Wake Up Dead Man

As well as being a U2 song, Wake Up Dead Man is the title of the newly released murder mystery in the hugely successful Knives Out series. 

The composer of the film score is Nathan Johnson who is also a video director and has been a fan of U2 since he was young.

'Ever since I was a kid in Colorado, my interest has constantly tipped back and forth between sonic and visual artistry. Add to that the fact that I grew up deeply entrenched in church culture, and it'll be clear why U2 connected with me in such a formative and multi-layered way.'

'I've just finished composing the score for the third Benoit Blanc film, which was written and directed by my cousin and lifelong collaborator Rian Johnson. Each of these movies takes its title from a song that's been meaningful to us in one way or another. First, there was Knives Out (Radiohead), followed by Glass Onion (the Beatles), and now Wake Up Dead Man (tucked away at the end of U2's Pop).The new film wrestles with questions of faith and doubt, much like my favorite U2 music, and so, in light of the movie's release, I'm honored to share my very own U2 playlist.

Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery is in cinemas now and streaming on Netflix from 12 December.

My U2 Playlist is one of the special features on the U2.com subscription site. Details on a subscription and the annual gift here. 
Already a subscriber? Log in and listen to recent playlists by DJ Pauli and by writer Will Smith and dig into older playlsts  including those of Daniel Lanois, Lian Lunson and Jacknife Lee.

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40 - War
I grew up in a particular strand of American evangelicalism that split everything—people, vocations, all parts of culture—into two distinct camps: secular and sacred. And thus, there also existed "Christian" knock-off versions of most popular music genres. To have a band as big as U2 putting music to the lyrics of a Psalm felt like a huge deal to me, and played a big part in blurring the lines that were so clearly defined in my head at the time. When I went on a church trip with strict rules allowing only Christian music, this song was a good justification for sneaking a few U2 albums into my backpack.

With Or Without You - The Joshua Tree
My first introduction to U2 and, after the Axel F theme from Beverly Hills Cop, my first memory of my cousin showing me how to plunk out a song on the piano. As a kid, I'm not sure I'd even heard the recorded version at this point. My piano was a poor substitution for Adam Clayton's incessant bass line, but the repetition of those simple notes burrowed deep into my brain, and in some way, probably opened the door to the idea that creating music was even possible.

Lemon - Zooropa
I don't quite understand why—perhaps I don't want to—but Lemon is basically my favorite U2 song. I remember reading Bill Flanagan's U2: At The End of the World and feeling swept up by the flashbulb portraits of a band on tour in the chaos of the '90's, especially the after-hours decadence of those European nightclubs. The impressionism of Lemon seems linked to that dark, seedy glamor. I love the unapologetic camp that plays around the edges of Bono's opening falsetto. It's easy to picture him teasing the audience, but by the time the refrain drops ("Midnight is when the day begins") it feels completely sincere, like the clouds finally clearing with the first ray of hope, even if that hope is still hours away.

Bullet the Blue Sky - Rattle and Hum
When I got my hands on the concert film Rattle and Hum, a decade after release, it struck a nerve and quickly became my performance bible. The opening red flame of "Where the Streets Have No Name" after an hour of grainy black & white footage felt like my personal Wizard of Oz moment, and the aerial shot of Sun Devil Stadium when Willie Williams's overpowering burst of searing white floods the audience felt almost too big to be real. But the DIY gag of Bono illuminating the Edge during his "Bullet" solo while holding a giant floodlight captured everything important about rock and roll. It felt searing, spontaneous, clever, and most importantly for a high school kid with big dreams and no budget, achievable. 

The Fly - ZooTV Tour
So many of my music memories are linked with concert visuals, and I struggle to think of a more effective creative collaboration than that of U2 and their multi-hyphenate designer Willie Williams. From the claw-rocketship stage to the heart runway to the giant martini olive (and the lemon!), it's no wonder U2 were invited to christen the mind-bending Sphere in Las Vegas. But my mind always goes back to the ZooTV tour. The brilliant chaos of the television towers, the flashing words, the hanging cars-as-spotlights captured what it felt like to tip into the '90's. I couldn't afford my friend's spare ticket to see them at Mile High Stadium, but once I got the VHS tape, it barely left my VCR. Considering the theme of the show, I'm now realizing this feels appropriate.

Atomic City - The Sphere
So then, the Sphere. A venue to end all venues and a mind-boggling visual dip into the abyss. The way U2 played with optical illusions (again during The Fly) by turning the dome into a box and making a flat virtual ceiling stretch up and then crush down was a wallop of a way to open the show. But the moment that stays with me happened during Atomic City, the new single launched in conjunction with the residency. In one of the more breathtaking effects I've ever seen, the walls of the Sphere seemed to disappear to reveal the Las Vegas strip, and in an instant, it felt like we were on bleachers at a giant outdoor concert. I don't know if my memory of the sudden night breeze is accurate, but I do know they've got wind machines hidden in the bowels of that building so I wouldn't put it past them. As the song progressed, time began running backwards as the entire city was "un-built" in time-lapse. Eventually, the final crane deconstructed the last high-rise and the streets were removed, leaving us in a beautiful expanse of untouched desert.

Numb - Zooropa
I'm a sucker for a one-shot video, and I love the Edge's monotone as all manner of people affront him. With allusions to Yoko Ono's Cut Piece and foot fetishism, the Edge does a stand-up job of not responding, save the briefest hint of a smile he can't hold back as the cheek-licking begins. But as odd as this video is, the "Numb" image that sticks in my own head is from the unauthorized version my cousin Rian made in his college dorm where his own mouth lip syncs the song in extreme close-up. I'm glad the rest of you are stuck with Edge's version.

Sunday Bloody Sunday - Live Under A Blood Red Sky
The live rendition from Rattle and Hum will always sparkle because of the rawness of Bono's speech, but the version that is seared into my brain happened half a decade earlier under a blood red sky. I grew up in the suburbs of Denver, basically in the shadow of Red Rocks, and the documentation of this show left me with the indelible impression that we all had something special in our own backyard. The rainy mist and low-lying clouds created an otherworldly smoke machine which combined with the flaming pyres atop the jagged rocks to make a dangerous light show. Vivid streaks burned into the footage, and the air carried the unhinged atmosphere of a concert that was nearly (and probably should have been) cancelled. When Bono announces "This is not a rebel song…" the crowd lights up with anticipation, and the performance feels almost punk in defiance, standing at the base of the towering rocks. 

Ultraviolet - Achtung Baby
A spiritual sister to "Lemon," another midnight anthem tugging at the daylight. Ultraviolet feels like hope. And although there have been interesting live show treatments (the light jacket and swinging microphone from the 360 tour), I'm of the opinion that the best way to experience this song is alone in the dark, eyes closed, with whatever impressionistic images may flash across your brain.

Wake Up Dead Man - Pop
For a youth group kid who felt a certain ownership of a rock band unabashedly singing the words of Psalm 40, the opening lines of "Wake Up Dead Man" came as a shock. It felt dangerous and exciting, perhaps heretical; definitely transgressive. Had I grown up outside the provincialism of the American evangelical church, I might have realized that this song was actually more in line with the Psalms than many of the words we sang from the pews. Punctuated by the lightning strike electricity of the Edge's guitar, it's an interrogation, a challenge, and a prayer, as well as a pretty good title for a murder mystery set in a church that's torn between a haughty demagogue and a humble servant.