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pete
03-19-2005, 05:45 PM
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.

pete
03-19-2005, 05:46 PM
Bono's Acceptance Speech

Born in the USA, my arse! That man was born on the northside of
Dublin! Irish. His mother was Irish, the poetry, the gift of the gab.
Isn't it obvious? In fact, I think he's tall for an Irishman.

It's an Irish occasion this evening. Paddy Sledge...you know, the
O'Jays -- they're a tribe from the west of Ireland. This is a bit of
an Irish wedding. I mean, it is. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is
giving an Irish wedding. Beautiful girls, beautiful frocks, fights in
the bathroom, managers and clients arguing, lawyers with bloody noses.
It's an Irish wedding. It's a great occasion.

I even like it when it gets dirty, and I've seen it get really dirty
over the years here. That's what rock and roll is: the sound of
revenge. So make your enemies interesting, I would say, ladies and
gentlemen. But not tonight. When I -- when we -- look out into the
audience, we don't see any enemies; we just see friends. And this
country has taken this band into its bosom all the way from the very
beginning. It's an amazing thing.

Early on, there was a great friend, an Irish friend. Chris Blackwell.
What an incredible man he was to have looking after you. And could you
imagine your second album -- the difficult second album -- it's about
God? On the record, everyone was tearing their hair out. Chris
Blackwell wasn't. It's okay. It's Bob Marley and Marvin Gaye. It's
Bob Dylan. It's kind of a tradition. We can get through this.

I think about what Frank Barsalona said earlier about long-term
vision, because without Frank Barsalona and Barbara Skydel and that
kind of long-term vision -- [and] Chris Blackwell -- there would be no
U2 after that second album. We wouldn't have the songs. No "Beautiful
Day," no "Sunday Bloody Sunday," no "Unforgettable Fire," no "One,"
no "Where the Streets Have No Name," no "With or Without You." And
that's
the thing I want to take away from tonight. I would like to ask the
music business to look at itself, to ask itself some hard questions
because there would be no U2 the way things are right now. That's a
fact.

Only friends out there. Rolling Stone still places us on the cover of
the magazine. Thank you very much, Jann [Wenner]. MTV and VH1 still
play our videos. College radio still believes in our band and makes
our band believe in ourselves. It's an amazing place to be inducted
into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame feeling like this -- feeling like
you just put out your first album. It's a nice feeling -- a very, very
special feeling. And I see around friends and people that we've
worked with for a long time, and generally I don't do the big 'thank
yous'
speeches just because they're boring. Why stop the tradition of a
lifetime?


It's too many people in the room to thank, but I'd like to thank the
really gorgeous women that have worked for us for a long time because
they're fun to thank. Beautiful, gorgeous women that run Principle
Management. Ellen Darst, thank you very much. Sheila Roche, thank you
very much. Ann-Louise Kelly, thank you very much. Keryn Kaplan, thank
you very much. Regine Moylett, thank you very much. Beautiful, sexy,
sometimes Irish, sometimes American women, thank you.


Lots of bodyguards around here. No bigger bodyguards than Jimmy and
Doug. Jimmy Iovine and Doug Morris have continued in the tradition of
Chris Blackwell, which is letting us get away with pretty much
everything we want. So I want to thank them very much.


I'm trying to think of what else to add. The biggest bodyguard of all
has got to be our manager, Paul McGuinness, sitting right there. He's
the reason why no one in this band has "slave" scrawled on their face.
Paul McGuinness, thank you very much.


I won't go on, but just three Kodak moments over 25 years that I'd
like to share with you. One: it's 1976, Larry Mullen's kitchen. It's
about the size of the drum riser he uses now. It's a big, bright red -
- scarlet, really -- Japanese kit, and he's sitting behind it in his
kitchen. And he's playing, and the ground shakes and the sky opens up,
like Bruce was saying earlier. And it still does, but now I know why.
I know why -- because Larry Mullen cannot tell a lie. His brutal
honesty is something that we need in this band.


Second Kodak moment: I think it's 1982, New Haven, I believe. Things
are not going very well. There's a punk rock band onstage trying to
play Bach. A fight breaks out. It's between the band. It's very, very
messy. Now you look at this guitar genius. You look at this Zen-like
master that is The Edge, and you hear those brittle, icy notes. And
you might be forgiven for not realizing that you cannot play like that
unless you have a rage inside you. In fact, I had forgotten that on
that particular night, and he tried to break my nose. I learnt a very
great lesson: do not pick a fight with somebody who, for a living,
lives off hand-to-eye coordination. Dangerous, dangerous man, The
Edge.


Third Kodak moment: 1987, somewhere in the south. We'd been
campaigning for Dr. King -- for his birthday to be a national holiday.
In Arizona they're saying 'no,' and we'd been campaigning very, very
hard for Dr. King. Some people don't like it. Some people get very
annoyed. Some people want to kill the singer. Some people are taken
very seriously by the FBI. They tell us that we shouldn't play the gig
because tonight his life is at risk and must not go on the stage. The
singer laughs. The singer pffts, you know. Of course, we're playing
the gig! Of course, we go on stage! And I'm standing there singing
"Pride (In the Name of Love)" and got to the third verse. I close my
eyes. I know I'm excited about meeting my maker -- but maybe not
tonight. I don't really want to meet my maker tonight. I closed my
eyes and when I look up, I see Adam Clayton standing in front of me,
holding his bass like only Adam Clayton can hold his bass. And, yeah,
there's people in this room who tell you
they'll take a bullet for you, but Adam Clayton would have taken a
bullet for me -- and I guess that's what it's like to be in a truly
great rock and roll band.

Sarge's Little Helper
03-19-2005, 05:46 PM
Bono's Acceptance Speech

Born in the USA, my arse! That man was born on the northside of
Dublin! Irish. His mother was Irish, the poetry, the gift of the gab.
Isn't it obvious? In fact, I think he's tall for an Irishman.

It's an Irish occasion this evening. Paddy Sledge...you know, the
O'Jays -- they're a tribe from the west of Ireland. This is a bit of
an Irish wedding. I mean, it is. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is
giving an Irish wedding. Beautiful girls, beautiful frocks, fights in
the bathroom, managers and clients arguing, lawyers with bloody noses.
It's an Irish wedding. It's a great occasion.

I even like it when it gets dirty, and I've seen it get really dirty
over the years here. That's what rock and roll is: the sound of
revenge. So make your enemies interesting, I would say, ladies and
gentlemen. But not tonight. When I -- when we -- look out into the
audience, we don't see any enemies; we just see friends. And this
country has taken this band into its bosom all the way from the very
beginning. It's an amazing thing.

Early on, there was a great friend, an Irish friend. Chris Blackwell.
What an incredible man he was to have looking after you. And could you
imagine your second album -- the difficult second album -- it's about
God? On the record, everyone was tearing their hair out. Chris
Blackwell wasn't. It's okay. It's Bob Marley and Marvin Gaye. It's
Bob Dylan. It's kind of a tradition. We can get through this.

I think about what Frank Barsalona said earlier about long-term
vision, because without Frank Barsalona and Barbara Skydel and that
kind of long-term vision -- [and] Chris Blackwell -- there would be no
U2 after that second album. We wouldn't have the songs. No "Beautiful
Day," no "Sunday Bloody Sunday," no "Unforgettable Fire," no "One,"
no "Where the Streets Have No Name," no "With or Without You." And
that's
the thing I want to take away from tonight. I would like to ask the
music business to look at itself, to ask itself some hard questions
because there would be no U2 the way things are right now. That's a
fact.

Only friends out there. Rolling Stone still places us on the cover of
the magazine. Thank you very much, Jann [Wenner]. MTV and VH1 still
play our videos. College radio still believes in our band and makes
our band believe in ourselves. It's an amazing place to be inducted
into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame feeling like this -- feeling like
you just put out your first album. It's a nice feeling -- a very, very
special feeling. And I see around friends and people that we've
worked with for a long time, and generally I don't do the big 'thank
yous'
speeches just because they're boring. Why stop the tradition of a
lifetime?


It's too many people in the room to thank, but I'd like to thank the
really gorgeous women that have worked for us for a long time because
they're fun to thank. Beautiful, gorgeous women that run Principle
Management. Ellen Darst, thank you very much. Sheila Roche, thank you
very much. Ann-Louise Kelly, thank you very much. Keryn Kaplan, thank
you very much. Regine Moylett, thank you very much. Beautiful, sexy,
sometimes Irish, sometimes American women, thank you.


Lots of bodyguards around here. No bigger bodyguards than Jimmy and
Doug. Jimmy Iovine and Doug Morris have continued in the tradition of
Chris Blackwell, which is letting us get away with pretty much
everything we want. So I want to thank them very much.


I'm trying to think of what else to add. The biggest bodyguard of all
has got to be our manager, Paul McGuinness, sitting right there. He's
the reason why no one in this band has "slave" scrawled on their face.
Paul McGuinness, thank you very much.


I won't go on, but just three Kodak moments over 25 years that I'd
like to share with you. One: it's 1976, Larry Mullen's kitchen. It's
about the size of the drum riser he uses now. It's a big, bright red -
- scarlet, really -- Japanese kit, and he's sitting behind it in his
kitchen. And he's playing, and the ground shakes and the sky opens up,
like Bruce was saying earlier. And it still does, but now I know why.
I know why -- because Larry Mullen cannot tell a lie. His brutal
honesty is something that we need in this band.


Second Kodak moment: I think it's 1982, New Haven, I believe. Things
are not going very well. There's a punk rock band onstage trying to
play Bach. A fight breaks out. It's between the band. It's very, very
messy. Now you look at this guitar genius. You look at this Zen-like
master that is The Edge, and you hear those brittle, icy notes. And
you might be forgiven for not realizing that you cannot play like that
unless you have a rage inside you. In fact, I had forgotten that on
that particular night, and he tried to break my nose. I learnt a very
great lesson: do not pick a fight with somebody who, for a living,
lives off hand-to-eye coordination. Dangerous, dangerous man, The
Edge.


Third Kodak moment: 1987, somewhere in the south. We'd been
campaigning for Dr. King -- for his birthday to be a national holiday.
In Arizona they're saying 'no,' and we'd been campaigning very, very
hard for Dr. King. Some people don't like it. Some people get very
annoyed. Some people want to kill the singer. Some people are taken
very seriously by the FBI. They tell us that we shouldn't play the gig
because tonight his life is at risk and must not go on the stage. The
singer laughs. The singer pffts, you know. Of course, we're playing
the gig! Of course, we go on stage! And I'm standing there singing
"Pride (In the Name of Love)" and got to the third verse. I close my
eyes. I know I'm excited about meeting my maker -- but maybe not
tonight. I don't really want to meet my maker tonight. I closed my
eyes and when I look up, I see Adam Clayton standing in front of me,
holding his bass like only Adam Clayton can hold his bass. And, yeah,
there's people in this room who tell you
they'll take a bullet for you, but Adam Clayton would have taken a
bullet for me -- and I guess that's what it's like to be in a truly
great rock and roll band.

Oops. I wasn't paying attention. Tell me again what is going on.

pete
03-19-2005, 05:46 PM
Edge's Acceptance Speech

I am, in the end, the technology guy of U2, which, really, all it
means is that I can fix the printer -- but I don't tell them that.
Above all else, what U2 have tried to avoid over the last 25 years is
not being completely crap. But next on the list down from that was to
avoid being typical and predictable and ordinary, because it's so very
hard to avoid the clichés -- everyone else's, of course, but most of
all your own.

It's so hard to keep things fresh and not to become a parody of
yourself. If you've ever seen that movie "Spinal Tap," you'll know how
easy it is to parody what we all do. The first time I ever saw it, I
didn't laugh, I wept. I wept because I recognized so many of those
scenes. I don't think I'm alone amongst all of us here in that and,
you know, we're all guilty of taking ourselves and our work way too
seriously. We have all gone to hang out in a hotel lobby like we were
doing something really important. But the reason we're all here
tonight is that, in spite of all the clichés that do exist, you know,
rock and roll when it is great, it is amazing. It changes your life.
It changed our lives. Witness for instance, tonight, the O'Jays, Percy
Sledge, Bo Diddley, Eric Clapton, Buddy Guy, BB King, the Pretenders -
- I mean, amazing, really magic stuff.

You can break it down, uou can study it all you want, but you cannot
just dial it up. It doesn't work like that. As far as U2 goes, I've
stopped trying to figure out how -- or, more importantly -- when our
best moments are going to come along. But I think that's why we're
still awake. That's why we're still paying attention, and we know in
the end, you see, we know that it is magic. And so we end up waiting
around like if we all, sometimes, like actors in some Beckett play.
Just like they did in that "Spinal Tap" movie -- in the lobby --
waiting around, waiting for some magic to happen. We've done a lot of
that over the years, I have to say. I've done a lot of waiting with
Bono, with Adam and Larry and Paul for those moments to come along.

And we've had some brilliant people with us during those times: Steve
Lillywhite, Brian Eno, Daniel Lanois, Jimmy Iovine, Nelly Hooper, our
great engineers, Principle Management team that Bono's talked about,
Flood. Our show collaborators who've been with us from the beginning:
Willie Williams, all his team, our road crew -- fantastic people --
Joe O'Herlihy, Bucky, Jake, Dallas, Fraser (who isn't here), Stuart...
incredible people who we couldn't have hoped of going through the past
25 years without. And tonight it feels like it's just about half over
the room has been along with us on that journey. So I just want to say
thank you to my family for being so patient, my dad for showing me
showing me how, the rest of the band particularly, and tonight, you
know, for all of you, for this evening. And most of all for just
making space for me as we all waited together for something magic to
happen. Thank you.

pete
03-19-2005, 05:47 PM
Larry's Acceptance Speech

I promise I'll be brief. Thanks for this tonight. We really appreciate
it. It's very special. I feel like we've cut the line or jumped the
queue along the way, someplace along the way and never got out of my
kitchen in Artane, Dublin. Had it not been for people like the Sex
Pistols, Television, Roxy Music, Patti Smith -- these people are in
our rock and roll hall of fame. Thank you.

pete
03-19-2005, 05:47 PM
Adam's Acceptance Speech


I feel base-less. Okay, yesterday it was my 45th birthday. That's a
fine age to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. That
means 25 years ago, we released our first recording. That means 29
years ago, we all met and formed our band. Thirty years ago, I got my
first bass guitar or, as I thought, the guitar with only four strings.
I had no idea what a bass was. I had not heard of Duck Dunn, Jack
Bruce, John Entwhistle, or Bootsy Collins. I just knew that I had a
weapon and a shield to take on the world.


When we all got together in Larry's kitchen, we didn't know about the
great traditions of American music, we didn't know the blues or soul
or R&B or country -- but we did know that together we had a chance to
change the world by making a noise. This was punk and it saved my
ass.


We needed someone to get us gigs and to pay for demos. We met Paul
McGuinness and he became our manager. Next we needed a record deal. We
were turned down by many people until Nick Stewart offered us a deal
at Island Records. This was the start of a long relationship with
Island. Many people along the way helped us develop and grow.



We made three records with Steve Lillywhite, came to America where
Frank Barsalona and Barbara Skydel were our U.S. agents. They
introduced us to a network of promoters: Barry Fey, Bill Graham, and
Ronnie Delsner. Ellen Darst and Keryn Kaplan ran our U.S. office. They
taught us how radio and promotion worked.


As we were learning all this stuff about the music business, we were
also learning about American music and the kind of artists that are
honored here by the Hall of Fame: John Lee Hooker, BB King, Hank
Williams, Ray Charles, Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan.


Now our generation is being inducted, and our time has come to join
those that we did not know 25 years ago. I hope that in 25 years, when
this room is full of hip-hop and pop artists, that they will enjoy
joining the diverse list of talent that the Hall of Fame recognizes.


It took many people to get this band here tonight, and I would like to
thank some of them personally: Paul McGuinness, Ann-Louise Kelly,
Ellen Darst, Keryn Kaplan, Sheila Roche, Regine Moylett, Barbara
Galavan, Susan Hunter, Trevor Bowen, Gavin Friday, Chris Blackwell,
Anton Corbijn, Steve Lillywhite, Daniel Lanois, Brian Eno, Jimmy
Iovine, Doug Morris, Arthur Fogel and Michael Powell, Dennis Sheehan,
Joe O'Herlihy, Willie Williams, Sharon Blackson, Dallas, Sammy, Stu,
and Terry.


But in the end, the people who really got me here tonight -- and who I
must thank for everything I have -- are Ali, Anne, Morleigh, Suzie,
Larry, Edge, and Bono. I would really like to thank Bruce for what he
said and I, fortunately, can remember the names of everyone in the
band as well.

pete
03-19-2005, 06:00 PM
http://u2log.com/archive/inductionct1.jpg

Warham
03-19-2005, 08:47 PM
Larry was always the coolest one of the bunch.

Soul Reaper
03-20-2005, 06:21 AM
Those speeches must have been fuckin' long.