Let’s get this out of the way first: concert at Invesco Field at Mile High on Saturday was the biggest single-artist musical event to hit Denver in a long, long time. Maybe ever.
Few would dispute that, but it’s important to note that the volume and intensity of fan love at the show rivaled anything this writer has seen. As my colleague, and Denver Post pop music critic Ricardo Baca, said in his review, “Can any other band pull off a stadium tour in the U.S. right now?” ()
The music industry has been in a well-publicized and inexorable shit-spin lately, so this kind of spectacle is cause for public celebration. Perhaps not at European music festivals, which have long been showing the world how it’s done.
But in the States, and especially in Denver (a town that has seen the demise or pause of biggies like Monolith and the Mile High Music Festival), it’s a big-budget, all-out anomaly. Coachella, Bonnaroo and their ilk be damned. This was the first time so many people packed a public space since Obama’s feel-good rallies back in 2008.
And the tailgating scene was strong — if a bit squeezed — due to U2’s gaggle of buses and tech trucks (12 and 47, respectively). It almost felt like a Broncos game. Or at least a Broncos game where Cherry Creek lizards in cowboy hats and spangled shirts occupied the folding chairs instead of burly bros in Tebow jerseys. The cacophony of U2 songs blasting from various car stereos was at times bewildering, and especially amusing when side-by-side vehicles played dueling (and notably off-time) versions of the same song simultaneously.
This wasn’t your average Red Rocks show from a crusty, wildly popular jam band. This was a full-frontal carnival of middle-class white folks cooking up hot dogs and guzzling microbrews.
Of course, this was also a U2 show, so the social justice element was strong. Dozens of volunteers roamed the stadium’s exterior with iPads and clipboards, gathering signatures and trying to raise awareness about various issues. In addition to Amnesty International and other groups, Bono’s One campaign employed about 20 young, eager souls ready to fill their digital petition quota.
“I was in (Washington) D.C. about a month ago for this organization,” said Eric Magnuson, a 21-year-old CU-Boulder student who approached me near the U2 T-shirt tent. He had gathered about 50 signatures as of 6 p.m., which wasn’t bad when dealing with a sea of inebriated concert-goers.
Speaking of the merch table: Holy friggin’ crap. I’ve never seen so many people trying to Hoover up $40 tank tops and $75 sweatshirts with cash money. The overwhelming majority of shirts at the show (as seen in my album of iPhone snapshots at the top) were newer ones from the band’s 2000s tours. But here and there I caught some vintage gems, like one curly-haired dude’s “Joshua Tree” beauty, which he apparently only busts out once or twice a year and cares for like a Bonsai tree.
It’s understandable. People embrace shows of this magnitude like drunken, long-lost cousins, and with all the attendant behavior that implies. Forget the $8 beers and clipboard distractions. Folks gathered in hordes to wait for Bono to greet the crowd at the stadium’s south entrance (and he did, graciously, taking pictures with them and shaking hands). They had heated discussions about which U2 album kicked the most ass. They hugged and cried and cried some more.
It was a homecoming in a way, since the band had played the beloved original Mile High 14 years ago this month as part of its PopMart tour. And it felt like a big-deal event, with a news helicopter circling the stadium’s perimeter, and the phalanx of photographers surrounding the stage, even when local openers the Fray started their set.
But more than anything, it was an overdue reason to gather and sing and drink and dance to the world’s most notoriously cool/insufferable rock stars. The biggest and most colorful one to hit the Mile High City in memory? Yeah.
.
.
Follow our news and updates on , our whereabouts on and our relationship status on . Or send us a telegram.
John Wenzel is an executive editor of and an award-winning A&E reporter for The Denver Post. He is the author of (Speck Press/Fulcrum) and maintains a of completely random song titles and band names.
