When love comes to town

I no longer remember when I first realized I was in love. It was many years ago, when I was still a teenager, and consumed with childish things. And then, one day, probably through a friend, we met. And that was that - for many years after, U2 was it for me.

"The Unforgettable Fire" showed me that music could be about something and not just be pretty boys in pretty videos singing songs I could 80s dance to. And on a hot summer day, in my parents' rec room, their performance of "Bad" at Live Aid made me want to be the girl in the crowd more than anything in the whole wide world. In some ways, I think it's my musical litmus test - if I reference Live Aid, and that performance, and you don't understand why I feel the way I do, a tiny piece of me will always be a mystery to you. 

Oh sure, we weren't exclusive. I had flings, meaningful relationships even, with many others. The Waterboys and I had something really special, REM and I had a situation, Crowded House very nearly split us up. Even the Sisters of Mercy and I kept company for a while, until it became just too much work to take that damn eyeliner off every night.  But always, there in the background, like a favourite t-shirt, waiting for me to realize I could depend on them, were Bono and the boys.

"The Joshua Tree". My God, I loved that album. The first three songs on that record are probably my three favourite U2 songs. I cannot, to this day, hear "Where the Streets Have No Name" without picturing a rooftop, the crowds gathering below. Or without dashing to my stereo, cranking the knob, and having a sing-along, like I did about 10 minutes ago. I moved out of my parents house about six months after this album was released, and I've kind of always seen it as the soundtrack of my first taste of  independence. And my parents were probably only too happy to get a reprieve from the near constant playing. I'm pretty sure I wore out at least one turntable needle.

For a little while, with the video for  "With or Without You" fresh in my mind, and my hormones at critical mass, I was convinced the boy I had a crush on looked just like Bono did in the video. Did he? Probably only the tiniest bit. Did it get him to second base? Definitely yes.

"Rattle and Hum". I saw the movie more than once in the old art-house movie theatre, and the album was in heavy rotation at our apartment. Whenever the boy (he of the short pony tail and vaguely rock star swagger) came over, and my roommates weren't home,  he'd take out the album and set the needle to "All I Want is You". A few candles and track 17 and I could very nearly imagine I was kissing Bono. I wonder how many countless makeout sessions that song inspired? Even now, if a man were to put on that song, he'd likely have me at "You say you want/ your story to remain untold". But the combination of being 20 and the sexiness of the boy you like taking that album out of the sleeve, lifting the arm and setting the needle to just the right track? Hard to beat, even more than 20 years later. This may be the real reason behind vinyl's comeback. 
 
As I grew up, and they experimented, it was not always easy going. "Zooropa" and "Pop" left me cold, and I started to wonder if we'd grown too far apart, our young love coming to its inevitable end.  But our separation couldn't last, and we reconnected over "All That You Can't Leave Behind". It reminded me of why I'd loved them once.  

We've settled into a deep friendship now, the passion of my youth giving way to a more comfortable, and comforting, connection. I always like to know how they're doing, even if we don't have as much in common as we once did. But on Saturday night, it'll be like catching up with an old love you never quite got over, and I will be 15 again, and 19, and 23. And when I hear those jangly guitars on the opening to "Where the Streets...", I'll be singing, and dancing, and maybe even crying a little. And then, finally, I will be the girl in the crowd. I cannot wait.