Sul nuovo disco degli U2 – il primo cd che compro da anni – temo di essere d’accordo con la recensione di Time: il primo pezzo – la title track – vale tutto il disco, che poi si spenge nell’onesta ascoltabilità.
No Line on the Horizon starts well. “I know a girl,” Bono screams on the title track, thrusting us into the familiar cosmos of a U2 hit. There’s the martial beat, the fickle female object of desire, the soaring inarticulateness — “Ohhhhhh/ Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh” — followed by the Edge chugga-chugga-chugging away on his guitar, chasing Bono up the scale note for note and yawp for yawp. It makes you giggle in amazement that the same old tricks keep generating new thrills.
Having set the bar high, U2 gradually limbos underneath it.The problem is that too often Eno’s tricks are the steak. Melody — the most surprising effect of all — dodges in and out but rarely makes itself at home, and all we’re left with is an increasingly dull series of tricks killing time where the tunes should be.
(oggi dalle nove del mattino – scusate il ritardo: dieci e mezza – lo mandiamo su Radio Wittgenstein, così giudicate voi)