I have a bit of a guilty conscience every time I fire up my iPod.
Although U2 make up the vast majority of my music library, lately I’ve been skipping past them to listen to other artists.
Only four of their songs have cracked the list of Top 25 most played songs on my iPod. I can’t even remember the last time I put one of their albums into my CD player.
In short, I’ve been cheating on my favorite band.
“Favorite band” is an understatement when it comes to my relationship with U2. Not only have I collected every album they’ve recorded, I’ve spent an inordinate amount of money on singles, side projects and remastered versions of albums I already own.
My shelves overflow with books on all aspects of their career, and I have boxes stuffed with magazines that carry only a fleeting mention of the band.
I have traveled hundreds of miles to see them perform live — I spent my 21st birthday with 19,000 screaming U2 fans at the Thomas and Mack Center in Las Vegas.
When I was in my teens, I had a recurring nightmare that I would hit the mother lode of rare memorabilia only to find my wallet entirely devoid of cash.
Some would call this an obsession; I call it devotion. So cheating on them with other musicians amounts to a small crisis of conscience to me. Bono, Edge, Adam and Larry have been my inspiration and a source of comfort since I was 14 years old. And now I’ve become bored with them simply because they haven’t released a completely new album in four years (c’mon fellas, what’s the hold up?).
The silver lining to this cloud is that my flagging enthusiasm has allowed me to broaden my musical horizons, something my friends and family have encouraged me to do for years.
I’ve discovered for myself the passion and soul of Bruce Springsteen, both with and without the E Street Band. I thought U2 were the only band I’d fly cross-country for, but apparently I’ll do the same for Bruce.
I’ve developed a greater appreciation for folk and bluegrass music, which I was first exposed to as a student at Western Kentucky University.
I’ve become more receptive to lesser-known bands that may not fill a stadium, but produce quality music just the same.
It’s probably for the best that U2 haven’t rushed to release their next album — their last three albums have all marked a turning point in my life: “All That You Can’t Leave Behind” was released just months before my life hit a rough patch; “How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb” came out my first day on the job in Eureka, Calif., where I met people who became a second family to me; and “U218,” a compilation of hits spanning the band’s 30-year career, was released as I was interviewing for my current job here at The Enterprise.
So continue working, gentlemen; I can wait a little longer for that album.
Jocelyn Robinson is copy editor for The Enterprise Newspapers.
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