MUSIC REVIEW : U2 Spectacle: Disneyland Meets MTV at the Murph

SAN DIEGO — It was a case of art versus technology, with technology the clear-cut, inevitable victor. U2’s bloated, grandiose “Zoo TV” tour aired at San Diego Jack Murphy Stadium on Tuesday night, and there was no changing the channel.

In what was more spectacle than concert, the group was obscured by a plethora of colossal television screens, smoke bombs, special effects and lighting devices that, after a time, served to numb rather than thrill the senses. It was as if Disneyland had temporarily moved south for the evening, with all the excess and plasticity that implies.

The nonstop barrage of constantly changing images was simply a distraction from the matter at hand--which, lest we forget, was supposed to be a rock ‘n’ roll show, after all. Basically, U2 fans paid $30 or more to watch a puffed-up version of MTV come to life. Where are the marauding gangs of angry, torch-wielding villagers when you really need them?

If the visual assault on the senses wasn’t enough to render U2’s music a moot point, the absolutely appalling acoustics of the cavernous stadium did the trick.

The rhythm section of drummer Larry Mullen and bassist Adam Clayton, which throbs and pulses on recordings with rare power and authority, was rendered a mushy oatmeal of sound. The ethereal, hypnotic guitar work of The Edge was lost in the dissipating echoes of the open sky, and Bono’s melodramatic vocalizing was nearly incomprehensible. All the unique elements and nuances that make U2 a special, idiosyncratic group were sabotaged by the monolithic environs.

None of this prevented the crowd (surprisingly sparse) from having a splendid old time, however, as it reveled in and sang along with hit after hit. An atmosphere of celebration and festivity filled the air, as the fans shook and swayed as one to what precious little of the band’s performance could be truly appreciated.

Highlights, such as they were, included the inevitable opening with “Zoo Station” from their latest album, “Achtung, Baby”; the early classics “New Year’s Day” and “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” and an Edge-heated, kinetic workout on “Bullet the Blue Sky.”

Although the view from a seat at the back of the stadium made Bono appear roughly the size of a flea, numerous live shots of his prancing, writhing, hopping and other infamous antics were screened on giant TV monitors--complete with the “Zoo TV” logo for an extra dose of crassness.

Bono is an undeniably talented, soulful and exciting singer, but his messianic posturings and constant lip service to U.S. politics were, as usual, quite grating. Hint: Strutting, multimillionaire rock stars make unconvincing revolutionaries, guy.

Equally revolting was Bono’s shameless and incessant prodding of the crowd with locally pointed exhortations (“All right, San Diego!” . . . Any Irish in San Diego?!”. . .”HEEEY, SAN DIEEEGOOO!!”). Very nice.

Politically correct support group Public Enemy was even less well-served by the stadium’s nightmarish acoustics than U2. Intelligibility of rappers Chuck D. and Flavor Flav’s confrontational rhymes are essential for full appreciation of their charged performances, but Public Enemy sounded like nothing but a sea of garbled, if pointed, rhythm.

Still, the group did manage to fire up the audience with the anthem-like “Fight the Power,” and earned giddy cheers and laughter for simulating a lynching of a Ku Klux Klansman to punctuate their set.

Icelandic art-rockers the Sugarcubes opened the show with a mercifully brief set in front of a scant and totally unimpressed gathering of early birds.

All things considered, the San Diego Sports Arena now seems a more satisfactory venue in which to take in a concert than ever before. In light of the stadium’s horrendous sound quality and U2’s overbearing “Zoo” gimmickry, it seems a cozy little nightclub by comparison.