The Frank Sinatra performance that charmed Bono: “It was like seeing my first punk gig”
What makes an artist cool is a funny concept. There are traditional and borderline cartoonish tropes that we associate with coolness, mostly from a young age. Like permanently worn sunglasses and slicked back hair, à la Bono. Or there’s innovative cool, the sort that borders on the esoteric and jarring, but is cool for its originality.
In this instance, think David Bowie.
Both seem to work in the cultural zeitgeist, but arguably, I’d lean towards the second reference point as the true essence of cool in music. While many have adopted the former approach, Bono is arguably the pin-up boy of the permanent sunglass crew, and all I can ask is, is he really that cool?
There’s no doubting their influence on music, especially the idea of commercial rock. From their very first release, they garnered public acclaim, which snowballed by the time their seminal 1987 record The Joshua Tree was released. By the time that album hit the shelves, they were a band destined for the heights of stadium rock.
The success of that album became somewhat of a tipping point for the band, pushing them through a commercial door that shuts upon entry. From there on, the band became somewhat like Marmite, adored by the sea of dedicated fans, ready for a singalong, and ridiculed by those who feel as though their authenticity had been compromised.
Bono’s self-indulgence doubled down, and he fully embraced the Hollywood mould that had been awaiting him. And so the Irish frontman’s cool card didn’t quite wield the power it once did. But as U2’s records flew off the shelves, they began to swim in more socially elite circles, rubbing shoulders with titans of the industry who had mastered the art of cool commercialism.
In a story that was a far cry from the dingy punk gigs the band cut their teeth in, Bono recalled a story of just how cool one legend really was. “There was a big charity do for Frank Sinatra. I mean, he was performing at it. The tables were like $25,000 a table, but we got in free. And you know, I was sitting about a yard from Frank’s foot, and it was one of those nights, the singing was just perfect, and I was blown away. It was like seeing my first punk gig.”
Sinatra was a transcendent performer, one who epitomised the traditional sense of cool. He was the figurehead of American entertainment opulence, the sort that was beginning to hypnotise Bono and his bandmates, as they understood the true essence of big-stage showmanship. But in case they had any questions about what it was that required being an engaging mega star, Sinatra luckily gave them a first-hand preview.
Bono concluded, “In fact, in the middle of it, he stopped the show and introduced us, and when we stood up, in the spotlight, Frank just looked and said, ‘Number one in America, got your face on Time magazine, but you didn’t spend a dime on your clothes.’ So we thought, as well as being great, he’s also pretty cool.”
