love u2, and it's electric - by paul angles

On April 8, 1987, at the Summit in Houston, TX, the world’s worst U2 cover band took the stage. They looked exactly like Bono, The Edge, Larry and Adam. They sang songs from The Joshua Tree and sounded exactly like album. They also played a few greatest hits from the previous albums. It was, of course, the actual U2, slavishly playing their own songs exactly as they’d been recorded.

The point here is not to knock one of the greatest bands ever for giving lame concert the one time I had tickets to see them. As neither a poet, a singer or a musician, I haven’t earned the right. Besides, even their unreleased B-sides album is so good that it put all but the very best of 80s to shame.

No, the point is that it’s hard to be as great as U2, even when you are U2.

Jeff Leisawitz’s Electron Love Theory is most definitely not U2 and does not try to be. And that’s a good thing because his electronic “tribute” album In The Shadows of U2 is not an album of covers or even a tribute in the traditional sense, but a deconstructing and reconstructing songs you’ve heard a million times into something incredibly brave and really, really good.

U2 songs break down into three components: Bono’s singing, The Edge’s guitar, and the poetic lyrics.

Bono, the quintessential front man, may be the face of U2 but The Edge is actually the voice. Leisawitz’s reconstruction, he substitutes Bono with different female vocalists on each of the 14 tracks. With very few exceptions, I honestly didn’t miss him. And because each singer brought a different style and vocal quality to each song, each jumped in unexpected ways. None of them can match Bono’s power, but they make up for it with emotion and nuance.

For example, Trish Shallest’s Bullet The Blue Sky was unnerving and effective in ways the original denunciation of the military-industrial complex never could. Allison Bazarko flipped I Will Follow inside out from The Boy Who Tries Hard To Be A Man to the Mother Who Takes Him By His Hand. The effect is positively Oedipal.

Wisely, I think, Leisawitz doesn’t try to match The Edge’s virtuosity note for note. Instead he mixes guitar and bass, drums and electronica loops into a more rhythmic support of the vocals, allowing his singers to step up and shine instead of competing with them. His tracks are richly patterned and layered, powerful when needed, but subtle and restrained much of the time.

More importantly, though, is that he allows the lyrics to shine in ways that U2, between competitiveness of Bono’s singing and The Edge’s playing, seem to forget. For the first time in years, I felt the loss in I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For and the hope on New Year’s Day. They were always there, of course, just buried under all that U2.

Of course, as always happens when you push the limits, occasionally In The Shadows of U2 comes up short. Sunday, Bloody Sunday without the ironic, faux militarism of the original just doesn’t have the same angry, anti-violence message. It’s just too soft and feminine.

In all, however, there’s a reason why In The Shadows of U2 is doing so well in the streets of Germany and Austria and is so highly regarded on iTunes. It takes incredible courage to take on rock legends and unbelievable talent to pull it off. Jeff Leisawitz has worked for years on this project and his persistence has paid off.

On a related note, I listened to U2’s new album. Once. Enough said.

Electron Love Theory website


In The Shadows of U2 on iTunes

Obamanation causing consternation in Hollywood

image courtesy carl johnsonSince Obama’s sweeping victory last November, a new form of panic has gripped the movers and shakers of Los Angeles: am I transparently liberal enough?

During the Bush years, it was easy. One simply had to hate Bush to be considered part of the tribe. A casual, caustic reference to Dick Cheney, a forwarded email of a Daily Kos diary, a Whole Foods shopping bag, or even a Hope sticker on the back of a BMW SUV was all it took to reassure co-workers, artists, and power brokers. “Trust me,” went the unspoken message, “I’m on the team.”

This facile liberalism is dead. Explained one agent at Creative Artists who insisted on anonymity, “These days, Rahm Emmanuel and his brothers are the political mainstream. So it’s not enough to just say I’m liberal. I actually have to be liberal and that means being more liberal than Rahm. And that’s the problem. I don’t know how.

“Fucking Larry David and Al Gore own the environment. Ted Danson owns the ocean. I can’t go Black without looking like a complete tool. What the hell else is left?”

In true Hollywood fashion, the rich and powerful are turning to the ones who keep them grounded, their connection to the Main Street, the ones who manage the mudane, their personal assistants. And in the highly secretive world of personal assistance, the word is out: find me someone, anyone, with genuine liberal cred. Now, dammit, now.

Already, there have been a series of high-profile moves in the personal assistant community and the pressure is mounting. “You worked for Tom Hanks? I’ll double your salary,” was what anonymous caller to an unlisted mobile number promised and was refused.

Another, Anneliese Gomez, had to cancel her Facebook account because word had gotten out that she was well-connected and agents were pursuing her, contracts in hand. With a background in painting, wardrobe, Habitat for Humanity, childcare, homeless outreach, at-risk programs, and landscape design, she covered the gamut of causes.

One of the few who would speak on the record for this article, Ms. Gomez is currently providing participation consultation to an actress, a director, and a TV producer, while simultaneously evaluating full-time offers. Her calendar is currently being managed by her assistant, Steve Beasley who unlisted his number and can now only be reached via Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=849645018.

“I suppose it’s going to be best for the country,” Ms. Gomez said, “when it’s all settled down and everyone knows their place in the social hierarchy. I mean we can’t ALL be Tim Robbins or Ed Begley, Jr., but we can all do our part. And that’s what I’m doing these days: helping people find their places.” In Ms. Gomez’s world, that means supporting the right causes, reservations at the right restaurants, leasing the right cars (Prius? Please, too obvious!), and even the right mate.

“One Producer I worked with had me evaluate headshots for him. He had pulled a dozen or so actresses to be Girlfriend 3.0, but wanted me to read the backs to see which he could take on a Sierra Club hike. Can you believe it? The first thing I told him was ‘you’re not taking ANYONE on a Sierra Club hike because YOU’RE not going on a hike.’ It just astonished me that he was thinking so retro. Does he not have a calendar?” She ultimately started from scratch and found an actress five years older to accompany him to the Golden Globes. It was the first woman over 25 he had ever dated. They were actually featured in a tabloid and a hemp advocacy group named them “Best-Dressed” in honor of their matching fiber formalwear.

“The key,” notes Ms. Gomez, “is to be realistic yet unexpected. If you’re 55 and overweight, no one is going to take you seriously as an advocate for children’s health. But if you’re 55 and overweight and a sharp dresser and have a reputation as a ladies’ man, you might make a fabulous activist for gay marriage.”

She put down her viola and began rosining her bow. (She had been practicing for a Pasadena Civic Orchestra concert.) “No one would expect to see you carrying a sign in front of the Mormon Tabernacle protesting Prop 8, but there you are. Might not get your next movie on Ellen, but it couldn’t hurt.”

Coping with this new reality has caused untold stress at home. Beverly Hills psychiatrists are reporting full calendars as the rich and powerful unload about their unfamiliar disorientation. “It’s like their whole world has been turned upside down,” said one doctor. “They don’t know where to go. Some have been randomly firing assistants and others have been randomly hiring assistants. I know that sounds business-as-usual, but it isn’t. It’s way more random than it’s ever been. These people are scared. It’s affecting their marriages. It’s affecting their affairs. It’s even affecting their jobs.”

While she obviously couldn’t name names, even her own, she was quick to point out that the ones who are succeeding in these turbulent times are “the ones who are grounded. The ones who have found someone to handle their affairs and tell them what’s up and what’s down. They’re absolutely stomping the ones who are floundering and it’s getting ugly. An absolute blood bath.”

Meanwhile, like the proverbial eye of the storm, Anneliese Gomez returns to her viola, phone on mute, completely at peace, calmly plotting the return to grace of a recently-disgraced actress. After trying to slip out of Ivy unnoticed where she had had a dalliance with a formerly-straight woman who wasn’t her wife, she was photographed at the valet station by the paparazzi. Rather than catch her in the act, the angle of the shot made it look like she was actually with a Fox news personality who happened to be picking up take-out. The resulting firestorm of criticism had swept through the tabloids and no one believed either her initial denials or the real story when she told it.

P.A.