It's best to read this post with the following image of Bono in mind; slathered in leather, rubbing his arms, lunging sporadically, rolling around the ground, and the odd hip thrust, all culminating with a victorious air punch: "Edge's genuine genius developing on the blank and bleached photographic paper, avoiding all the obvious blues scales that blind every other guitar player that ever heard Led Zeppelin. The Edge finds some new colours for the spectrum of rock. Colours he now owns. Owning a colour, wow. Imagine owning the colour yellow, like Van Gogh. Edge owns, well I'm not exactly sure what colours they are... indigo or violet or crimson? But you sense an emotional colour temperature that is unique to him. It's his palette we're painting from… Surely this is the most influential guitarist since the great composers Jimmy Page, Pete Townshend, Neil Young but remember he doesn't have the history of the blues to plumb, these are uncharted waters was to the English psychedelic revival we were also inspired by and plundering." That's really beautiful, Paul.
*UPDATE* I've just found some of the most shocking images I've had to deal with in all my years rehashing celebrity gossip. Actual proof that Bono turned up at the launch of Amanda Brunker's book launch back in June... The brain attempted to make excuses for self-preservation's sake, thinking "Ah, she must've just hurled herself at him while he happened to be passing Renards." But, no, here he is, openly clutching a copy of Champange Kisses upon his arrival. I just don't quite get why he'd be there... not that we'd dare take that away from Amanda; who looks near maniacle with glee at his presence - "HAH! See, bitches?! Bono came, I KNEW he'd come, I told you he'd come, didn't I? Didn't I tell you?! HE CAAAAME!!! WHEEEE!!!"
