Tom Dunne: Achtung Baby signalled that U2 were going to be the next U2

It was the question that dogged the Irish music scene for years. With a brilliant album in 1991, U2 showed why it wasn't worth even asking

U2 as they appeared on the cover of Achtung Baby in 1991. 

U2’s Achtung Baby turns 30 this week. It was the album that proved The Joshua Tree was no fluke. It has since divided fans into two camps: those who prefer the purity of The Joshua Tree and those who prefer the devilish fun of Achtung. Naturally, I am in neither camp.

I am in a camp marked ‘Those Who Were Also in a Band at the Time of U2'. This is not an easy camp. It is a camp of bitterness and division. Many in this camp were once labelled 'The Next U2'. History, that cruel mistress, has since revealed that U2 were in fact the next U2, and the U2 after that as well.

Being contemporaries of theirs was not easy. If was as if kids, pretending to be astronauts, had suddenly noticed that four of their number had actually built a real spaceship and gone to the moon. We were still making whooshing noises with our mouths. U2 were on another planet.

My best mate had been the first to spot U2’s enormous potential. His main job was rating other Dublin bands. I’d name one and he’d, invariably, say, “Shite.” When I said “U2” he said, “Particularly shite!” before adding, “but I’ve only seen them as The Hype, not since they became U2.” But then we saw them, supporting Patrick Fitzgerald, in the Project Arts Centre. They were good, but after their gig someone played a pre-release of their debut single, U23, over the PA. Its three tracks transfixed us. I We looked at each other aghast. It was far from shite. It was spectacular.

This was the beginning of my U2 fandom. I queued for the Dandelion, followed their progress in the UK, bought every single I could. I watched nervously when they finally made Top of The Pops. If they had stopped at that point they would have already exceeded my wildest expectations for them. But, obviously, not theirs.

A few years later, as the U2 ascent continued, I was with members of Aslan in a club on North Great George’s Street when we heard Pride for the first time. It’s the same riff on the verse as on the chorus. I looked at Aslan. Aslan looked at me. “It’s the same riff,” we all said.

It seems like a small thing now, but no other Irish band would have thought of that at the time. Page one of the song writer’s handbook states, ‘Make the verse and chorus different.’ What page were U2 on?

The cover of Achtung Baby.

The day they made the cover of Time Magazine I almost crashed my car. I’d been driving on Baggot Street. I had been telling the world and its mother they’d be big since 1979. But this was Stones big, Beatles big! This was bigger than big.

Their success was a shot in the arm for every Irish band. “Look what can be done!” it said. Bands all over Ireland doubled down: They wrote more, they played more, they believed more. Soon, band after band, ourselves included, were being signed.

By 1990, as many of these were delivering truly great albums, things had gotten interesting in the U2 world. Some small fissures started to appear in the U2 edifice. Rattle and Hum had not been universally loved. People were admitting to a little U2 overload. U2 Mark 1 appeared to have run its course.

In the world of Something Happens, our second album had topped the charts, our Irish tour had sold out and damage (through enthusiasm) to the seats at Cork Opera House had made the front page of the national papers. We were even voted Best Irish Band in Hot Press, an award that up to this was the absolute preserve of, well, you know who.

In 1991 as we rehearsed for our third album in The Factory, Dublin’s main rehearsal facility, U2 set up camp in its biggest room. Incredibly as it may seem at this point, expectation was low around what would be their seventh album. There was talk that they’d been having problems.

I still remember the moment. Ray, our guitar player, and I were walking down the long corridor that led from the canteen. As we walked the Edge started to play what would become the opening riff to Mysterious Ways. It reverberated against the walls in all its epic, awesome glory.

I looked at Ray and Ray looked at me. We felt the air leave our lungs. So, U2 weren’t going away after all!