For the past twenty years, U2 has navigated a period of creative turbulence, struggling to reclaim the singular magic that defined their golden era from the 1980 debut Boy through to the essential 90s releases Achtung Baby and Zooropa. Despite various attempts to evolve through pop-oriented projects, experimental shifts, major anniversary tours, and the re-recorded tracks on 2023’s Songs of Surrender, the band often appeared to be straining for a relevance that remained just out of reach. That long-standing search for direction ends with Carnaval de Luz, their first collection of entirely new material in nearly a decade. E ven artists who enjoy a seemingly unstoppable imperial period eventually seem to encounter spells of turbulence when the creative planets no longer align – which has been the story of U2’s last 20 years. Nothing has matched their earlier albums – especially that mostly uninterrupted golden run from their 1980 debut Boy to 90s benchmarks Achtung Baby and Zooropa, try as they might. Becoming more experimental, touring 1987 colossus The Joshua Tree again and even reworking old songs for 2023’s Songs of Surrender, but nothing has uncorked the genie again, or given the ban, they’ve tried going more pop. Often, it felt as though they were trying too hard.
The energy surrounding this project is palpable. With drummer Larry Mullen Jr. returned to his stool following medical challenges, the Dublin band sounds palpably rejuvenated and genuinely thrilled to be collaborating again. Building on the political foundations aired in February’s Days of Ash EP, Bono has positioned the 16th studio album as a pivot back to “loud guitars,” intentionally crafting a more defiantly joyful atmosphere meant to counter the anxieties of the current global climate.
This mission statement is established immediately on the opener, Go (Carnaval de Luz). The track utilizes electronically processed guitars, steady percussion, and Brian Eno’s signature synthesizers to frame a message of resilience: “A carnival of light / Illumination is the way to fight this.” Throughout the record, the band leans into spiritual metaphors more heavily than they have in years, occasionally channeling the sonic DNA of their classic past. On Street of Dreams, there is a clear sonic nod to their landmark anthems, while the hard-riffing La Reina evolves from a familiar Achtung Baby-esque energy into a haunting, hymnal mantra. It’s certainly no worse for that, if there’s a hint of Where the Streets Have No Name in the guitars of the not dissimilarly titled Street of Dreams. Similarly, the monster rock-riffed La Reina sounds like a distant relation of Achtung Baby highlight Even Better Than the Real Thing, at least until the songs veers off somewhere else entirely, into a beautifully hymnal mantra. “Nobody is alone, but nobody knows that,” sings Bono, in the manner of David Bowie’s “Oh no love, you’re not alone” coda on Rock’n’Roll Suicide, and just as effectively.
Lyrical depth remains a central pillar of the band’s identity. If the World Is at War We Better Not Be stands out as a reflective highlight, beginning with Bono’s personal memories of the band’s 1976 formation at Dublin’s Mount Temple school before expanding into an exploration of faith and the significance of ordinary life. Meanwhile, the Eno-supported The Greatest Show on Earth blends cosmic instrumentation with grand themes of love, God, and the industry, poised to become a stadium-ready staple. It starts with Bono reminiscing about the band’s beginnings at Mount Temple comprehensive school in Dublin in 1976 (“I was standing in the schoolyard / Waiting for you to happen to me”) and subsequently becomes a sublime.
While the album maintains a high consistency, it also showcases a playful versatility. The track Silencio offers a surprising burst of punk energy from musicians in their 60s, and The Mirror Maker serves as a lighthearted, call-and-response homage to Catalan superstar Rosalía. In the soaring Superficiality, Bono displays remarkable vocal range, delivering lines about freedom that underscore the band’s enduring earnestness. While critics may point to traditional Bono-isms regarding dreams and light-versus-dark imagery, these sentiments gain weight when backed by such impassioned, elevating arrangements. The driving Silencio is as convincing a punk rocker as it’s possible to imagine from very rich men in their 60s. In the ethereal yet rousing Superficiality, Bono hits notes that should put a chap his age in traction, as he sings “Freedom is a feeling, it’s a feeling that I have around you.”. The album has the usual bagful of trademark earnest Bono-isms like the above (“Don’t you give up on your dream … and your dreams won’t give up on you” is another), amid the broader light and darkness shtick.
A notable departure from their typical bombastic style is found in the graceful, understated atmosphere of songs like Glorify. The band also addresses modern instability within the sweet, pop-forward framing of Midnight Sunshine. The record concludes on a poignant note with Torn, a hymnal duet featuring the final vocal performance of the late Dolly Parton. Accompanied by Daniel Lanois on ethereal pedal steel, Parton delivers a somber message to a fractured world: “Nothing hurts a mother more / Than a family at war.” While some tracks from this year’s EPs were relegated to a deluxe edition, Carnaval de Luz stands as the band’s most compelling work in over 30 years, proving they are ready to engage with the world on their own terms once again.
