Praise from some well-known presidents/ dodging the taoiseach/ Sebastian clayton's observations/ the last flight of the zoo plane/ the man who could never go home/ edge on the value of heresy

I've seen Beatlemania and I've seen Madonna fever, I've seen the whole United States trying to get tickets for Dylan's '74 tour, and screaming teenagers baying at Michael Jackson's window. But I have never seen the sort of media overload around a rock act that Ireland is experiencing during this week of U2's first local shows since 1989. There is a concert in Cork on Tuesday, and two in Dublin on Friday and Saturday. From the newspapers you'd think that U2 was on a triple bill with D-Day and the moon landing.

Some of the press is positive to the point of sycophancy, some is negative to the border of slander, but all of it is everywhere. It is beyond the Arts & Entertainment sections, past the gossip and personality pages, over and above the news reports. There are caricatures of Bono in the political cartoons, speculations about McGuinness's latest moves in the financial pages, and sermons about U2 in the churches.

Something has changed for U2 in Ireland. When they walk down the street now, tourists run up and take their pictures, or kids crowd around looking for autographs. It used to be that Dubliners gave the band a wide berth, either out of respect or out of refusal to admit they were a big deal. There seemed to be a certain local pride in not paying much attention to U2, and that suited U2 fine. But now it's different. Maybe it's because in their second decade, with the great success of Achtung Baby and the Zoo tours, U2 has emerged as one of the few superstar acts to make the transition into the nineties without stumbling. Maybe it's

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Because they now come home trailing Naomi Campbell and Salman Rushdie behind them.

Or maybe it's because Dublin itself has become more cosmopolitan;

the international success of filmmakers Jim Sheridan (My Lejt Foot) and Neil Jordan (The Crying Came), writer Roddy Doyle (The Commitments, The Snapper), and playwright Brian Friel (Dancing at Lughnasa) the rise of Sinead O'Connor and return of Van Morrison, and the migration of rock musicians such as Elvis Costello, Def Leppard, Mick Scott, and Jerry Lee Lewis have made Dublin buzz. That buzzing has attracted to the city the sort of people who get excited by seeing celebrities. It is good for a town that was down and out just a decade ago to now be full of life and excitement, but it makes Dublin less of a refuge for its four most famous citizens.

"Dublin's like the Village in The Prisoner," Adam's brother Sebastian observes. "Everyone knows what everyone else is doing and thinking. Very little questioning goes on around here. People go along with what everyone else thinks. U2's always asking questions or trying to start something new. There's not a large group of people here like that. They've always held that they're Irish and Ireland is their home. I think everything is still going to be based here, but I think they've come to a stage where they can't fully have what they're doing judged by people here anymore. They've got to get out and feel and be felt by other people."

Adam's twenty-three-year-old brother is looking forward to getting out himself. Another Clayton bassist, Sebastian's band Moby Dick just broke up on the verge of getting signed to Sony. Sebastian's been living at Adam's house since he finished school three years ago. It was Adam's idea—it got Sebastian out from under his parents and gave Adam a family member to keep an eye on his castle when he was away. Now Sebastian's going to hitch a ride with U2 through the Pacific, and then go off to hook up with his parents in Malaysia, where Mr. Clayton, an airline pilot, is stationed for two years.

"I'm the wrong person to ask about Dublin." Sebastian smiles. "It's probably due to the fact that I grew up with Adam in U2, but I find the people here narrow-minded. Not in Ireland, just in Dublin. I know this guy who always says, 'Oh, U2 are crap, really bad.' Then you see him at midnight queuing to buy their new album the first day of release! That happens a lot in Dublin toward U2. Adam might be talking to someone

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in a pub and they'll go, 'Love the album!' Then after Adam walks away they say, 'Ah, stupid idiot! I hate that band.' But then they go buy all the records. Strange.

"I wouldn't be surprised if there are people right now on the other side of the city saying, 'Oh, you know Sebastian and the American writer are over in the bar of the Conrad having a chat.' That's how scary it is. I'm looking forward to going to Malaysia."

On the Zoo plane flying down to the concert in Cork I read today's Irish Times, which includes a special twenty-four page supplement called "Zoo Times," full of articles about U2, their history, finances, associ­ates, and their upcoming concerts. There is a greeting from Irish presi­dent Mary Robinson ("The contribution of U2 to the international music scene has been of the greatest significance and has brought great honour to them and Ireland.") and one from U.S. president Clinton: "I want to congratulate U2 on the successful completion of their recent European tour. I had the opportunity to speak with and meet the band members during my campaign and found them passionate in their beliefs, dynamic and extremely hardworking. I applaud their many achievements and look forward to further contributions to an already illustrious career. U2's hard work is a bright example of determination and I wish them nothing but success in the future."

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