Featuring one of U2’s most recognisable songs does not necessarily make a memorable album. Rattle and Hum must contend with being lost in the mix between The Joshua Tree and Achtung Baby. Two defining pillars of that U2 sound, with a break in between for the band to twiddle their thumbs and catch their breath. Opening a song and admitting to stealing it from cult leader Charles Manson, who stole it from The Beatles, Bono claims, is a bold move. It’s also the meaningless comment Bono would become known for when trying to prop up charitable acts with on-stage progressivism. His forward-thinking attitude has waned in recent years, and he now remains unconvincingly quiet on topics of real importance. Throw it back thirty years, and the band would comment and cover everything they could. Rattle and Hum is a hybrid album. A chance for the band to showcase their live strengths and studio sound.
You cannot discredit the boldness of such a concept, though the lack of foresight is remarkable. Of course, the tone and tempo of the album is going to be all over the place. From a tame live cover of Helter Skelter into the unconvincing, ballad-like drift of Van Diemen’s Land, U2 are not at their best here. But they should be. There was never a better time for U2 to begin experimenting with their studio and live work than here, but the performative actions they took to get to Rattle and Hum are remarkable misfires. Recording across the United States and tying themselves to the history of each area simply by being present in the same studios as other legends is what they do. They do not bring any work across Rattle and Hum, which would suggest they are of the same quality. Small boots in big footprints is how to look at Bono and the band, trying to slide their way into the same studio Elvis Presley and Johnny Cash used. Desire is the first moment of interest, and one of the few.
Rattle and Hum is troublesome for all the wasted potential it features. Bono sounds exceptional, The Edge and the rest of the band offer an instrumental stability they would lose permanently at the turn of the century. The Edge would argue after the release of Rattle and Hum that people turned on the album because a “scrapbook” project turned Hollywood. But when the so-called collection of memories was set to feature Bob Dylan on a collaborative track he later asked to be removed, Prisoner of Love, it is hardly a small-scale affair. It explains a dull All Along the Watchtower cover though. Each song sounds as though U2 wants it to be the next big break. Hawkmoon 269 has that hopeful, floaty sound which would become a staple for their songs, featuring once more on Pride (In the Name of Love) later on the album.
Pop-rock earnestness would sink Rattle and Hum. It’s the sort of overwhelming sincerity which goes so far beyond conventional care that it feels inauthentic. Coldplay suffers the same problem. Unremarkable songs like Freedom for My People and Silver and Gold also feature, though do not offer much more than pop-rock stock. That live reliance, an initially bold structure for Rattle and Hum, proves futile. Just do a hits selection instead of feeding in some studio fodder, none of which can hold a candle to the decent live material featured throughout. Angel of Harlem sounds like it lifted the guitar of Like a Rolling Stone, but it does mark a moment of success for the Rattle and Hum project. A song that sounds live, but is from the studio. It’s what U2 aimed for, and that much is admirable. It just falls to pieces on them. Ambitious attitudes, but stock live fodder to drag it all down. Still, worth sticking with to hear Love Rescue Me, as sincere as it is staggering.
