Stretch in the age of Aquarius.
So Little Man Bono recently said that he wanted 2009 to be the Year of U2. Oh really. This causes a problem for Stretch. With the release of next month’s No Line on the Horizon, they will be smack bang in the consciousness of the planet. Perfect timing really. In fact, suspiciously perfect timing. Obamaman making his first cup of tea in the White House; Israel mismanaging the unmicromanageable situation in Gaza by killing everyone in sight; the collapse of the global economy and the inevitable self-destruction of Givo Trapper-Toni. What the world needs now is a gobby Little Man Bono with a whole projectile vomit of righteousness and indignation, separation, condemnation, revelation, isolation, desolation, mechanisation, etc etc.
Here’s my existential issue. Say I live to be at least 50, which would seem like quite an achievement considering the self-abuse this monkey indulges in, Little Man Bono will have taken up one year of that by demanding ownership of 2009. He will achieve this through the release of the album, the endless tour, the interviews, appearances on Jonathan Ross (minus the bad language, ohhhh you), the incessant award ceremonies like the Grammys and the Mofo mofo and that’s before the benefit gigs….There will be a new image, a new set of values and a new tint in those glasses. They will have taken up more than a fiftieth of my life. Violating it more like with their media machine. Horrible hangers on will be draped across their Lillies booth and paid assholes Guggi and Gavin Friday (remember the Fall, Gavin) will be wheeled out from storage to drink cocktails and simper about.
I always get the feeling that the Larry guy keeps all the rest down in a pit just like Buffalo Bill in that film
about sheepies. Stretch feels frightened by the sheepies. Why is that? Maybe I should see someone? Or is it CowFear, Bovinebloodcurdlingbollox? I see the Larry guy screaming down the hole, waking up his school-gimps and ordering the Edge (stoopid, stoopid Edge) and the guy with the perm to jam and come up with some new rawk. The Uber-undead, Lanois and Eno, are released from their cryogenic chamber, thawed and given gitanes. This makes them happy which in turn creates noise. But the Larry guy is the key, the reason it all exists, and he is the Keyser Soze element. Beating the band into shape and getting them on the road again. Shaping Little Man Bono requires a Rocky Balboa-style training montage.
Little Man Bono, tired of this process, steals the tapes and flees to the South of France, holing up in a chateau and brooding. After a month of dismay and some sex with Rebecca de Mornay, he sticks the mastertape on and begins to dance around his house in a very theatrical way dressed only in his underpants, screaming to himself.
“This is my Year, this is my Year!”
A very strange boy wanders from the Netherlands to the South of France after being sent to the shop for milk and fags. Overhears Little Man Bono crooning in his Y-fronts, freaks out and hits RECORD. This recording ends up on the internet, scaring the shit out of sweat-shop owner and wet dream of Lars Ulrich, Paul McGuinness. However, listening to the tape, all he can hear is a drunk and bitter Little Man Bono crying the words of various Coldplay songs and a nasty vomiting sound. Crying in the corner Little Man Bono confesses to his dictaphone that he still doesn’t get that joke, “Why did Bono fall off the stage? Coz he was standing too close to the Edge.”
Anyway Stretch is worried. It hasn’t started yet, but it’s in the post and we know where we’re going to end up by the end of the year. It is necessary in one way for them to keep going. In the land of Richard Corrigan and strap-on Corrs, U2 may resemble the closest thing that increasingly bland little country is going to get to counter-culture. They may be a bright spot in a media sponsored recession. I may even grow to love them like I did as a child, but I doubt it. For all the good they do, they have a habit of pissing Stretch off and as Steve Buscemi would say,
“that can’t happen!”