Nelly and Transfarmer and Wife-unit and I trooped into town to see U2 last night. Thankfully Nelly brought the whiskey so we got through The Script without killing ourselves.

U2 in Dublin
(Image from Boldorak)

The performance is stunning. The show is overwhelming. But there is something deeply surreal about watching a gig live on television, which is basically what the Claw provides. The coolest tv ever, I’ll admit. But while it certainly brings you close to the action in one sense, it distances you in another.

Maybe we’re just getting old and like our music performed in sweaty little rooms above abandoned pubs.

They sang all the old favourites but a bunch of the new songs too. One can’t help feel like the new songs just won’t cut it. And while Bono organises a political lecture in the middle of a concert better than anyone could, I still want to ask, what difference does it make. Blackberry got a whole lot more out of last night’s festivities than the people of Burma.

But they are astoundingly great performers and the gig was flawless and the night was beautiful and Croke Park is special and my dear friends didn’t even make fun of me for dressing up like Larry Mullen Jr. And (unbeknownst to them) 120,000 people sang the opening lines to Psalm 40. So it was a night to savour.

Your Correspondent, Ready for the laughing gas.

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