MANILA, Philippines - I’ve been alternately hating and liking U2 since 1987 and couldn’t remember which side of the fence I was on anymore until their latest album, “Songs of Innocence,” was uploaded into everyone’s iTunes library and caused such Internet fury that Apple was forced to create a special delete button. I haven’t listened to it. I haven’t willingly listened to a U2 album since “Achtung Baby,” actually. “Songs of Innocence” is still sitting there in my rarely-used iPad1, ignored and obsolete, much like U2 in the past 20 years of my life. But this huge business blunder has forced me to think about their existence once again.
By forcing U2 into our personal gadgets, Apple forced U2 into our lives. It’s one thing to say, “You can get this album for free,” and quite another to go in people’s rooms and cram the album into their shelves, which is what Apple virtually did in this case. People’s devices are their private rooms: it is where their carefully curated music, videos and naked selfies are housed. The semi-outrage that rocked the Internet this week was hardly an overreaction. It is just what happens when one invades the same fake personal worlds one has created.
The most valuable currency in the digital age is free will. Apple’s biggest miscalculation was its overestimation of the “free gift.” It’s true that the Internet traffics in “free” information, but what Apple failed to realize is that the free stuff isn’t nearly as important as the freedom with which we navigate through them. Anyone loves a free gift, sure. But everyone would also love the freedom to say, “Nah, thanks.”
Apple could’ve just easily released “Songs of Innocence” as a free download. Only fans would’ve gone for it, which could’ve spared them from thousands of complaints from non-fans. Instead, they tried to be cute. The world was not amused.
OVERT ENDORSEMENT DEAL
What was initially advertised as an act of altruism by U2 was eventually revealed as an overt endorsement deal — Apple paid $100 million for the album rights, so technically, they were the ones giving it away for free. U2 has been helping Apple sell its gadgets since 2004, but this latest stunt wasn’t just a case of a band fully embracing commercialism, but rather of a band losing whatever charm it had left. Beyoncé can release a surprise album and sell it, not only because she’s confident, but because she allowed the buzz surrounding last year’s “the visual album” to do all the selling. She was operating in a highly commercial setting but was still able to generate interest organically.
While people intuitively accept commercialism in music, they still feel queasy when it is presented in its naked form. “Selling out” is okay as long as it is packaged in the illusion of authenticity. U2, with its complete lack of subtlety, only came off as desperate.
That’s not something “the biggest band in the world” would do. To begin with, “the biggest band/artist in the world” does not exist anymore. The fragmented culture brought about by the Internet makes this notion unfeasible. But this whole mess began precisely because U2 believes that it is still holds that antiquated title. Frontman Bono looked at the possibilities of digital music and saw only the narcissistic indulgence of social media, his free songs akin to shirtless pictures no one asked to be posted on their feed. He wanted to get their music “to as many people as possible” without even asking if they wanted it because they’re U2 and everyone loves U2. Right?
Ever since their “return to form” in 2000’s “All That You Can’t Leave Behind,” U2 has been universally loved. At least that’s the story the media has been sticking to for years and that we have somehow absently accepted as truth. U2 is the biggest band in the world because they’ve remained excellent and intact for over three decades and because Bono cares deeply about starving children in Africa. No one seriously questions this notion because U2, as a musical entity and as a concept, is too uninteresting to inspire deep scrutiny. Then, this week happened.
MYTHICAL INFALLIBILITY
Bono unwittingly engineered the dismantling of his own band’s mythical infallibility by foisting it on the world. Instead of just letting the myth perpetuate itself quietly, he has roused those who hate U2, those who think they’re overrated, and those who do not even know who they are. How tragic it was to see the myth of U2’s universality and permanence in the culture shattered by countless “Who the hell is U2 and what is it doing in my iTunes?” tweets over the week.
This isn’t how it was supposed to go. U2 was supposed to release another album that was supposed to get either favorable or respectfully dismissive reviews that nevertheless come with the caveat “their legacy is secured.” Instead, they now exist in a new reality where their name is a worldwide punchline and where rapper Tyler, The Creator can tweet: “Having the new U2 album on my iPhone was like waking up with herpes.”
It is a new reality that makes me rethink a legacy I had stopped caring about since the ‘90s. What is their legacy anyway? Do they even have a multi-generational anthem? Were they even the biggest band in any year? Were they even really good? Or are they just the greatest self-promoting band of all time?
I didn’t want to think about these questions. Now there’s no way to delete them.
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