Zooropa (1993)
1. Zooropa 2. Babyface 3. Numb 4. Lemon 5. Stay (Far Away, So Close) 6. Daddy's Gonna Pay For Your Crashed Car 7. Some Days Are Better Than Others 8. The First Time 9. Dirty Day 10.The Wanderer
Following the overwhelming success of 1991’s Achtung Baby and the subsequent globe-spanning Zoo TV tour, U2 seemed to operate on pure forward momentum. The tour itself was massive in scope—visually, thematically, and geographically—and at no point did it seem that the band actually stopped long enough to regroup. Instead, they simply kept moving, recording material in hotel rooms, backstage corners, and borrowed studios. Somewhere in the middle of it all, they assembled Zooropa—an album that feels less like a carefully plotted effort and more like a snapshot of a band still riding the wave, trying to make sense of the scenery rushing past.
Sonically, Zooropa picks up precisely where Achtung Baby left off, diving deeper into the synthetic textures and European club inflections that had begun to define their “new sound.” The guitars are processed, the rhythms mechanized, the production densely layered. The result is a curious hybrid—part continuation, part departure, and entirely experimental.
But if Achtung Baby was sharp and assured, Zooropa is a touch more diffuse. It never quite gels into a fully cohesive statement, though it’s hard to argue with the strength of the individual material. There’s a looseness here that borders on the whimsical, perhaps even indulgent. Still, this is a band that was clearly enjoying the freedom to explore, to bend genres, to take risks.
The title track, which also opens the album, sets the tone: a sluggish, distorted introduction that only begins to cohere several minutes in. It’s deliberately disorienting, almost anti-commercial in its presentation. On the other end of the album lies The Wanderer, an oddity by any measure. With its synthscape backing and Johnny Cash on lead vocals, it feels less like U2 and more like a dispatch from another universe entirely. What it means—lyrically, thematically—is anyone’s guess.
Elsewhere, the band dips even further into techno-tinged territory. Lemon and Daddy’s Gonna Pay for Your Crashed Car are full of rubbery grooves and studio effects, the former sung in a falsetto so fragile it threatens to evaporate. Numb—perhaps the strangest track of all—is a spoken-word monotone from The Edge, delivered over a relentless beat and dense audio clutter. It’s not catchy, but it is memorable.
And then, almost quietly, comes Stay (Faraway, So Close!)—the album’s most beautiful moment and the one track that seems to cut through all the noise. Understated and haunting, it recalls a more traditional U2, stripped of the spectacle and electronic dressing. It has become the record’s enduring legacy, often played acoustically in later live shows, and rightly so.
There’s no denying that Zooropa lacks the narrative arc and laser focus of U2’s best work. But even so, there’s a peculiar charm to its chaos. For all its strange detours and sonic curiosities, the album maintains a consistent tone of optimism. The melodies may be buried under layers of programming and distortion, but they’re there.
In the end, Zooropa feels like a band still in flux—experimenting, stretching, asking questions rather than offering answers. It may not be counted among their classics, but it’s an important piece of the puzzle. Proof that U2, even at their most bewildering, never stopped pushing forward.