Dancing to the Popmart

I've recently come to the conclusion that U2 is my default music. I always seem to come back to listening to U2. It's weird.

Anyway, a week or so ago, I decided to do something I haven't done for a long time - listen to Zooropa while playing Super Mario World. I got Zooropa on cassette for Christmas in '93, the same time we got our Super Nintendo (which came with SMW), and I remember many a snowy evening in front of the TV, controller in hand, with Zooropa playing on the tape deck. Ever since, there's been a psychic link between the two with me.

In reliving that experience, I started yet another U2 phase. I'd been pretty much U2ed out since the Elevation tour and never really got into How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb, though it is a good record. It was shortly after seeing them at Notre Dame that I discovered EELS.

Since then, I listened to E & co. pretty regularly with the occasional Bob Dylan or Johnny Cash sidetrack, and I'm a better person for it. Discovering that copy of Souljacker marked half off at the bookstore marked the beginning of a turning point in my life that forced me to alter my perspective on myself and my relationship with the world, and I am eternally grateful for that.

It's like I have a relationship with the music I listen to. Not all of it, mind you, but sometimes a band or artist will come along at the right time, and a profound sense of intimacy will generate between it and myself, for whatever reason. EELS helped me in a difficult and trying period of my life in which I had to wrestle with my identity, my depression, my transition from childhood to adulthood, and the occasion for which I had postponed my suicide all those years ago.

When I saw them earlier this year, I had a very moving experience during Not Ready Yet. I really relate to that song, as I do with so many others, but it held a special meaning for me this time around. I know what it feels like to be in that state of mind, and I know how awful that feeling is.

But I think I'm past that. It took me almost 30 years, but that's over. I wrestled the demon and won. Now I'm on track for The Rest Of My Life, and it's not looking too bad. It won't be perfect, but it's not as daunting as it once was.

So, with that period in my life done, I can now shelve the music that is so precious and dear to me and move on with my life. I hope to revisit it again someday.

For now, though, I've been listening to Pop. I'm not sure why. It's not their strongest album by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, it's pretty obvious that it's only really half done. They released singles for about half the album, and those versions are vast improvements. I half to wonder if they're ever going to remake the album as a whole (for, like, the 10th anniversary or something) with actual completed versions of all the tracks. And if they do, I wonder how many U2 fans will bitch about Bono raping their childhood. They did new mixed of Discotheque, Staring at the Sun, and Gone for their Best of 1990 - 2000 album, and there's also single versions of Mofo, If God Will Send His Angels, Last Night on Earth, and Please which could go on it. That leaves just Do You Feel Loved, Miami, The Playboy Mansion, If You Wear that Velvet Dress, and Wake Up, Dead Man, which, you may have noticed, were never that popular.

But how can you like U2 but not believe in God?

It's easy. Just ask Adam Clayton.

- Numb, Gone, Lemon