A Miracle of Sorts

My history with this, the greatest of all songs period, is long. I had just begun listening to U2 during my freshmen year of highschool, and as of yet had no idea how big of an impact they were to have on my life. My dad, who had seen U2 during their Unforgettable Fire tour and who was a fan, let slip that hit favorite U2 song was called Bad--a song I had never even heard of. Interested, I decided to check it out.

The first time I listened to Bad, I hated it. It was boring, slow, and weird. Unlike the other songs that had got me hooked--like Pride, Still Haven't Found, and Sunday Bloody Sunday, it seemed to have no melodic structure, singable chorus, or recognizable theme. I really couldn't make heads or tails of the song, and I was forced to conclude that U2 was just another band with a few good "radio playable" hits, but nothing else.

But something strange happened. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the song out of my head. I found myself forced to go back and listen to it, so I could hum the melody in my head all throughout long days at school. Though I still couldn't derive much sense from the lyrics, I found myself writing them down and mulling them over as if each word was a precious stone of some sort. While my obsession with Bad continued to grow, I found myself exploring U2's extensive catalogue of tunes with infinitely more excitement than I had at first anticipated. Soon, I had listened to every album U2 had ever put out in their entireties, and I had come to appreciate U2 for what they were: a band whose genius was not confined to "radio" songs only, but rather was expressed in each and every song.

One day, I came across a recording of U2's Live Aid Performance. Having not heard of the legendary act yet, I didn't know what to expect--but when Bono introduced the song in typical heavy irish accent after the incredible rendition of Sunday Bloody Sunday, I knew something special was about to happen. Sure enough, it did. I listened to that 12 and a half minute version of Bad about twenty times after I first heard it--and it was, to me, the most amazing thing I had ever heard. I still can't exactly explain why, but something about that performance seemed to tug at my heartstrings in ways I never thought a simple song was capable of.

Immediately after this, I decided to shell out 250 dollars to see U2 at the United Center on the May 12, 2005 date of the Vertigo tour. My seats were in the nosebleed section, but I didn't care...I just knew that I had to be at that concert.

After months of waiting, the day finally came. Most of the concert remains a blur in my mind today, but I remember two and a half hours of feeling, as Bono is fond of saying, "like my feet had left the ground", and two and a half hours not believing that I was actually in the same room as U2. There is one part of the concert, however that I remember with the utmost clarity. Having followed the tour closely, I knew that the band almost always closed the setlist with "40", preceded by "Yaweh." I couldn't have asked for a better show, but when the band reached this point I couldn't help but feel disappointed: they hadn't played Bad. Desperately (and perhaps foolishly), I sent up a little prayer that by some miracle, they would play it--just once, this one night, when I had come to see them, I wanted to hear the song that had changed my life. To my surprise, I saw the band meeting on stage; Bono seemed to be telling the band something. With all my might, I tried to scream and shout, all the way up from the nosebleed section way at the back of the stadium, "PLAY BAD!!!" Realizing this was futile, I directed all of my thoughts towards the stage, towards the band, saying over and over, "Please, Please just play Bad!" The Edge stepped back.... began to play the opening riff of Bad, and I nearly lost control. For the entire song, however, all I could do was stand and silently gape as the amazing euphoria that can only come from a U2 concert washed over me. It was, hands down, not only the single greatest musical performance I have ever heard, but one of the happiest and strangest moments of my life. For U2 to close with Bad, a move they had never done on the Vertigo tour up to this point, on that day when I was there and I had asked for and wanted them to play it so bad, was, in my opinion, a small miracle that I will never forget.