With forty-years hindsight, a discerning listen to U2’s debut album, Boy, (released 10/20/80) reaffirms a notion the Irish quartet has ridden the momentum generated by this first album of theirs through much of their career. Audacious as it was at the time, it remains so, an eye- and ear-opening statement of style that, for all intents and purposes, ushers in a collective voice that’s remained focused and constant even as it’s been aimed in slightly different directions over the years, at times to greater or lesser effect.
The fact the album was originally issued with two different covers does not represent any ambivalence on the part of the band or any lack of consistent purpose. Quite the contrary, for if the thought Boy would make for an evocative piece of cinema hasn’t occurred by the time the quartet finish hurtling through “I Will Follow,” by the time “Twilight” concludes, it may be impossible not to consider that idea. The ominous drama of The Edge’s electric guitar foreshadows the revelation of Bono’s dual personae of ‘boy meets man in the shadows’ and, most appropriately, sets the stage for “An Cat Dubh” (“The Black Cat”): the suspense in his playing of dissolved as it became stylized to a fault, but during “Into the Heart,” it resounds in all it’s glory.
As does the lead singer’s voice. And yet producer Steve Lillywhite refused to put undue focus on the vocalist in his mix, a wise move as it allows Bono’s phrasing, even without echoed overdubs, to disperse more widely, as it does on “Out of Control.” That said, it’s arguable at this point if the man eventually parodied on South Park could reach such exalting heights without the drive of drummer Larry Mullen and bassist Adam Clayton behind him; the rhythm section booms as it swoops under The Edge as the three instrumentalists generate a sonic maelstrom on “The Electric Co.”
The deeply introspective nature of songs on here such as “Stories For Boys” borders on identity crisis by the time “A Day Without Me” appears. And while both in their self-referential way are a far cry from the topical bent of this band’s breakthrough album, War, they’re not that far removed from the most famous tunes off The Joshua Tree, i.e., ”I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.” It’s not exactly a straight line from Boy to Achtung Baby over a decade later, but even so, the digression to The Unforgettable Fire makes perfect sense: the Brian Eno/Daniel Lanois-produced album presages (and sets up a vivid contrast with) the stripped-down likes of How to Dismantle An Atomic Bomb. Notwithstanding a foundation of acoustic guitars, “Shadows and Tall Trees” looms ever so much larger from a forty-year perspective.
The 2008 reissue of Boy carries only a little less of the impact hearing the album back when it was originally released forty years ago. Certainly the band itself has evolved in the decades since—and, some would argue, not wholly in positive ways: can you say automatic album download?—but while this Island Records debut can be a bit melodramatic, the unself-conscious urgency of the writing, singing and playing comes through loud and clear in comparison to early versions and remixes of tunes and performances that would ultimately comprise the 1980 LP.
The fourteen tracks on the 2008 bonus CD contain most of the idiosyncrasies of punk of the time, not the least of which are the stilted structure of material like “Out of Control” and the fey performance of on “Twilight.” Fascinatingly, given how Bono’s visibility rose over the years, the sound of The Edge’s guitar is the dominant trait of these recordings, as on the final version of the studio album, even beyond the instrumental “Things to Make and Do.” Otherwise, this is the sound of a young band, like many of their peers of the time like the Dead Boys, processing their influences, ranging from the Who to David Bowie then on to the Joy Division (whose producer Martin Hannett was first considered instead of Lillywhite).
It’s not altogether surprising U2’s follow-up, October, was not the same purposeful declaration of identity as its predecessor. Forget the side-stories about Bono losing his collection of lyrics prior to recording: the quartet might well have found it necessary to step back in order to step forward this early in their career anyway, just as they have subsequently done during later stages (to occasionally less positive effect—see 1997’s Pop). The quartet’s somewhat halting progression in its initial studio work then makes the live recordings on the bonus disc indispensable: it was on stage the band experienced most of its growth at the time and these versions of “Gloria” and “I Fall Down” find the band actually embracing its growing pains, their embrace of maturity all the more prescient from what’s now a four decade perspective.
