Wow am I struggling to process the last two U2:UV Achtung Baby at the Sphere shows! It’s been a week and I am still so overwhelmed with emotion and all the goodness that happened there. So much so I just cried watching  this video of them singing 40 to close out the last show on March 2, 2024.

I don’t know why I did it. I’ve been in concert withdrawals and missing them fiercely since the moment they walked off that stage. I’m an emotional mess again. Why would I watch that video right now? What kind of masochistic torture is this?

I should know by now that my last show of a U2 tour (or residency in this case) will always have me reeling.

There is so much emotion in any U2 show – the excitement that’s built from the moment the tour dates were announced through the stress and elation of getting tickets and then the slow burn of waiting for show day. The euphoria of seeing them live, of being in that church of U2 again.

The pure joy of seeing old U2 friends you’ve made along the years of tours and social media, and of making new ones as you wait in line or attend fan gatherings.

That periphery of warmth from belonging, from arriving in a space where so many like-minded souls have congregated from around the world to celebrate this One love.

And of course, the overwhelming adoration of U2’s music itself.

But your last show – just multiply all that emotion by infinity. Your last show means all that, but is now also intensified by the celebration of an end and the inevitable crash from this highest high. You don’t know when you will see them live again. You don’t know when you will gather with so many of your U2 Family in one place. Or when you will have this level of this particular all-encompassing love surrounding you.

And when your last show is THE last show of the tour/residency, well, you also no longer have the safety blanket of other fans live-streaming the shows you can’t attend. You don’t KNOW when you will see them again. This is it. No more. You are cut off cold turkey from this love drug called U2 live.

And these days, somewhere in the back corner of your mind niggles this terrible little thought – we are all getting older, the band and us fans – this could be the LAST show. Like ever, ever. What if they don’t tour again, play live again??? It’s been almost 50 years of them. Larry’s already had to miss playing this residency because of needed surgeries. They deserve to retire. (Please don’t retire! I need some more!)

I am reeling. I miss them like I miss breathing. (I told you last time I was going to say this every time.)

The last show of a tour/residency is electric. In amongst all that angst of it ending and the unknown is a heightened level of celebration. And just as I am convinced U2 feel the joy of seeing their fans at first shows like we do in seeing them after an absence, I’m sure they feel the festivity and heartbreak of endings as well.

Let’s face it – it’s one thing to mourn the loss of seeing your favourite band on stage when it ends, it’s quite another to walk away from around 18,000 people screaming your name, singing your songs, and directing unabashed love and goodwill your way each night!

And these last two shows of U2:UV were also just so outrageously good. I wasn’t even going to go – I already had tickets to the February 18th show (which was to be the ‘Last’ show until these new dates were announced) and had already been to three in October.

But everything just fell completely into place for my friend and I to go to the March 1 and 2 shows instead of the 18th. Everything.

Like hard core easy as pie meant to be – fell into place!

And continued to do so throughout this entire trip – never have I been in the right place at the right time so much in my life.

The instant connections with new friends I made. Running into so many other friends I knew would be there but couldn’t cement plans with beforehand. It was a constant hug of people. Falling into place.

Finally getting to see the Cirque du Soleil Beatles Love show – Falling into place. (It was amazing! I cried. I oooo-ed. I ahhh-ed. I soaked in the fabulous technicolour 60s and 70s inspired costumes. I zoned into the music and was blown away by the Cirque of it all!)

Seeing My Boys

Leaving that show only to find texts telling me to run to the nearby Zoo Station Exhibit’s outer door because U2 are inside and should be leaving any time. Falling into place.

I used to carry a sharpie in my purse at all times for such spur of the moment possibilities, but Covid life and the band not doing their usual meet and greets at the venue has me out of practice. No Sharpie, no pen.

No problem. I still got to see 3 of my 4 musical loves of my life (4 of my 5? – I still miss Larry, he’s irreplaceable, but Bram now has a special place in my U2 heart) and even got to shake Adam’s hand. (That man has the best hair ever!)

Wait… Pause just a moment… I need to let that soak in more. What just even happened? I just saw Bono off stage, for the third time in my life! Right there in front of me (well behind a few other people). I just saw the Edge, whom I have never seen off the stage. And Bram, who made it possible for my boys to play while Larry heals. I just – I just shook Adam’s hand! What. Just. Happened!?!

There’s falling into place and there’s falling into the right place at the right time!

“We have to stop at Walgreen’s,” I tell my friend when the blanket of exhilaration and bewilderment wears down a little and we take first steps away from this experience. “I need to buy a Sharpie for my purse.”

In Lines and On The Rail

Before I can even attempt to process seeing the boys and shaking Adam’s hand, things continued to whirlwind into place. This time with some hard work and good fortune leading to a spot on the rail for the March 1 show. Into place like it was meant to be!

There are few, very few, people I would get up for at 4AM that are not my family and friends having emergencies. In fact there are just five – four of them are in this band (if you know me, or read this blog, you can probably guess who the 5th is.)

But this, this I will do for U2 GA. GA is a bonding experience like no other. It’s an intense trial of will and determination. For the March 1 show, it meant checkins the day before and then standing or sitting on cement or large rocks from 4:30am until 8:30am or later on show day when the venue gave us our numbered wristbands; and then again from 4pm until they let us in the building. It meant being outside in the elements for those hours, no bathrooms nearby, only the food, clothing, comfort, and entertainment you bring with you.

And the older we get, the harder it becomes. How much water do you need to drink to stay hydrated but not so much you have to go to the bathroom every hour? For those who live in the venue city or rent a car, maybe you bring folding chairs, sleeping bags. Otherwise you must balance comfort with what you can carry, what you are ok buying, and all that you must leave behind after the doors open.

Once the venue lets us in and gives us the GA bracelet, we walk – don’t run (mostly), battle – politely (mostly), for spots on the rail, making quick decisions based on ever-changing information as more people push past you. Where will be the best view?

Do you want Bono’s area front and centre where most people try to go, especially for this show now that Bono started coming off the stage and leaning into the crowd (oh yes he did!).

Or Edge side? Or Adam and Bram side – especially for March 1 and 2 where there are rumours Larry may join the band on stage (Oh no he didn’t!).

Once you are on the floor, you still have hours to go. Hours before the show starts, and hours of actual show. Stamina and willpower are mandatory here!

However taxing, this process – the long morning check-ins, the afternoon line, and once you’ve grabbed your spot on the floor – is where you bond with those around you going through the same trials.

You commiserate together the wee hours but speculate the dream of rail, of seeing our boys no matter where on the floor you end up. You reminisce previous shows, and ‘hey, I was at that one too!’

Fans walk around with water and food to share, with buttons, things from your hometown, and this time because its Vegas – poker chips with U2 on them, and this time, yes, friendship bracelets a la the Swifties’ movement.

On the floor, you cement those friendships. Yes, you just battled for prime real estate, but now you laugh in relief, and celebrate your stamina for getting you there. You look around and make plans with each other to take turns going to the vendors for nourishment and bathrooms (because you have been in line for a lonnnnng time and your bladder is bursting).

It’s not just luck that my friend and I end up on the rail, Adam side, near the front corner, but certainly the universe lined up opportunities I am ever so grateful to have been given. The way things fell into place from the start and through to this particular spot on the floor felt like they were meant to be.

And those who played a role in my rail experience this time – I hope you see this and know how thankful I am for you. Seeing U2 anywhere will always be a gift to me, but being there on that rail with you – you made my night.

The thing I love about live music is the chance to meld with it to the nth degree. I mean, I can meld with CDs, radio, video, sure. But live music, and live music from the rail – it just reaches parts of my heart and soul otherwise unattainable and I lose myself in it. Or maybe I become the most myself.

There, on rail, I feel connected with my true self and yep, to some level with the band on stage as they deliver that music from their hearts and souls to ours. Those fleeting moments of eye contact. Singing out that love and passion as its sung to us. This is my happy place. My drug of choice.

FYI, Larry didn’t come out and play – but he was there that night and Bono moved us with his speech to Larry, leaving us exuberantly applauding him and chanting “Lar-ry! Lar-ry! Lar-ry!” at the top of our lungs.

This moment got me. Straight to the heart.

My camera broke just before Bono laid down on the stage right in front of me, but this too felt like things falling into place. I loooove taking photos at concerts – clearly – I even have a blog to display them after all. And my heart broke a little that my camera chose this day and this moment to die on me.

I took a few shots with my phone but then thought – hey take this opportunity to truly see this moment – not through the lens, but just as it unfolds right. there. in. front. of. you!

So I did.

(I mean, with these few iPhone photos to help) and it was beautiful, intimate, and poignant.

I still missed my camera though… (My camera, which miraculously healed itself overnight and was fine for the final show up in the 400s!)

And although I thought this night could not fall into place more perfectly, a setlist, folded up tiny, was slipped into my unsuspecting hands (by AJ, my friend tells me after – Bono’s cousin and one of the crew) as we lingered on the rail after the lights went up, unwilling to leave the moment. And then a guitar pic makes its way to me too, one of many handed out to fans by Dallas, Edge’s guitar tech.

What is even happening this trip!?!?

What else can go right !?!?

The Last Show

This night, March 2, 2024, began with a blight on the screen – a small section that didn’t work, that became a larger section that didn’t work. We could see the flashlights of people behind the screen madly trying to fix it. We joked with the guy next to us, for them to be up that high in the sky, it must be Tom Cruise on his latest impossible mission.

The show was delayed as a result but it didn’t even occur to me that this might be a sign my Las Vegas good luck from the first couple of days has dried up.

This too felt meant to be. A chance to inhale, to observe the mammoth that is the Sphere from our spot tonight in the 400 level. To chat with those around us – are those birds really real? (no)

To take the joys as they come and appreciate them – like the crowd wildly applauding when they finally fix the screen.

The unencumbered joys of the final show.

This night, this last night, U2 brought none other than Daniel Lanois on stage for One. Daniel Frickin Lanois!

This night, Bono sang a snippet of Landlady. And a bit of Yellow by Coldplay, then wished their lead singer, Chris Martin, a happy birthday.

Turns out Tom Cruise and the IMF weren’t in the building, but the Secret Service were. This night, Bono dedicated All I Want is You to women everywhere and to Dr. Jill Biden, First Lady, who was in the house. (So was my sister’s fav – Dave Grohl of the Foo Fighters!!)

This night, Bono told us they sang Don’t Dream it’s Over the other night for Yulia Navalnaya, widow of Alexei Navalny, and then Crowded House’s Neil Finn sent a recording of him singing an updated version in her honor. This night, Bono had us, the audience, sing the chorus along with Neil’s version.

This night was truly epic. Those emotions, overwhelming. The music, moving. Don’t dream it’s over. It can’t be over.

Then Beautiful Day – the show closer, that beautiful surrounding screen of sun bursts and insects and animals.

They end the song and take their bows, pretending to end the night. But no, instead, this night – the dream many fans dream of.

40.

Instead, they pick up their instruments again and they go and sing 40. 40 on this the last show, my last and their last show at the Sphere! This song. This song that means sooo much to the fandom.

40.
It’s a simple song. A singing of Psalm 40 from the bible.

But it is a song steeped in ritual and tradition when played live. It is the song U2 consistently closed all of their concerts with for years and years. And always (mostly?) they end the song and the show by walking off the stage one at a time while the crowd sings on. Bono first. Then Adam. The Edge. And finally Larry, who began the band, ending the song. Beating out the drums. Then one last BAM. He stops. And stands. And leaves. And the crowd sings on and on.

How long, how long must we sing this song?

It’s a beautiful and always moving ritual and when the band stopped ending their concerts with this song, the fans often sang it ourselves en masse as we left whatever venues we were in. That tradition carried on through us and for this night, the last show of the Sphere, fans started talking on social media about ending the show with this song again.

This last show is the 40th show at the Sphere. How more appropriate could it be? “If they don’t sing it, we will” was the battle cry. Bring signs, start singing when they bow. If they don’t, we will!

But they did. They did sing it. Oh how they sung it!

And planned to do so enough in advance for it to be printed on the set list and for Bram to know it perfectly. And for the Beautiful Day imagery to change into colours, just for this song.

They inclined and heard our cry.

How long, how long must we sing this song?

The fervour with which the audience sang this song back to U2, always, but this night – I cannot even try to describe with words.

There are moments in a U2 show that just floor me, including the power of the thousands of fans of all levels of devotion singing the same song, jumping in unison. The rail is one thing, but sitting far up at the top and end of a venue has its plusses too – and seeing the crowd move as one, love as one. Just wow.

40 is that moment here. 40, the encore after the encore – any other song and this is the moment when so many people at a concert start to leave in droves. Gotta beat the traffic, catch the transit, whatever the reason. It’s such a thing that sometimes musicians jokingly call it out (Harry Styles, I’m looking at you! – “Hey you, don’t leave, I’m not done yet!”)

But 40 this night, and the vast majority of people are staying where they are, singing at the top of their lungs.

How long, how long must we sing this song?

How long, how long?

And then Bono puts his mic in the stand and turns it around to us. He leaves the stage, waving good-bye. Then Adam. And the crowd sings on.

How long, how long must we sing this song?

Just Edge and Bram now. Bram, beating the drum, then BAM. One last Bram. And he stands. And leaves.

And then it’s just the Edge. Still playing his guitar as he walks away.

And the crowd sings on.
And on.

How long, how long must we sing this song?

How long? How long?

How long can we sing this song? I want forever.

My heart is still so full from this whole trip. The love, the friendship, the music.

But, Oh, the withdrawal!

It’s ok. I’ll be ok. Where’s that video? Maybe I’ll try So Cruel this time…