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For all the critical blather about the boys in U2 “reinventing” themselves in light of a current trend, here’s a well-honed expert rebuttal for wary fans to keep in mind: fuhgedaboutit. While the heavily hyped Pop is scattered with textured techno bursts and electronic hoo-ha, the album’s structure is, in essence, the same as what has supported the band’s records for years: Mullen and Clayton’s wide open grooves lay the groundwork, the Edge’s brilliant and always inventive guitar fills in the gaps, and reluctant Christian Bono wails away above it all for the answers of man. In fact, only three tunes on the Flood-produced Pop rocket directly to the loose-lawed planet of Electronica: “MoFo” is a now-and-then nightmare of blurred (possibly incestuous) vocals, unstoppable heart-attack beats, and cool effects picked up at a Prodigy garage sale, all calmed down by the gorgeous, floating strains of an Achtung Baby yesterday; “Miami” ominously loops along until Bono, fed up with the “surgery in the air,” screams for a way out of sin city; and the commercial-worthy first single “Discothèque” is a mesh of swirling raver foreplay and Village People coition. For those who are shelling out 60 clams to see U2 play live this summer, rest assured: The remainder of Pop will sound just wonderful pumped across the stadiums of America. “Staring at the Sun” is a white-gloved slap at Oasis, and “Last Night on Earth” is vintage revved-up U2, with Bono pleading, “You got to give it away!” Ironically, three of Pop’s strongest songs are also its most bare: “If You Wear That Velvet Dress” (originally slated to be a B-side), “If God Will Send His Angels,” and “The Playboy Mansion” all feature Bono crooning obtuse lyrics about the once-reliable sweetness of life decaying in the presence of modern mores.—Sean Daly