Screw U2

U2 have changed their image more often than Al Gore in the 1990s.

Coming off the cover-band knockoff that was 1988's Rattle and Hum, Bono and the band ushered in the '90s with perhaps their second-greatest achievement, Achtung Baby. With its spiraling guitars, swirling keyboards and existentialist vocals, Achtung propelled U2 from mere guitar band to full-blown rock spectacle. Their larger than life ZooTV tour and dramatic MTV videos were even better than the real thing, turning the band into glittering, exultant rock stars riding the waves of change harder and faster than the shattered Berlin Wall could fall. Focusing the pure emotional energy of the decade through their near-perfect prism, U2 found what they were looking for-a way to survive the '80s.

After that great redefinition, Zooropa recast U2 as a bunch of damaged disco stars, their sound drenched in Aphex Twin and Eurotrash. Pop took things a step further, eschewing consumer culture with its self-consciously ironic embrace, while the PopMart tour, the ultimate in packaging, nearly collapsed under its arch irony, rote setlists and failed appropriation of emerging house music styles. From their off-season politicking to space-suited exits from giant lemons, U2 has given us plenty of personas to work with in the past eight years, but they haven't had the songs to make them stick.

With All that You Can't Leave Behind, it seems U2 have finally run out of ideas. While the 1990s proved that the band was willing to take risks, this latest U2 takes giant steps back, trying to rewrite the masterpieces they've already written. The Joshua Tree was inarguably one of the best albums of the 1980s. But this album's revisiting of its style and tone is a sore revelation of the band's shortcomings, especially given the less-than-adequate songwriting. And though it echoes Achtung Baby on occasion, an overall lack of variety and attitude makes All That You Can't Leave Behind an achingly inadequate sequel.

All That You Can't Leave Behind adds the final element to music's collapse from 1991's artistic highpoint to today's mid-'80s mimicry. To the climate of teensploitation, bad heavy metal, bouncy keyboard pop and hyper-materialism, Bono & co. add their own dash of pseudo-spiritualism and oblivious escapist analogy. They've even got a song called "Peace On Earth." Give Limp Bizkit some more hair, and it might be "We Are the World" time again.

While they could argue for its timelessness, this album's generic themes drop more like dead weight, dragged down by uninspired guitar work and loopy lyrics about grace, karma and worn weather metaphors. "Beautiful Day," the first single and one of the stronger tracks, makes for neat pop fodder but doesn't have much to say. "Walk On" and "Kite"-a compendium of ill-considered rhymes and mediocre melody-could have made adequate b-sides for "Where The Streets Have No Name," but we're supposed to be a long way from 1987. "In A Little While" is a welcome visit to The Joshua Tree's bluesier side, but it's difficult to cut through Bono's falsetto cheese.

And although their obsession with American themes and sounds has produced some of the most inspiring music of the past two decades, the Irishmen should have left the idea of a New York song well enough alone. With all his international charity work, it seems Bono would have better subjects to write on than goofy citygazing that sounds like a tourist just off the subway.

Of all these 11 songs, "Elevation" is the only one that gives any indication of the band's earlier promise. It's positively captivating, marrying Achtung's rapturous sexual fervor to Pop's electronically-informed experimentalism. Other than "Beautiful Day," this rocker is about the only song on this record that has a pulse.