous task of, literal or non-literal I wouldn’t hazard to guess, conversion (How difficult this all is!”).
Again perhaps controversially produced by Steve Lillywhite, the sound’s almost as decorative (lots of jingle bells) as ‘Boy’ but with much more muscle beneath it. There’s much more confidence now in that relationship.
Like ‘Heaven Up Here’ it’s very much a studio album. There’s little air breathing there. A kind of zenith pop then, no half measures. It all breathes fire, recovering too from the pair of stand-outs appearing at the start of each side — ‘Gloria’ being possibly Their Finest Moment and ‘Tomorrow’, low and muted, gently oozing emotion (and ‘about’, if it matters, Bono’s mother’s death I’d guess).
The old raunch style of songs crop up but for the most part U2’s writing’s heading into the much more interesting direction of restrained reflection, more poise and less beef. It I tell you ‘Tomorrow’ (the weepie) has Van Morrison-fired Oillean pipes starring it’d give you some notion of the maturity these purportedly ‘live’ hot-heads are gaining.
Fire
It’s an album too to steer U2 away from dread JD Minor League accusations. They might not have actually grown-up (thankfully: the energy remains) but they’ve at least grown. Only the rather obvious attempt at Antishness, ‘Fire’, pales beside the rest.
The only slight danger spot emanating from all this zenith pop, as I see it, is U2’s proneness to a friendly clique-ness — putting The Quiet One, namely the title track (so many seconds long) in the exact same place as ‘Ocean’ on ‘Boy’ seems a ploy too easily recognisable to true fans for comfort.
We don’t want Bono as the new Michael Crawford, never mind the new Cliff Richard (stick to Burt B) . . .
I’m moaning. Who cares. This ‘October’ will last forever. (Sounds, 24/10/81)
U2 | October | (Island) 1981
In which U2 build courageously, giving more rein than ever to their melodic drive, soaring spirit and experimental side. The result is a more open and atmospheric sound, with a greater emphasis on the religious imagery (which is either inoffensive or attractively ambiguous).
Elsewhere, touches of brass, pipes and piano provide the unexpected while there’s also some outstandingly creative instrumental work by the boys themselves. ‘October’ leaves ‘Boy’ standing. If that album was magic, this one is sorcery. (Smash Hits, October, 1981)
The Art Of Survival
ANOTHER year and the second album. It’s a difficult one for U2 after the rapturous reception for last year’s ‘Boy’, success in the UK and a growing American following.
Wisely, U2 headed back to the familiar turf of Dublin’s Windmill Lane studios to record ‘October’, and stuck with match-winning producer Steve Lillywhite.
The results bear comparison in many ways with ‘Boy’. The group’s approach retains the familiar hallmarks – The Edge‘s guitar rings and soars, Adam Clayton‘s bass rumbles with the same driving purposefulness, and the songs are structured in a broadly similar manner.
But there are significant differences too. This time, Lillywhite has abandoned the ambient spaciousness he employed before, bringing the instruments and Bono‘s voice up close and thrusting the bass and drums hard upfront.
And then there’s Bono’s singing. The voice is much clearer this time, stronger and more expressive . . . and more desperate.
‘October’ is, suitably enough, dark and autumnal in mood. It’s a coherent collection of pieces too, more so than ‘Boy’, which was a collection of songs unified by U2’s distinctive sound but lacking any thematic thread.
U2 | October | (Island) 1981
Not that ‘October’ is a “concept album”, but it’s shot through with a deep sense of search, sometimes fearful, sometimes bewildered, often disoriented.
It’s easy to snipe at U2’s religious preoccupations, of course, though neither here nor on ‘Boy’ have they issued a set of instructions for cleaner living, Zim-style.
I’d describe ‘October’ as a spiritual record in the broad sense of the term. You can’t miss the ecclesiastical overtones implicit in songs like the new single “Gloria” (I think Bono evens sings “exultate”) nor in the title of “With A Shout (Jerusalem)”.
But this isn’t a step-by-step recipe for righteousness, more an admission of a need for something to steer by in a world which can by turns offer excitement, dazzling motion or a broken bottle at midnight.
“I wish you were here/To see what I can see,” sings Bono in “Stranger In A Strange Land”. It’s both a celebration of the horizons which have opened up for the group over the last year and a recognition of the fearsome potential for harm inherent in them. What they’re looking for is the means of separating the things of value from the glittering prizes which suddenly turn malignant.
‘October’s most striking impression is one of melancholy. There’s nothing here to match the incandescent ecstasies of “I Will Follow” or “Out Of Control”, though “Gloria” is thrilling enough, especially in it’s final freewheeling choruses.
There’s still plenty of U2’s familiar sense of space and motion, because that’s they way they play. But the regretful wonderment of adolescence which fuelled much of ‘Boy’ is replaced here by doubt and questions of sometimes frightening intensity. Even the cascading “Rejoice” undercuts it’s title with suggestions of fearful uncertainty, while the recent single “Fire” is dramatically sombre.
U2 | October | (Island) 1981
‘October’ is enticingly packaged in a sleeve decorated with colour photos of the group down by the Dublin docks, and here’s another key. The mysteries and possibilities which explode through most of these songs have driven U2 back into themselves and caused them to look for truths or verities from their own shared background.
Thus, “Tomorrow” opens with wistful uillean pipes, making explicit the Celtic edge you could always sense in U2 in songs like “An Cat Dubh” or “Into The Heart”. It’s here that U2’s real strength lies.
Their whole musical sensibility is shaped by a strong emotional bond to their homeland and its traditions. It gives them a completely different frame of reference from most groups, and on ‘October’ it’s given them the strength to assimilate a barrage of disorientation and to turn that into a cohesive body of music. Art as means of survival, no less.
After claims that their lengthy stint in the States had made U2 jaded and turned them into a sub-heavy metal outfit, ‘October’ is especially welcome. It’s not as pretty as ‘Boy’, despite decorative touches like the over-sensitive title track and the reference to Fleetwood Mac’s “Man Of The World” in “Scarlet”.
It’s not a fashionable record either, because it needs time to work its way into your heart. And U2’s emotionalism is at times threatening in its nakedness, their detractors will just have to lump it because they’re here to stay. (Melody Maker, 10/10/81)
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