I Want It Louder: Poem For The Edge—By PJ

Headlock (watercolor, manipulated at Photomosh.com) by Kelly Eddington, 2018. Based on a reference photo by Inchicore.

I Want It Louder: A Poem For The Edge

PJ DeGenaro

This is the sixth U2 birthday poem I’ve written under the shadow of Covid-19. I’m not generally a pessimist, but the last year-and-a-half has taught me that a sizable chunk of humanity simply does not care about anything but going barefaced into Hooters and yelling about being oppressed. 

We’re better than that, of course. We’re U2 fans. At some point between 1976 and today, we found ourselves drawn to a band that cares about everything, so much. And the sonic architect of that band is a brilliant, beautiful man called The Edge. The title of this awkward poem is self-explanatory. Happy birthday, Beautiful Edge.

I Want It Louder

When we started it was hard to get The Edge to play aggressively. He is a gentleman and he plays guitar like a gentleman. — Bono, February 1982

There’s no time to be a gentleman

In this filthy rioting dying world

Why are you holding back?

Take it in your hands, feel the heft

Let it sting your fingertips

Throw it down, kick it across the deck.

I want it louder

Loud enough to drown out death.

Look, I know it’s not easy

Steering your boat through the widening gyre

Between shoals of spangled pop stars. 

Every year, fresh spawn in the net

Face-tuned, auto-tuned, barely legal, nearly nude

You shake their hands

You give them their trophies.

You are a gentleman.

It’s a lifetime achievement.

But now I want you louder

Like banging on pots at seven o’clock.

I’ll take you in my arm like a shot.

I’ll take the pain; I don’t give a fuck.

Last night I dreamed a cacophony of cop-cars

Blockaded this city in the night

And you took off your hat and let the lights 

Make a glowing planet of your naked head.

So take this in your hands, feel the heft.

Come on love, is this rock and roll? 

I want it louder

Loud enough to drown out death.