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Bruce Springsteen's induction speech:
Uno, dos, tres, catorce. That translates as one, two, three,
fourteen. That is the correct math for a rock and roll band. For in
art and love and rock and roll, the whole had better equal much more
than the sum of its parts or else you're just rubbing two sticks
together searching for fire.
A great rock band searches for the same kind of combustible force
that fueled the expansion of the universe after the big bang. You
want the earth to shake and spit fire. You want the sky to split
apart and for God to pour out. It's embarrassing to want so much and
to expect so much from music except, sometimes it happens: the Sun
Sessions, Highway 61, Sgt. Peppers, the Band, Robert Johnson, Exile
On Main Street, Born To Run -- whoops, I meant to leave that one out -
- the Sex Pistols, Aretha Franklin, the Clash, James Brown; the proud
and public enemies it takes a nation of millions to hold back. This
is music meant to take on not only the powers that be, but on a good
day, the universe and God himself if he was listening. It's man's
accountability, and U2 belongs on this list.
It was the early 80s. I went with Pete Townsend, who always wanted
to catch the first whiff of those about to unseat us, to a club in
London. There they were: a young Bono (single-handedly pioneering the
Irish mullet), The Edge (what kind of name was that?), Adam, and
Larry. I was listening to the last band of whom I would be able to
name all of its members. They had an exciting show and a big,
beautiful sound. They lifted the roof. We met afterwards and they
were nice, young men. They were Irish. Irish. Now this would play an
enormous part in their success in the States. For what the English
occasionally have the refined sensibilities to overcome, we Irish and
Italians have no such problem. We come through the door fists and
hearts first.
U2, with the dark, chiming sound of heaven at their command which,
of course, is the sound of unrequited love and longing (their
greatest theme). Their search for God intact. This was a band that
wanted to lay claim to not only in this world, but had their eyes on
the next one too. Now, they're a real band. Each member plays a vital
part. I believe they actually practice some form of democracy --
toxic poison in a band's head. In Iraq, maybe. In rock, no. Yet, they
survive. They have harnessed the time bomb that exists in the heart
of every great rock and roll band that usually explodes, as we see
regularly from this stage. But they seemed to have innately
understood the primary rule of rock band job security: "Hey, asshole,
the other guy is more important than you think he is!"
They are both a step forward and direct descendants of the great
bands who believed rock music could shake things up in the world,
dared to have faith in their audience, who believed if they played
their best, it would bring out the best in you. They believed in pop
stardom and the big time. Now this requires foolishness and a
calculating mind. It also requires a deeply held faith in the work
you're doing and in its powers to transform. U2 hungered for it all
and built a sound and they wrote the songs that demanded it. They're
keepers of some of the most beautiful, sonic architecture in rock and
roll.
The Edge, the Edge, the Edge, the Edge. He is a rare and true guitar
original and one of the subtlest guitar heroes of all time. He's
dedicated to ensemble playing, and he subsumes his guitar ego in the
group. But do not be fooled. Take Jimi Hendrix, Chuck Berry, Neil
Young, Pete Townsend --guitarists who defined the sound of their band
and their times. If you play like them, you sound like them. If you
are playing those rhythmic two note sustained fourths, drenched in
echo, you are going to sound like the Edge, my son. Go back to the
drawing board and chances are you won't have much luck. There are
only a handful of guitar stylists who can create a world with their
instruments and he's one of them. The Edge's guitar playing creates
enormous space and vast landscapes. It is a thrilling and a
heartbreaking sound that hangs over you like the unsettled sky. In
the turf it stakes out, it is inherently spiritual. It is grace, and
it is a gift.
Now, all of this has to be held down by something. The deep sureness
of Adam Clayton's bass and the rhythms of Larry Mullen's elegant
drumming hold the band down while propelling it forward. It's in U2's
great rhythm section that the band finds its sexuality and its
dangerousness. Listen to "Desire," she moves in "Mysterious Ways,"
the pulse of "With or Without You." Together Larry and Adam create
the element that suggests the ecstatic possibilities of that other
kingdom -- the one below the earth and below the belt -- that no
great rock band can lay claim to the title without.
Now Adam always strikes me as the professorial one, the
sophisticated member. He creates not only the musical but physical
stability on his side of the stage. The tone and depth of his bass
playing has allowed the band to move from rock to dance music and
beyond.
One of the first things I noticed about U2 was that underneath the
guitar and the bass, they have these very modern rhythms going on.
Rather than a straight 2 and 4, Larry often plays with a lot of
syncopation and that connects the band to modern dance textures. The
drums often sounded high and tight, and he was swinging down there
and this gave the band a unique profile and allowed their rock
textures to soar above on a bed of his rhythm. Now Larry, of course,
besides being an incredible drummer, bears the burden of being the
band's requisite "good-looking member" -- something we somehow
overlooked in the E Street Band. We have to settle for "charismatic."
The girls love on Larry Mullen. I have a female assistant that would
like to sit on Larry's drum stool. A male one too. We all have our
crosses to bear.
Bono, where do I begin? Jeans designer, soon-to-be World Bank
operator, just plain operator, seller of the Brooklyn Bridge -- oh
hold up, he played under the Brooklyn Bridge, that's right -- soon-to-
be mastermind operator of the Bono Burger franchise, where more than
one billion stories will be told by a crazy Irishman!
Now I realize that it's a dirty job and somebody has to do it. But
don't quit your day job yet, my friend. You're pretty good at it. And
a sound this big needs somebody to ride herd over it, and ride herd
over it he does. His voice, big-hearted and open, thoroughly decent
no matter how hard he tries. He's a great frontman. Against the odds,
he is not your mom's standard skinny, ex-junkie archetype. He has the
physique of a rugby player -- well, an ex-rugby player. Shaman,
scheister, one of the greatest and most endearingly naked messianic
complexes in rock and roll. God bless you, man! It takes one to know
one, of course.
You see every good Irish and Italian-Irish frontman knows that
before James Brown, there was Jesus. So hold the McDonald arches on
the stage set, boys, we are not ironists. We are creations of the
heart, and of the earth, and of the stations of the cross. There's no
getting out of it.
He is gifted with an operatic voice and a beautiful falsetto rare
among strong rock singers. But most important, his is a voice shot
through with self-doubt. That's what makes that big sound work. It is
this element of Bono's talent, along with his beautiful lyric
writing, that gives the often-celestial music of U2 its fragility and
its realness. It is the questioning, the constant questioning in
Bono's voice, where the band stakes its claim to its humanity and
declares its commonality with us. Now Bono's voice often sounds like
its shouting not over top of the band but from deep within it --
"Here we are, Lord. This mess. In your image." He delivers all of
this with great drama and an occasional smirk that says, "Kiss me.
I'm Irish." He's one of the great frontmen of the past 20 years. He
is also one of the only musicians to devote his personal faith and
the ideals of his band into the real world in a way that remains true
to rock's earliest implications of freedom and connection and the
possibility of something better.
Now the band's beautiful songwriting -- "Pride (In The Name of
Love)," "Sunday Bloody Sunday," "I Still Haven't Found What I'm
Looking For," "One," "Where the Streets Have No Name," "Beautiful
Day" -- remind us of the stakes that the band always plays for. It's
an incredible songbook. In their music, you hear the spirituality as
home and as quest. How do you find God unless he's in your heart, in
your desire, in your feet? I believe this is a big part of what's
kept their band together all of these years. See, bands get formed by
accident, but they don't survive by accident. It takes will, intent,
a sense of shared purpose, and a tolerance for your friendsÕ
fallibilities -- and they of yours. And that only evens the odds.
U2's not only evened the odds, but they've beaten them by continuing
to do their finest work and remaining at the top of their game and
the charts for 25 years. I feel a great affinity for these guys as
people as well as musicians.
Well, there I was sitting down on the couch in my pajamas with my
eldest son. He was watching TV. I was doing one of my favorite
things: I was tallying up all the money I passed up in endorsements
over the years and thinking of all the fun I could have had with it.
Suddenly I hear "Uno, dos, tres, catorce." I look up. But instead of
the silhouettes of the hippy-wannabes bouncing around in the iPod
commercial, I see my boys! Oh my God! They sold out!
Now, what I know about the iPod is this: it is a device that plays
music. Of course, their new song sounded great, my guys are doing
great, but methinks I hear the footsteps of my old tape operator
Jimmy Iovine somewhere. Wily, smart. Now, personally, I live an
insanely expensive lifestyle that my wife barely tolerates. I burn
money and that calls for huge amounts of cashflow. But, I also have a
ludicrous image of myself that keeps me from truly cashing in. You
can see my problem. Woe is me.
So the next morning, I call up Jon Landau -- or as I refer to him,
"the American Paul McGuinness" -- and I say, "Did you see that iPod
thing?" and he says, "Yes." And he says, "And I hear they didn't take
any money." And I said, "They didn't take any money?!" And he says,
"No." I said, "Smart, wily, Irish guys. Anybody, anybody can do an ad
and take the money, but to do the ad and not take the money, that's
smart. That's wily."
I say, "Jon, I want you to call up Bill Gates or whoever is behind
this thing and float this: a red, white, and blue iPod signed by
Bruce "The Boss" Springsteen. Now, remember, no matter how much money
he offers, don't take it!"
At any rate, after that evening for the next month or so, I hear
emanating from my lovely 14-year-old son's room, day after day, down
the hall, calling out in a voice that has recently dropped very low:
"Uno, dos, tres, catorce." The correct math for rock and roll. Thank
you, boys.
This band has carried their faith in the great inspirational and
resurrective power of rock and roll. It never faltered -- only a
little bit. They believed in themselves, but, more importantly, they
believed in you too. Thank you Bono, Edge, Adam, and Larry. Please
welcome U2 to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
Uno, dos, tres, catorce. That translates as one, two, three,
fourteen. That is the correct math for a rock and roll band. For in
art and love and rock and roll, the whole had better equal much more
than the sum of its parts or else you're just rubbing two sticks
together searching for fire.
A great rock band searches for the same kind of combustible force
that fueled the expansion of the universe after the big bang. You
want the earth to shake and spit fire. You want the sky to split
apart and for God to pour out. It's embarrassing to want so much and
to expect so much from music except, sometimes it happens: the Sun
Sessions, Highway 61, Sgt. Peppers, the Band, Robert Johnson, Exile
On Main Street, Born To Run -- whoops, I meant to leave that one out -
- the Sex Pistols, Aretha Franklin, the Clash, James Brown; the proud
and public enemies it takes a nation of millions to hold back. This
is music meant to take on not only the powers that be, but on a good
day, the universe and God himself if he was listening. It's man's
accountability, and U2 belongs on this list.
It was the early 80s. I went with Pete Townsend, who always wanted
to catch the first whiff of those about to unseat us, to a club in
London. There they were: a young Bono (single-handedly pioneering the
Irish mullet), The Edge (what kind of name was that?), Adam, and
Larry. I was listening to the last band of whom I would be able to
name all of its members. They had an exciting show and a big,
beautiful sound. They lifted the roof. We met afterwards and they
were nice, young men. They were Irish. Irish. Now this would play an
enormous part in their success in the States. For what the English
occasionally have the refined sensibilities to overcome, we Irish and
Italians have no such problem. We come through the door fists and
hearts first.
U2, with the dark, chiming sound of heaven at their command which,
of course, is the sound of unrequited love and longing (their
greatest theme). Their search for God intact. This was a band that
wanted to lay claim to not only in this world, but had their eyes on
the next one too. Now, they're a real band. Each member plays a vital
part. I believe they actually practice some form of democracy --
toxic poison in a band's head. In Iraq, maybe. In rock, no. Yet, they
survive. They have harnessed the time bomb that exists in the heart
of every great rock and roll band that usually explodes, as we see
regularly from this stage. But they seemed to have innately
understood the primary rule of rock band job security: "Hey, asshole,
the other guy is more important than you think he is!"
They are both a step forward and direct descendants of the great
bands who believed rock music could shake things up in the world,
dared to have faith in their audience, who believed if they played
their best, it would bring out the best in you. They believed in pop
stardom and the big time. Now this requires foolishness and a
calculating mind. It also requires a deeply held faith in the work
you're doing and in its powers to transform. U2 hungered for it all
and built a sound and they wrote the songs that demanded it. They're
keepers of some of the most beautiful, sonic architecture in rock and
roll.
The Edge, the Edge, the Edge, the Edge. He is a rare and true guitar
original and one of the subtlest guitar heroes of all time. He's
dedicated to ensemble playing, and he subsumes his guitar ego in the
group. But do not be fooled. Take Jimi Hendrix, Chuck Berry, Neil
Young, Pete Townsend --guitarists who defined the sound of their band
and their times. If you play like them, you sound like them. If you
are playing those rhythmic two note sustained fourths, drenched in
echo, you are going to sound like the Edge, my son. Go back to the
drawing board and chances are you won't have much luck. There are
only a handful of guitar stylists who can create a world with their
instruments and he's one of them. The Edge's guitar playing creates
enormous space and vast landscapes. It is a thrilling and a
heartbreaking sound that hangs over you like the unsettled sky. In
the turf it stakes out, it is inherently spiritual. It is grace, and
it is a gift.
Now, all of this has to be held down by something. The deep sureness
of Adam Clayton's bass and the rhythms of Larry Mullen's elegant
drumming hold the band down while propelling it forward. It's in U2's
great rhythm section that the band finds its sexuality and its
dangerousness. Listen to "Desire," she moves in "Mysterious Ways,"
the pulse of "With or Without You." Together Larry and Adam create
the element that suggests the ecstatic possibilities of that other
kingdom -- the one below the earth and below the belt -- that no
great rock band can lay claim to the title without.
Now Adam always strikes me as the professorial one, the
sophisticated member. He creates not only the musical but physical
stability on his side of the stage. The tone and depth of his bass
playing has allowed the band to move from rock to dance music and
beyond.
One of the first things I noticed about U2 was that underneath the
guitar and the bass, they have these very modern rhythms going on.
Rather than a straight 2 and 4, Larry often plays with a lot of
syncopation and that connects the band to modern dance textures. The
drums often sounded high and tight, and he was swinging down there
and this gave the band a unique profile and allowed their rock
textures to soar above on a bed of his rhythm. Now Larry, of course,
besides being an incredible drummer, bears the burden of being the
band's requisite "good-looking member" -- something we somehow
overlooked in the E Street Band. We have to settle for "charismatic."
The girls love on Larry Mullen. I have a female assistant that would
like to sit on Larry's drum stool. A male one too. We all have our
crosses to bear.
Bono, where do I begin? Jeans designer, soon-to-be World Bank
operator, just plain operator, seller of the Brooklyn Bridge -- oh
hold up, he played under the Brooklyn Bridge, that's right -- soon-to-
be mastermind operator of the Bono Burger franchise, where more than
one billion stories will be told by a crazy Irishman!
Now I realize that it's a dirty job and somebody has to do it. But
don't quit your day job yet, my friend. You're pretty good at it. And
a sound this big needs somebody to ride herd over it, and ride herd
over it he does. His voice, big-hearted and open, thoroughly decent
no matter how hard he tries. He's a great frontman. Against the odds,
he is not your mom's standard skinny, ex-junkie archetype. He has the
physique of a rugby player -- well, an ex-rugby player. Shaman,
scheister, one of the greatest and most endearingly naked messianic
complexes in rock and roll. God bless you, man! It takes one to know
one, of course.
You see every good Irish and Italian-Irish frontman knows that
before James Brown, there was Jesus. So hold the McDonald arches on
the stage set, boys, we are not ironists. We are creations of the
heart, and of the earth, and of the stations of the cross. There's no
getting out of it.
He is gifted with an operatic voice and a beautiful falsetto rare
among strong rock singers. But most important, his is a voice shot
through with self-doubt. That's what makes that big sound work. It is
this element of Bono's talent, along with his beautiful lyric
writing, that gives the often-celestial music of U2 its fragility and
its realness. It is the questioning, the constant questioning in
Bono's voice, where the band stakes its claim to its humanity and
declares its commonality with us. Now Bono's voice often sounds like
its shouting not over top of the band but from deep within it --
"Here we are, Lord. This mess. In your image." He delivers all of
this with great drama and an occasional smirk that says, "Kiss me.
I'm Irish." He's one of the great frontmen of the past 20 years. He
is also one of the only musicians to devote his personal faith and
the ideals of his band into the real world in a way that remains true
to rock's earliest implications of freedom and connection and the
possibility of something better.
Now the band's beautiful songwriting -- "Pride (In The Name of
Love)," "Sunday Bloody Sunday," "I Still Haven't Found What I'm
Looking For," "One," "Where the Streets Have No Name," "Beautiful
Day" -- remind us of the stakes that the band always plays for. It's
an incredible songbook. In their music, you hear the spirituality as
home and as quest. How do you find God unless he's in your heart, in
your desire, in your feet? I believe this is a big part of what's
kept their band together all of these years. See, bands get formed by
accident, but they don't survive by accident. It takes will, intent,
a sense of shared purpose, and a tolerance for your friendsÕ
fallibilities -- and they of yours. And that only evens the odds.
U2's not only evened the odds, but they've beaten them by continuing
to do their finest work and remaining at the top of their game and
the charts for 25 years. I feel a great affinity for these guys as
people as well as musicians.
Well, there I was sitting down on the couch in my pajamas with my
eldest son. He was watching TV. I was doing one of my favorite
things: I was tallying up all the money I passed up in endorsements
over the years and thinking of all the fun I could have had with it.
Suddenly I hear "Uno, dos, tres, catorce." I look up. But instead of
the silhouettes of the hippy-wannabes bouncing around in the iPod
commercial, I see my boys! Oh my God! They sold out!
Now, what I know about the iPod is this: it is a device that plays
music. Of course, their new song sounded great, my guys are doing
great, but methinks I hear the footsteps of my old tape operator
Jimmy Iovine somewhere. Wily, smart. Now, personally, I live an
insanely expensive lifestyle that my wife barely tolerates. I burn
money and that calls for huge amounts of cashflow. But, I also have a
ludicrous image of myself that keeps me from truly cashing in. You
can see my problem. Woe is me.
So the next morning, I call up Jon Landau -- or as I refer to him,
"the American Paul McGuinness" -- and I say, "Did you see that iPod
thing?" and he says, "Yes." And he says, "And I hear they didn't take
any money." And I said, "They didn't take any money?!" And he says,
"No." I said, "Smart, wily, Irish guys. Anybody, anybody can do an ad
and take the money, but to do the ad and not take the money, that's
smart. That's wily."
I say, "Jon, I want you to call up Bill Gates or whoever is behind
this thing and float this: a red, white, and blue iPod signed by
Bruce "The Boss" Springsteen. Now, remember, no matter how much money
he offers, don't take it!"
At any rate, after that evening for the next month or so, I hear
emanating from my lovely 14-year-old son's room, day after day, down
the hall, calling out in a voice that has recently dropped very low:
"Uno, dos, tres, catorce." The correct math for rock and roll. Thank
you, boys.
This band has carried their faith in the great inspirational and
resurrective power of rock and roll. It never faltered -- only a
little bit. They believed in themselves, but, more importantly, they
believed in you too. Thank you Bono, Edge, Adam, and Larry. Please
welcome U2 to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
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