Every U2 Album, Ranked From Worst to Best

After an almost three-hour listening experience, my reaction to this one is simple: who is this for?

Critics were decidedly non-plussed by it. It underperformed commercially. At the time of its release, it seemed more of a companion vanity project to help sell Bono’s memoir, a really strange book in its own right. In other words, if you’re going to double-back on your catalog to showcase how strong your songwriting used to be, why package it like this?

Some of those critical reviews I mentioned position this quadruple LP (ugh) as “more than an acoustic greatest hits,” … but that’s precisely what it is, no? It’s not uniformly strong enough to be a reinvention of the source material. It’s more like a soft recontextualization for the AC/AOR audience.

When big arena rockers and intimate ballads get reduced to Starbucks background music, I don’t call that more powerful or enthralling. I call it a shameless bit of legacy management.

To clarify, this isn’t the forced iPhone album. We’ll get to that one shortly.

This record is what came after and, musically, it was more of the same, but even less inspired. What’s frustrating is that U2 gives you brief glimpses into how tight they can still sound when they’re all not actively phoning it in. A track like “The Blackout,” featuring a delicious Adam Clayton bassline, is a prime example of maybe two or three songs that fall into the this-isn’t-that-bad category.

But, and this theme will recur throughout this post, the band can record this type of record in their sleep. There’s little on the line for any of them, and when this album shifts into autopilot mode, they sound like they know it, too.

There is no artistic risk and, therefore, no listener reward.

Ah, yes: the iPhone album.

That headline-grabbing faceplant kind of obscured how odd an album rollout this was. It included a presumptive lead single, “Invisible,” that was left off the LP’s tracklist nine months later. The Edge called the digital auto-add on Apple devices a very “punk rock” moment for them, while CEO Tim Cook tried to position it as the “largest album release of all time.”

It was supposed to be this watershed moment turned into a bit of a PR disaster that Bono inadvertently exacerbated when he insisted that, no, the band had been paid for the album and not given it away for free. It sounds like an odd hill to die on morally in the streaming era

Anyway, the music here is whatever. The production from the likes of Brian “Danger Mouse” Burton and Ryan Tedder bring pop-leaning electronic flourishes that, in fits and starts, make for an interesting listen. The closing 15 or so minutes are the best material here, mainly “This Is Where You Can Reach Me Now” and “The Troubles.”

But there’s also a strong sense of unease at work here. It’s as if U2 were unsure whether they should be looking back or forward stylistically. It’s not a calculated reinvention like Achtung Baby (not a dig at that 90s release, by the way), nor is it a full-on nostalgia play.

Instead, it’s about 60% bland and 40% engaging or semi-engaging material. Not awful by any means, but not close to a masterpiece, either.

There’s no other way of describing Rattle and Hum: This album is a mess.

What puts this record ahead of the ones I’ve mentioned already are the studio cuts, which held up better than I expected them to. “Desire” remains among U2’s best singles, while the guitar tone and vocals on “Angel of Harlem” are enjoyable, even if they’re more than a little bit cheesy. That cascading effect in the second half of “All I Want is You” is also an excellent production choice.

But, my goodness gracious, the live performance inclusions range from squarely mid to downright cringe. Bono’s random monologuing, sometimes in the middle of a damn song, is a misguided move that pulls your attention away from the band’s playing and forces it onto his White Savior-ing.

Like, tell me what I’m supposed to do with his aside on opener “Helter Skelter:” “This is a song Charles Manson stole from the Beatles, and now we’re stealing it back.”

Released just a year after The Joshua Tree, it’s apparent that the outsized commercial success was already starting to weigh U2 down musically.

From the heights of their sparkling debut to … this. Let’s call it a sophomore slump.

Don’t get me wrong, there are a few engaging moments on this record. “Gloria” is a lot of fun, and “I Threw a Brick Through a Window” is one of the more underrated stadium rockers in the group’s arsenal. If anything, it’s clear they were asked to rush another LP out of the studio because of Boy’s unexpected success.

As a result, the songs here all feel a little … forced, maybe? Stilted? One-note?

Considering the three records that come right after this one (no spoilers on where they rank), these tracks are mostly forgettable. There’s energy, there’s attitude, but it’s like running on a treadmill—working up a sweat without actually getting anywhere.

Which of these U2 albums is your favorite? Any ranking you’d rearrange? Sound off in the comments.

In this post, I’ll continue my journey through U2’s discography as I rank every studio album from worst to best. This portion of that countdown is the second of three parts, the last of which will be published in the coming weeks.

If you missed Part 1 of the U2 discography ranking, I’d recommend starting there before continuing past that divider line. Also, a quick callout to share and subscribe to the newsletter if you’re enjoying the content and want to help grow this fantastic online community of music savants.

Let’s go:

This record was initially pretty divisive. Some publications heralded it as an instant classic, while others described it as undercooked (to put it charitably). Overall, it’s an interesting period for the band, partly because I’m not sure fans and casual music consumers alike could articulate what they wanted from a new U2 album.

After a strong start, that ambivalence showed up in the LP’s sales numbers, which fell well short of those of its two immediate predecessors. I think this is an important distinction because, at times, you can hear Bono and company chasing the commercial success they’d enjoyed up to that point and dropping the ball in the process.

For example, “Get On Your Boots” is a thinly veiled attempt to recapture some of that “Vertigo” crossover magic, while “I’ll Go Crazy If I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight” is a riff on their turn-of-the-century soul material. Some other strong moments are scattered throughout this tracklist, including “Magnificent” and “Breathe.” That said, there’s too much copy-pasting going on sonically for anything to be memorable.

A positive, though: This album was supported by the record-setting U2 360 tour, which grossed $736 million in global ticket sales.

When I first heard this record, I remember being disappointed. Not because the material here is uniformly lackluster—some songs are genuinely intriguing and exciting—but because there’s an almost constant hint at a much better album hidden under all the schlock.

Pop gets saddled with the reputation of being U2’s “dance record,” but I’m not sure that’s an apt description. Most tracks geared for repeated club plays are full of hooky moments that immediately suck you onto the dancefloor. For the most part, this LP is content to keep the listener at arm’s length, sometimes purposely skirting opportunities to, ironically, craft massive pop anthems.

The highlights are quite impressive, however. “Mofo,” “Discotheque,” and even elements of “Miami” deserve better supporting material. In a perfect world, they’d have a stronger foothold in the band’s touring playlists in recent years. Unfortunately, hackneyed choices, like on “The Playboy Mansion,” water down the listening experience.

Also, a sidebar: Does any U2 fan actually take this seriously as a parody of club/excess culture? It’s not like the band would seriously consider throwing in the political activism towel to let loose in the club, which means the premise isn’t all that believable as a joke, either. Maybe I’m overthinking it, but that ideological throughline kept nagging at me while revisiting this one.

Uno, dos, tres, bad Spanish translation!

Sorry. I had to.

Anyway, How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb was a critical and commercial hit, believe it or not. It sold over 9 million copies worldwide, was responsible for eight Grammy wins for the group between 2005 and 2006, and was named the best album of 2004 by publications like USA Today and the New York Times. The supporting Vertigo tour, which spanned 131 shows around the world, brought in nearly $400 million at the box office.

That means it should be a great sonic experience, right? The answer is more complicated than that. U2’s singles tend to be well-chosen and, in this LP’s case, conjure up rosier memories of an inexplicably bloated tracklist, particularly in the second half. I can’t deny that “Vertigo” and “City of Blinding Lights” are slam-dunk stadium-sized anthems. Even a cut like “Love and Peace or Else” is better than I remembered.

But from “A Man and a Woman” on, it sounds like the band is on autopilot. You have to wonder if they were padding the album’s runtime a bit years before that practice became much more commonplace in the streaming era.

To summarize, this record marks the beginning of the “it’s fine” era of U2.

Let me ask the question that’s been gnawing at me up front: Is this the last great U2 album?

All the signifiers support the answer being a “yes.” There has been a generally positive critical response, over 12 million copies have been sold to date, and the tour was the top-grossing tour of 2001. But if you break this LP down track by track, I can’t help but wonder if it’s also the start of the band’s decline into the corporate AOR murk it currently floats in.

I went back and forth on where to place this record on this list because there are some genuine triumphs here, especially in the quieter moments. “Stuck in a Moment” and “Wild Honey” are soulful pop cuts that make me wish they’d do a full-on R&B record someday. It would suit Bono’s sensibility as he’s gotten older, too.

“Beautiful Day” and “Walk On” are fine, I guess? They’re also solid singles but cheesy to the point of being inextricable from that distinction now. When they first came out, I’m sure I felt differently, especially about the former, but after being the music bed for an untold number of advertising campaigns, they’ve worn out their welcome for me.

Oh, a few words about “Elevation” before we move on—it still kicks ass, too.

I’ll give U2 this: They burst onto the 80s alternative rock scene almost fully formed with Boy.

I give this record the nod over the few that have come before it in this post because of how exciting it sounds to this day. There’s an urgency in their arrangements and energy that have all but evaporated from their discography, which is why this album, perhaps more than any other, reinforces how arresting those beginnings were.

The track everyone will likely remember from this LP is “I Will Follow,” a classic rock radio staple in my hometown growing up. The opening guitar riff that gives way to Larry Mullin Jr.’s huge-sounding tom hits—all exquisite as far as vibes go. But the quality goes far deeper than simply the one single.

“Out of Control,” with its gonzo guitars and pounding rhythm, is a slept-on standout, while “An Cat Dubh” is a love song—well, maybe more of a lust song—that pulses with the kind of passion that reminds you why 20-year-old Bono’s persona was so compelling, to begin with. Some of the middle portion sags, but I chalk that up more to a band finding its footing to laziness or apathy.

Overall, it’s a much stronger listen than I’ve given it credit for over the years.

In this post, I’ll wrap up my ranking of every U2 studio album from worst to best by counting down their Top 5 LPs. Trust me when I say that the end of this list takes a couple of turns some of you may not expect. I hesitate to position that as a trigger warning, but there you go.

If you missed Part 1 or Part 2 of this discography ranking, I encourage you start with those before scrolling past the divider line here. Also, feel free to check out the Coldplay and Bob Marley (in two parts) discog rankings I published earlier in 2024.

Finally, a quick reminder to share and subscribe to the newsletter if you’re willing to help grow this fantastic online community of music lovers.

Let’s go:

After the commercial heights of The Joshua Tree and the seismic reinvention that was Achtung Baby, U2 got even weirder with Zooropa.

Released during the last gasps of rock’s grunge-centric era, this record is notable for its restraint. It revisits many of the same themes and aesthetics as Achtung Baby but dials back the intensity to nearly a whisper. The more subtle the construction, the stronger certain individual moments become.

Take “Numb” as an example. It’s heavily influenced by Nine Inch Nails, except for the soft bedside manner Bono applies to his vocal performance. It’s an odd detour for a band who, by that point, was primarily known for writing large-scale rock bangers, but, as with “Lemon” and “Daddy’s Gonna Pay For Your Crashed Car,” those digressions become sublime gems in their discography.

Writing for the New York Times, Jon Parales noted that the songs that make up Zooropa “seem destined not for stadiums … but for late-night radio shows and private listenings through earphones.” By focusing on the micro, the group created the most underrated album in their studio catalog.

War hits my alternative rock sweet spot so thoroughly that I was tempted to burn all fan expectations to the ground and rank this record as their best, period. Sadly, I didn’t have the guts to do so.

What I will say is this LP stands out as the moment when the band went from solid-to-good indie outfit to great arena headliners. These songs are politically tinged rock that doesn’t overstay its welcome or seem disingenuous from a fist-in-the-air, fight-the-power emotional standpoint. Similar words may ring hollow coming from Bono now, but it was the opposite back then. It struck a chord.

Maybe this album is best viewed through the lens of Bono’s performance more generally. He sounds angrier but of a clearer mind and more passionate disposition. His songwriting hits all the right emotional notes, and I’m including his ballads in there, too. Becuase his level of creative investment feels so much higher, you can’t help but get swept up in that energy as a listener.

Despite War being before my time, I’ve spoken with enough U2 fans who were aware of this album when it was released, and they’ve all said the same thing: They couldn’t wait for what came next (keep scrolling for the payoff in that regard).

Also, “New Year’s Day” is one of the best songs of the 80s.

Honestly, I was dreading this re-listen.

Not because I think it’s a subpar record, but because I knew it would be challenging to separate the pop culture significance from the actual music. As a reminder of how outsized the former is in that equation, The Joshua Tree went Platinum within 48 hours of its release in the UK, a region where it stayed on the album chart for over 200 weeks. Globally, it’s one of the most successful rock albums ever, with over 25 million copies sold.

My biggest takeaway was that, as epic as these songs are, there’s a darkness and despair that was absent from the band’s music prior to this point. The scope and passion are amped up, but these are decidedly sadder ideas and stories (see “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For,” “Running to Stand Still,” and “Mothers of the Disappeared”). The latter two are particularly powerful in how precise the execution is and how massive the stakes feel.

That said, not everything works. I’ve never liked “With or Without You”—the group has written far less pandering ballads. Ditto for “Bullet the Blue Sky” and “Trip Through Your Wires.” On an album full of strong tracks, those feel more like filler.

Taken in concert with the group’s previous efforts, it’s a fascinating inflection point. They’ve produced glossier, more pop-centric albums since Joshua, but they’ve never entirely married the ambition and accessibility quite like this.

If I had to sum up this record in one sentence, it would be that it’s as dazzling as it is unhappy.

The recording process was famously difficult for the group, which felt stuck in a rut following the highs of The Joshua Tree and the critical lows of Rattle and Hum. As Larry Mullin Jr. put it, “We were the biggest, but we weren’t the best.” Speaking of “The Fly,” one of this LP’s many highlights, Bono famously said, “To me, it’s the sound of four men chopping down the Joshua Tree.”

The massive beats and frenzied electronic effects, most visible on dance numbers like “Even Better Than the Real Thing” and “Mysterious Ways,” fundamentally changed how the band would sound moving forward, leaving behind the whispers of country and roots rock in the rearview. It’s purposely as far from The Joshua Tree as it could possibly be.

But even in the face of one of the most publicly visible gear shifts in rock history, Bono’s pointed songwriting and singing are the glue that keeps this record together. “One” is a known commodity, as is “So Cruel” to a degree, for how open-veined his storytelling is. What gets lost in the shuffle is how unsettling the record can be, too, especially in its closing moments like “Love is Blindness.”

It’s a near-masterpiece.

How do you top Achtung Baby in a discography that spans more than four decades? You go back to U2’s alternative roots and unearth what’s arguably the genre’s best release from the 80s.

The Unforgettable Fire certainly comes across as an interesting creative decision following War. They could’ve stayed in their existing lane and likely would’ve reaped substantial financial rewards. Instead, they sound more like they’re testing out (and pushing through) their sonic boundaries.

But, even amid experimentation and the backstage drama that went into their making, these songs are pretty seamless. The best of the bunch is easily “Bad,” which gets me every time I hear it. I’m always like, man, this band’s got it. “Pride (In The Name Of Love)” is also a standout Bono vocal performance and has become one of my favorite driving songs over the years (make of that admission what you will).

Elsewhere, a track like “Wire” is a reminder that U2 can throw down with a lean, mean, swirling alt-rock jam. That aspect of their approach still sounds so intensely personal, proving that, when U2 was firing on all cylinders, at least back in this era, there’s a purity of vision that’s really astounding.

Like, damn. Makes you miss this era of rock music in general.