As part of our ongoing investigation into Helena Christensen's indie pop credentials (card carrying member of the Arab Strap fan club, huge Belle & Sebastian fan - no we're not joking), LAUNCH found itself watching a BBC4 documentary on the supermodel turned celebrity snapper. In it, our girl revealed that when she photographed Bono, she insisted he remove his ever-present sunglasses. Mr Vox was a little bemused. "Insincerity is hugely underrated," he smirked. As long as he kept his shades on, he argued, he could be as insincere as he liked.
Twenty-four years and over a dozen albums into their career, U2 are now at the point where they're actually at their best when they're the most insincere. Track one, single one, "Vertigo", is an excellent case in point. Riding on a gloriously raw garage riff, chopped out with obvious glee by the man we still have to refer to as The Edge, it's all posture, no substance - all rock'n'roll fun, not a hint of global conscience. Your first thought upon hearing it is that U2 have somehow stumbled into an Indian Adolescence, fired up with testosterone and urgency, and that this is going to be their all-guns-blazing, teaching-the-young-uns-a-trick-or-two, comeback-and-a-half album.
Alas, no. As much as he might like to joke about clasping onto insincerity, Bono just can't help himself. He drips sincerity, oozes it from every over-emoting pore, imbues into every brow-beaten syllable, every trite generalisation and universal chord. And the more sincere he gets, the more prone to cant and cliché his lyricism becomes. "I want to hear you when you call/Do you feel anything at all?" he ponders on "Miracle Drug". "Lay down your guns/All your daughters of Zion/All your Abraham sons" in "Love And Peace Or Else" is his contribution to the Middle East peace process (well that was easy, why didn't anyone think of this before?). It's all so vague, meaning well but contributing little.
Musically, it's either U2 on autopilot, rattling through the epic-lite chiming songwriting style that's launched a thousand melodramatic outsider complexes over the years, or U2 thinking they're being awfully clever and subversive when they're actually nothing of the sort. With "Vertigo", the enjoyment's in hearing a band just having fun. On "Love And Peace Or Else", however, they clearly believe they've mastered the f*cked up blues of PJ Harvey just by whacking on a fuzz pedal and getting a little basic for a second. "City Of Blinding Lights" sounds so desperate to get on the soundtrack for "Lost In Translation 2" (Look! Ennui! Neon lights! C'mon…), it's embarrassing. "What happened to the beauty I had inside of me?" frets Bono, in full ho-hum mode. "All Because Of You" is The Dandy Warhols taking a fag break. "Original Of The Species" sounds like Oasis ripping off Embrace, with neither side coming off well.
There are moments. "A Man And A Woman" is a tender George Michael cover waiting to happen, a surprisingly effective rumination on desire and commitment. "Fast Cars" marries a relentless flamenco with Thom Yorke's information overload/paranoia. And even the songs that seem to be yet more of the same old U2 ("Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own", "Miracle Drug") have a grand sweep that's possible to admire even if there's not much love to speak of.
But mostly this is U2 trying too hard, caring too much, being too insufferably genuine without having anything to be particularly genuine about. Or as Bono himself says: "Some things you shouldn't get too good at/Like smiling, crying and celebrity". And: "Sometimes you can't make it/The best you can do is fake it". If only those shades had stayed on for a little longer.
