Countdown to Vertigo

Just about 48 hours from now, I'll be standing in the Boston Garden (technically the TD Banknorth Garden, but whatever), quivering with anticipation, waiting to hear "Wake Up" by Arcade Fire start playing over the speakers, because that's the signal that the greatest band in the history of rock is about to take the stage. Yes, I am a shameless, hopeless U2 fan, and I cannot wait to see them (again!). I caught the show in Boston back in October, and I have never experienced anything like it. I'd seen them live twice before--first time was on Zoo TV in 1993 in the Oakland Coliseum, second time was the opening show of the Pop Mart tour in 1997 in Las Vegas. Both were outdoor stadium shows, and as great as they were, the show overwhelmed the music a bit. Regrettably, I missed out on the Elevation tour (too poor at the time), but never again. When tickets went on sale for Vertigo, I promptly worked Ticketmaster to get seats for the October show, and when they added the December show 15 minutes later, I said fuck it, get another pair! So my buddy David and I went in October, sat behind the stage in the upper deck and were still blown away. This time, I'm taking the wife and we're sitting in the balcony right above where the Edge will be. David dropped a pretty penny to get floor tix for him and his girl, so we're all going up together. Did I mention I can't wait?

It's such an emotional experience, I have trouble explaining it. I hope Diana feels even part of what I did. First of all, they're an awesome band, they're great live, and they really are enjoying what they're doing. Second, their songs are moving and emotional to begin with, and being part of a crowd of thousands screaming every word along with them, it's hard to not be swept away. But what I realized last time was most affecting for me was that as I was singing every song with them, being carried away by the music, feeling a lump grow in my throat at times, I realized that their music has been a huge part of my life for almost 20 years. I really discovered them, like many did, when Joshua Tree came out, and I remember spending that summer of 1987 (I was 15) working my summer job at the junior high school changing locker combinations, listening to that tape over and over on my Walkman, front and back, over and over, till it wore out. I went and got all the previous tapes and started learning the wonders of their early stuff (although I still don't know Boy and October too well). When I went away to summer school, I wrote the lyrics to "Running to Stand Still" on my orange Converse All-Stars, along with my peaceful-anarchy symbol (hey, I was 15--that passed for deep). Over the years, I anticipated each new album eagerly (although I confess, I didn't get Zooropa at first). And I grew to respect Bono and what he stood up for, even while I chuckled at his pompousness and posturing. But that sense of continuity, that that music has followed me through so many different phases of my life, it was a little overwhelming. I guess that's why people love their old music, it reconnects them to a time and a place. And to have the same band do that over so many years is special to me.

I'm already feeling the letdown I'll feel after it's over, knowing I won't see them again for another few years. But I'm trying not to dwell on that, and just be ready to let the emotion wash over me Sunday night.