Berlin. Autumn. 1990. The Berlin Wall is falling, crumbling and chipping away under the crowbars and sledgehammers of those opposed to it. The world watches, twitches its head, and wonders, “What does this mean?” Musical group U2 arrives looking for inspiration amid the deconstruction of the Iron Curtain. Bono says it would be a good way for the band to bring in the new world, to find a new well of energy that comes from unique moments when revolution, creation and inspiration meet. A city divided in on itself into East and West seems to be a fitting parallel to a band divided. Two on two; Bono and the Edge experiment with the industrial, pioneering sounds coming out of the underground movement while Larry Mullen Jr. and Adam Clayton are claiming the rhythm is the source from which they need to drink. The clock above the production booth in the studio moves through seconds and hours without mercy. Frustration permeates through the chords, vocals and tape loops of the genesis sounds of a tentative, antsy, possible future album. Four friends, artists and dreamers at heart, decide if it comes down to U2 or the friendships, U2 will have to go.
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The tension and diffusion of ideals in Ogden is by no means the same degree of that which occurred in Berlin more than a decade ago; however, if I dare say, I think the emotions are quite similar. From here in the glorified titlechair of assistant editor, I get to see the successes and failures of small business owners. Usually those experiences are quite close to the office. Frustration is one word that comes to mind, hopelessness with the “way things are” in Ogden.
In moments such as these, more than one type of inversion hangs over the city. An inversion of cold, yes, but also of ideas, ambitions and people. The weatherman is on standby to tell me when the cold inversion will dissipate. Not that I listen; it happens when it happens. As for the other types of inversions, we’ll need more than a blue screen. Some discoveries you have to make yourself. Ogden, or any place for that matter, changes because the people do. Often I think we expect the opposite to happen—for the nation, new president, the city, or friends, to change us. Of course, since we are a dynamically reasoning species, it is only natural. I love waking up a different person than I was yesterday. It is one of the finer things: being able to look back once in a while at the past. What other creation gets to do that? We see our mistakes and triumphs swirling and stirring in a soupy memory of what we have or have not done. The more difficult challenge comes in comparing ourselves now against who we used to be AND seeing the difference. Berlin, nor U2, is the same now as it was on that day back in 1990. Street Magazine is not the same now as it was a year ago.
Creativity burns and leaps from us like solar flares. During some of the evenings in the last week or so, I’ve been able to look up at the sun (safely and not too long, of course) and see the haze and fog diffusing the light to a bare minimum. It makes me think about the hazy fogs that cloud our own minds and judgement. Eventually it all evaporates. Sooner or later. Eventually, one morning during the studio days in Berlin, U2 woke up and wandered into the studio at different times, in different moods. One by one they hit that mystic moment when they found themselves in synch; they knew what the other was thinking, and knew that the song “One” they were creating was pivotal. They also knew they could go on with the rest of the album, without holding back. I’ve held back before and I’m quite sure I will continue to do so; it is only natural. I can’t help but feel I live in a city that is holding back as well.Dason Smith, Assistant Editor and writer for STREET Magazine since 2002. He can be reached at dason@streetmagazine.net.
