LIVE 8 - July 2, 2005

Here’s another review from my archives, written for inclusion in a sheet music songbook that compiled many of the songs performed on the day.

Before a worldwide TV audience estimated at three billion, Live 8 entered history books on July 2 by becoming the most watched pop event ever. The charismatic Bob Geldof once again managed to harness the power of pop to put across his powerful message to world leaders: we, the people, demand that something be done about the perpetual crisis in Africa.

         The inspiration for the event came from Bono and screenwriter Richard Curtis, and it wasn’t until the U2 front man came up with the idea of opening the show with ‘Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band’, to be sung by Paul McCartney with the Dublin superstar quartet as his backing band, that Geldof was convinced of the viability of trying to top Live Aid. It wasn’t exactly ‘twenty years ago today’ but near enough for Geldof to get on board, open his black book and begin recruiting.

         So it was that at 2pm the former Beatle found himself singing the opening line of the opening song of what many consider to be the greatest album of all time – backed up by the biggest band in the world who promptly followed him, with Bono singing a few lines from McCartney’s ‘Blackbird’ in ‘Beautiful Day’ and closing their set with ‘One’. Normally, this would be the sort of extravaganza that would close any show and in any other circumstances Coldplay’s Chris Martin would have been shaking in his trainers at the thought of following it, but the audience warmed to his obvious sincerity, especially when he inserted a few lines from ‘Rockin’ All Over The World’ – the song with which Status Quo opened Live Aid – into ‘In My Place’.

         There followed a parade of superstars, the likes of which certainly hadn’t been seen since Live Aid, among them Elton John, R.E.M., Annie Lennox, Madonna, Robbie Williams, The Who and Pink Floyd. Amid the many highlights was Geldof’s own unplanned appearance with the inevitable ‘I Don’t Like Mondays’, and Dido’s pairing with Youssou N’Dour, the only African artist to appear. Enfant terrible Pete Docherty joined Elton John for a stab at T. Rex’s ‘Children Of The Revolution’, and R.E.M.’s Michael Stipe appeared with an unsettling blue stripe daubed across his eyes. Madonna was characteristically ambitious, backed by the London Community Choir, while Robbie Williams, introduced by England football captain David Beckham, covered Queen’s ‘We Will Rock You’ before singing ‘Let Me Entertain You’ and ‘Angels’.

         But the day didn’t belong only to established superstars. After Keane and Razorlight, The Killers brought a touch of aggressive rock’n’roll mayhem to the stage, and were joined on guitar by Slash, the top-hatted guitar hero of Guns’n’Roses. The quirky Scissor Sisters performed a powerful, crowd-pleasing set while Joss Stone, whose soulful style belies her age, must have gained many new admirers.

         As at Live Aid The Who somehow failed to live up to their reputation, choosing to perform two long, synthesiser-based songs, ‘Who Are You’ and ‘Won’t Get Fooled Again’, where three or four shorter, snappier songs that relied more on Pete Townshend’s guitar chords might have been more advisable. They were certainly full of energy but the highlight of the night, emotionally as well as musically, was without doubt the penultimate act, Pink Floyd. Somehow Bob Geldof had managed to persuade the classic Floyd line-up of Rogers Waters, David Gilmour, Rick Wright and Nick Mason to set aside their differences for the sake of the cause, and the audience was serenaded by this most ethereal of bands performing ‘Speak To Me’/‘Breathe’, ‘Money’, ‘Wish You Were Here’ and ‘Comfortably Numb’. Bereft of their usual crowd-pleasing props and light show, Floyd’s music, clearly well-rehearsed, seemed to take on an added warmth as the night drew in. The moving sight of this much loved British band together again for the first time in 24 years was made all the more poignant when Waters dedicated ‘Wish You Were Here’ to Syd Barrett, their founding genius.

        

In the end it was left to Paul McCartney, nowadays rock’s senior figure, to close out the day with a Beatles medley of ‘Get Back’, ‘Drive My Car’, on which he was joined  by George Michael, ‘Birthday’ and ‘The Long And Winding Road’ which segued into the coda of ‘Hey Jude’, the ideal climactic sing-along.

         Whether the world leaders who met at Gleneagles the following week got the message remains to be seen, but the day’s events proved yet again the potency of our popular music as a unifying force in this divided world.

         

THE DALTON BROTHERS - U2 In Disguise

It was while I was editing the U2 Concert File that I discovered that back in 1987 the group played a prank on fans that I figure must be unique, appearing on stage in disguise among the support acts as another group altogether.

They tried it on first on November 1 at the Hoosier Dome in Indianapolis. After The BoDeans the MC announced there was an extra band on the bill called The Dalton Brothers, and this was the cue for U2 to walk out on stage in wigs and dressed in cowboy gear. Adam wore a skirt and girly wig, and Bono’s wig was red. With all four Daltons wearing sunglasses and assuming Texan accents, hardly anyone recognized them. Bono introduced his fellow Dalton Brothers as ‘Luke, Duke and Betty Dalton’, and sang their country song ‘Lucille’ after which Edge (Luke) sang the Hank Williams song ‘Lost Highway’. During the song Bono talked about meeting the late country legend “a few years ago in Indianapolis” and, hilariously, recalled that Williams told him, “You can go far with Country & Western, not that rock’n’roll shit.”

         During their own set later that night U2 reprised ‘Lucille’, and only then did the vast majority of the audience realise that The Dalton Brothers were actually U2 in disguise.

         U2 repeated the stunt at the Memorial Coliseum in Los Angeles on November 17, with The Dalton Brothers again making an appearance between the two support acts. After a grand introduction they walked on stage and spoke to the audience in thick Texas accents. “Right, we play two kinds of music: country and western,” said the singer. “This is a little tune I wrote back down south, a tune I’ve labelled ‘Lucille’, hope ya like it.” By this time the U2 bush telegraph must have been crackling as about half the audience recognised U2 and laughed their heads off, but the other half was bewildered and looked on silently. During the song the singer announced, “I’d just like to introduce you – we got Luke Dalton on guitar. This is my sister Betty Dalton, behind me on the drums we got Duke Dalton. My name is Alton Dalton, don’t you forget it.” 

         During their set a reporter from a local newspaper asked a fan her opinion on the Daltons. “They’re OK but I wish they’d bring U2 on,” she said.

         The Dalton Brothers made one more appearance during the tour, at the Coliseum in Hampton on December 12, this time in the middle of U2’s set with four members of their crew dressing up as the band’s alter ego to surprise them. Bono managed to retain his composure to introduce and sing with them, remarking, “My, Betty, do you grow prettier every day!”

U2 – The Concert File & Other Matters

I only ever saw U2 once, at Wembley Arena around the time that Joshua Tree was released in the eighties, but I’ve always had a sneaking admiration for them mixed with occasional feelings of despair when they overplay their cards or when Bono puts on his ‘holier than thou’ hat. In 2008 all four were in the congregation a few pews in front of me for the funeral service at Golders Green of my old friend Rob Partridge, who became the PR at Island after working on Melody Maker, and who was responsible in no small way for U2 signing to the label amid fierce competition from elsewhere. Their attendance demonstrated the gratitude they still felt towards Rob for his guidance before they became a global phenomenon, and I was impressed that the band that was arguably the biggest in the world made the effort to attend. The Rolling Stones wouldn’t have turned out for a former publicist, that’s for sure.

        

I was reminded of this while watching U2 on the Graham Norton chat show last Friday night, and also that in 1994 I flew to Amsterdam to meet up with an über-U2 fan called Pimm Jal de la Parra who wanted to compile a book called the U2 Concert File. It was much more than a listing of every concert the group had ever performed as Pimm had contacted U2 fans throughout the world and asked them to send reports and tapes of all the shows they’d seen. On the walls of his apartment were shelves full of cassettes from hundreds of U2 shows, and every listing in the book would contain details not just of what songs were played but of what exactly happened at every show, all the quirks and spontaneous incidents, this being a time when U2 liked to interact with their fans during a show, meaning anything could happen and often did.

         I subsequently learned that U2 loved the book and took copies of it everywhere they went on tour. It enabled them to refer back to previous shows in a particular city, thus creating the impression that U2, and Bono in particular, always remembered every gig they’d ever done everywhere in the world. One example of this was apologising for a particularly bad traffic snarl-up after a show which delayed fans’ departure the last time U2 played that city. “Real sorry for the traffic hold ups last time we were here,” Bono announced between numbers, having read about the problems in the U2 Concert File of course. “Hope it doesn’t happen again tonight,” he added to generous applause.

         So enthused were U2 by Pimm’s book that when next they were in Amsterdam they invited him to their hotel to meet him. He duly went along, shook their hands and left but not before U2 asked him to join them for dinner after that night’s show. “Sorry but I’m meeting some friends for a drink,” he replied to U2’s astonishment. Accustomed the great and the good of society bending low before them, U2 suddenly had to get their heads around the fact that a mere fan would prefer to meet his mates for a drink than have dinner with them at, presumably, a fancy restaurant. Humbled, their admiration for Pimm increased beyond measure.

         Pimm died in 2002 and was mourned not just by U2 fans the world over but by members of the U2 organisation. Here’s what their show designer Willie Williams wrote about Pimm on a U2 website. 

http://www.atu2.com/news/pimm-jal-de-la-parra-1966-2002.html

         Tomorrow I’ll post my favourite bit from Pimm’s book in which U2 became their own support act in disguise, and no one in the huge audience realized.