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9.3 (out of 10) / Best New Reissue

The first song on 1984's The Unforgettable Fire is called "A Sort of Homecoming"-- not just "A Homecoming". And that shade of uncertainty-- that "sort of"-- is key. Compared to U2's first three albums-- and almost everything that has come afterward-- The Unforgettable Fire is marked by a sketchy in-between-ness that works as a gracious foil to the the band's natural audacity. It's sort of stadium rock, sort of experimental, sort of spiritual, sort of subdued, sort of uncharacteristic, sort of brilliant, sort of a classic.

After their first major breakthrough with 1983's War and its anthems "Sunday Bloody Sunday" and "New Year's Day", U2 could have easily continued to perfect the fist-pumping, flag-waving arena battle cry. Instead, they sought out producer Brian Eno, a bold choice for a band looking to parlay semi-success into something Springsteen-ian. While Eno is now seen as a go-to stadium savior (see: Coldplay's Viva La Vida), back then he was still the guy who coaxed magnificent weirdness out of David Bowie and Talking Heads, to say nothing of his own work, which ranged from prog-rock insanity to elegant wallpaper. The U2/Eno braintrust has since become one of the most out-and-out successful in rock history, but The Unforgettable Fire finds the pair-- along with frequent conspirator Daniel Lanois-- feeling each other out and testing limits. The album ebbs and flows along the spectrum between the spiky, post-punk U2 of old and the impressionistic, Eno-assisted U2 they were yearning to become.

By Graeme McRanor, Vancouver Sun

Reportedly, U2's 360 tour requires anywhere from 120 to 189 trucks and busses to haul its giantclaw-like stage and the 500-strong crew needed for the production around North America.

Add to that the bands private jet and its 70,000 miles logged over the course of the two-year, worldwide tour and, well, thats a pretty substantial carbon footprint.

However, if we're to believe the spin from a certain American music rag, the timing for such a colossal greenhouse fart couldn't be better.

After all, with the world mired in its various crises, they argue, what better time to tour with such an audacious, irresponsible rock spectacular?

Los Angeles Times

"Enough of the folk mass!" declared Bono during U2's historic Rose Bowl performance Sunday, leading his band and the nearly 100,000 fans in the stadium out of a singalong and into a dance party. The 49-year-old singer/activist/life of the party has been making such quick metaphorical turns for much of his life, fronting a band known for transcendence but hardly immune to sensual pleasure.

Usually, Bono and his band mates travel from prayers to come-ons on the force of charisma and a sound that's ascendant and sleekly funky, structured around the Edge's stretchy guitar parts and Bono's dirty-faced choirboy cries. But for this tour, U2 has adopted another mode of transport: the four-legged circular stage rig known as the Claw, or the Space Station. This contraption is an extravagance with a big carbon footprint and an even bigger price tag. But in Pasadena, it proved worth every Euro, allowing this most ambitious rock band to genuinely reconfigure live pop performance.

Plenty of artists have played in the round, built multi-tiered sets and spent time roaming through the crowd on ramps or trapezes. But the Space Station (Bono's preferred term these days) changes the architecture of the live concert. It not only puts the stadium audience closer to the band, it cuts holes in the fourth wall between star and fan, creating a feeling of immersion and communal connection that's startling in such a huge venue, and that translated differently in person than it could have on YouTube, where the concert was streamed live.

By Randall Roberts in Last Night, LA Weekly

It was cool. It was a big Happening with flashing lights, lots of color, inspiration, 100,000 people screaming along in unison, moved by the pure ... spectacle of it. If we were in North Korea, these songs would have been about the Supreme Leader and we would have all been flashing colored placards in unison rather than putting on masks of Aung San Suu Kyi or waving our cell phones in the air. The comparison fails for any number of reasons, but it is true that when you stick this many people with a shared enthusiasm into the same space, the power of it is overwhelming -- and can be a little scary.

But we're in America at the gosh dang Rose Bowl, so the big-ticket mass happening is not trippy North Korean dancers but an Irish rock band with a charismatic lead singer, beautifully enormous love songs, a BlackBerry sponsorship and a lot of money to put on a high-tech power sucking extravaganza that delivers a noble and honest message of peace. Songs from the heart, to the People, for the People. To heal them. To inspire them. Everything is going to be all right.

By Jason Bracelin, Las Vegas Review-Journal

Sixteen songs in, he spelled out the theme of the evening -- and maybe even that of an entire career -- over a mean-spirited beat hard enough to make Play-Doh out of spinal columns.

"The right to be ridiculous is something I hold dear," U2 frontman Bono boomed as if his innards had been replaced with dynamite. GRADE: A

by Larry Rodgers, The Arizona Republic

Irish supergroup U2 used the biggest stage in rock to try to connect with tens of thousands of fans at University of Phoenix Stadium during the band's stop in Glendale, no matter which zip code they were sitting in.

"We built this spaceship to get closer to you," singer-activist Bono told the enthusiastic crowd Tuesday, Oct. 20. "We were looking for intimacy on a grand scale."

The impressive scale of U2's 360 Degree tour was accomplished with a four-legged stage dominating most of the south end of the stadium. The structure's 150-foot pinnacle nearly touched the edge of the stadium's open roof.

A cylindrical video screen that opened to 14,000 square feet made images of Bono, guitarist the Edge, bassist Adam Clayton and drummer Larry Mullen Jr. was visible in all corners of the stadium. A massive sound system blasted the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame band's music into stadium hallways and restrooms.

By Chris Gray in Live Shots, Houston Press

A day or two before U2 (and love) came to town, a friend emailed us a joke. At least we think it's a joke. It really doesn't have anything to do with U2, except that it has everything to do with U2.

"I was so depressed last night thinking about the economy, terrorism attacks, World War III, global warming, my retirement savings, Social Security, my job, national health care and my credit card debt that I called Lifeline.

"Got a freakin' call center somewhere in Pakistan. I told them I was suicidal. They got all excited and asked if I could drive a truck."

In a concert that stretched from the International Space Station to the strife-torn streets of Tehran to a would-be martyr under house arrest in Myanmar, but never left Houston for a second, U2 owned the 60K-strong crowd at Reliant Stadium Wednesday night before (we'd wager) 80 to 90 percent of them even knew exactly what they were hearing.

By Mario Tarradell, Dallas Morning News Music Critic

ARLINGTON - U2 is the quintessential stadium rock band.

We don't need further proof of that. But if we did, Monday night's show at Cowboys Stadium certainly would serve as enough evidence. More than 70,000 people witnessed the North Texas stop of the Irish group's 360 Degrees Tour. The floor, which was standing-room-only and surrounded the mammoth stage, was an ocean of human beings.

Then we have that platform contraption. Let's call it a spaceship merged with a spider, its four claw-like structures flanking a circular riser and an outer ring. The two were connected by movable bridges. Above the band was a spectacular rotating video screen that extemded into a funnel-like cloud constantly lit for maximum effect.

Orlando Sentinel

When Desmond Tutu and a guy literally in outer space only qualify as extras, it's an understatement to call U2's 360º Tour a big production.

Everything about Friday's two-hour show at Raymond James Stadium in Tampa was out-of-this-world in stature. It started with the attendance, a record crowd of more than 72,000 that exceeded this year's Super Bowl turnout.

And the numbers are equally astounding for the smoke-belching, "spaceship" stage that occupied about half the field. The 170-ton contraption came equipped with giant runways, rotating walkways, massive claw-like arms to support more than 200 speakers, a giant circular video screen and a spire that poked toward heaven.

It's called the "spaceship," but that nickname became more than just figurative when Bono introduced a video segment with Cirque du Soleil founder and current space tourist Guy Laliberte.

St. Petersburg Times

TAMPA -- On an otherworldly stage that looked as if it could snack on the Death Star, and in front of more than 70,000 screaming, singing, stinking fans, four middle-aged dudes from Dublin once again gave us ample reason to unload hosannas and hyperbole.

Life-affirming. Transcendent. Just when we needed "em most.

Was U2's record-setting show at Raymond James Stadium on Friday perfect? Nope. Was it the best local show of the year? Maybe, maybe not.

But therein lies the magic of Bono & Co. They don't do concerts. Oh no, my brethren: They host revivals, rallies. They excel at rock and redemption, pop and proselytizing. Merchants of possibility, they gave out great gobs of hits and hope at a time when paying the electric bill is a contact sport.