{"id":218499,"date":"2026-10-28T18:45:14","date_gmt":"2026-10-28T17:45:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/siteproxy.ruqli.workers.dev:443\/https\/recordcollectormag.com\/?p=218499"},"modified":"2026-10-28T18:46:06","modified_gmt":"2026-10-28T17:46:06","slug":"u2-carnaval-de-luz-review","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/siteproxy.ruqli.workers.dev:443\/https\/recordcollectormag.com\/reviews\/u2-carnaval-de-luz-review","title":{"rendered":"U2 | Carnaval De Luz | Album Review"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

You wait nine years and then two U2<\/strong> albums, sort of, come along almost at once. Earlier this year, six-track EPs Days Of Ash<\/em> and Easter Lily<\/em> effectively made up an album between them. A few months on, Carnaval De Luz<\/strong> emerges like the second half of a double album, its opening tearing off from the bridging blink\/miss tease at the climax of Easter Lily<\/em> closer COEXIST (I Will Bless The Lord At All Times?)<\/em>. Thematic connections resonate, with the EPs evoking Lent and the album the preceding carnival of the flesh. While that makes Carnaval\u2026 a prequel, it makes sense that it should follow Ash\/Lily, emerging as a determinedly energetic and uplifting \u2013 for the most part \u2013 answer to the EPs. A decade on from Songs Of Innocence\/Experience<\/em>, then, this year brings another study in fertile contrasts: U2<\/strong>\u2019s songs of introspection and celebration.<\/p>\n\n

However you cut it, the results offer a cheeringly fruitful flex from a band once thought to be creatively shot, struggling to define themselves in a changing rock landscape. Signs of self-rediscovery showed in shows devoted to The Joshua Tree<\/em> and Achtung Baby<\/em>, which latter turned the potentially cheese-on-top notion of a \u201cVegas era\u201d into a triumph. But it was the EPs that best upheld U2<\/strong> as a still active prospect, partly because songs like In A Life<\/em> and the fantastic The Tears Of Things<\/em> leaned into U2<\/strong>\u2019s core strengths rather than straining to court modern algorithms, Ed Sheeran misfire aside. And if Carnaval\u2026 can seem characteristically guilty of trying too hard to be all things to all modern U2<\/strong> fans, not least with its phalanx of collaborators (producer Jacknife Lee, EDM figurehead Martin Garrix and more), it also serves a flawed but fervent and full-bodied contrasting partner-piece to its sibling EPs.<\/p>\n\n

A sense of urgency propels Brian Eno-aided opener Go (Carnaval De Luz)<\/em>, which hares out of the traps like a galvanised motorik bullet train in a surprise show of Suicide-influenced energies. \u201cWelcome to tonight, a carnival of light\/Illumination is the way to fight this,\u201d sings Bono, setting out the stall for a record that uses light as a metaphor to combat modern shadows.<\/p>\n\n

If you forgot that U2<\/strong> spent much of 2023-4 revisiting Achtung Baby<\/em> in Vegas, La Reina<\/em> should remind you, riding the tail of The Edge\u2019s writhing riff to a soaringly exalted chorus in the spirit of Even Better Than The Real Thing<\/em>. \u201cLet\u2019s hear it one more time,\u201d sings Bono, \u201cfor the face of the future.\u201d If U2<\/strong> are to look backwards, it makes sense that they should look back to a period when they ripped up their rulebook to write fresh futures.<\/p>\n\n

Street Of Dreams<\/em> keeps the spritz up, evoking a later milestone in a bid to recapture the bottled uplift of Beautiful Day<\/em>. If Bono makes the error of treating the verses \u2013 his declamatory delivery lands clumsily \u2013 as a mere inconvenience en route to that point, the chorus at least summons the required buoyancy. But one or two other songs don\u2019t quite elevate as easily. The Mirror Maker (Rosalia)<\/em> extends an invitation to a brighter world than the one we occupy, but its clunky arrangement offers a somewhat smudged surface. Superficiality<\/em> attempts to celebrate simple cathartic pleasures, though Bono\u2019s lyrics are too on the nose for the job and his strained phrasing in the second verse lacks the impression of spontaneity the title calls for.<\/p>\n\n

Still, the infectious chorus suggests U2<\/strong> can still stick a melody when needed. And it\u2019s when U2<\/strong> engage such strengths that they achieve lift-off. Cut from the post-punk threads linking 11 0\u2019Clock Tick Tock<\/em> to Vertigo<\/em>, the brusque and punchy Silencio<\/em> packs a lot into its brief duration, terrifically well served by the band\u2019s component parts: the Edge\u2019s slashing riffs, Larry Mullen\u2019s bullishly sassy drums, Adam Clayton\u2019s fluent bass thump and Bono\u2019s all-in vocal gel tightly.<\/p>\n\n

The gentler songs are equally strong. If The World Is At War We Better Not Be<\/em> seems initially to stem from the same ungainly source as I\u2019ll Go Crazy If I Don\u2019t Go Crazy Tonight<\/em>, but the song itself is deceptively elegant, Bono reflecting on U2<\/strong>\u2019s purpose, origins and declared mission to illuminate grim times. Standout track The Greatest Show On Earth<\/em> (another Eno-assisted number) is similarly reflective and wistful, meditating on a life lived at the heart of a travelling spectacle \u2013 stained-glass cinema metaphors feature \u2013 and on what meaning, spiritual or otherwise, might be gleaned from that calling. As the Edge\u2019s guitar flickers behind Bono\u2019s warm vocal, its concert-ready glow feels earned.<\/p>\n\n

An appealingly exploratory lightness takes hold thereafter. The Garrix-produced Glorify<\/em> benefits from a lack of strain, offering a thoughtful declaration of damaged devotion.<\/p>\n\n

Midnight Sunshine<\/em> seems throwaway but its zesty spritz frames a welcome antidote to doom-scroll \u201ccatastrophising\u201d. Can\u2019t Stop Us Now<\/em> adds a chin-up show of intra-band unity, before the record ends on a tender high. A duet with Dolly Parton with Daniel Lanois on loving pedal steel, the gorgeous Torn<\/em> (written by U2<\/strong>, Parton and Johnny McDaid) is minimalist and fragile, perhaps more so than U2<\/strong> often allow themselves to be. It\u2019s as if Parton\u2019s cracked but forthright vocal gives them the confidence to strip themselves bare, before she and a humbled Bono summon disarming reserves of vocal firepower for the climax.<\/p>\n\n

The lyrics for Torn<\/em> detail family divisions, though they also hint at a metaphor for any internal ruptures, national, global or otherwise. For U2<\/strong>, the tension between their exploratory urges and appetite for the stadiums has seemed irresolvable latterly. A wide-reaching show of creative energies, Carnaval De Luz<\/strong> goes at least some way towards reconciling these extremes in theme and melody. Perhaps they have spread themselves a little thinly over this year\u2019s releases \u2013 one 12-track album forged from the EPs and Carnaval\u2019s best tracks could have landed a whopping comeback. Perhaps they won\u2019t succeed in re-applying for the job of best band in the world again, to paraphrase Bono from 25 years ago. But does it matter? They sound ambitious and engaged in their 50th year, swinging for the fences and hitting more targets than not. There\u2019s still some gas in the tank.<\/p>\n\n

Kevin Harley<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t

\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t