The heart is a bloom, but you knew that already. Bono's lead line on 'Beautiful Day' effectively sets the tone for this new scheme. Great things can be nurtured, he tells us. Scepticism is out and old-fashioned hope is the greatest buzz around. So it's entirely fitting that the stage for the band's Elevation Tour should be framed by a massive, pulsating heart.

The band are playing up at the top half, where all the valves and ventricles should be. Below them, reaching to the point of the heart, is a couple of hundred fans, delighted to be in such a fine spot - literally in the flow. The rest of us look on as Bono routinely hops off the stage, onto the rim of the stage design, and races around the perimeter of this great cartoon organ.

Compared to the Popmart set, this is intimate stuff. A bunch of movie lights ranged along the back and a few artfully low-key gizmos, but the emphasis is on the band, the tunes, and the rushing sentiments. They start with 'Elevation'. The house lights are still on until Edge strikes a rough chord and then the white lights are ignited. The last band that unleashed these kind of raw elements was the Jesus And Mary Chain during their Psycho Candy era.

'Beautiful Day' was made for grand occasions and tonight the sense of jubilation is considerable. Michael Hutchence gets a name-check at the start of 'Stuck In A Moment' and the song makes a case for life's high possibilities while remembering the lonesome death of a friend. Bono stands forehead to forehead with Adam for a bit and then leans on Edge when his mate sings the high lines. A great moment.

For 'Sweetest Thing', Bono sits at the piano and chops out the rudimentary chords. Adam is playing a dub bassline, akin to The Clash on 'Bankrobber'. Technically, the tune may sound better as the tour progresses, but tonight's version is joyfully loose, an idea literally coming together before us. Bono also dedicates 'In A Little While' to Ali, his wife, and he's singing like Otis Redding, intensely rough, working his voice over in preparation for 'The Ground Beneath Her Feet', which is turning into a kind of sean nós ballad, Memphis-style.

During the 'irony' years, U2's live treatment of the older songs seemed strained. That's no longer the case. The singer who closed the Pop record with 'Wake Up Dead Man', has come out of the valley of doubt, and so there's an affirmative spark to 'With Or Without You' and 'Where The Streets Have No Name'. For the latter, Bono is running laps around the heart at speed, rock and roll's answer to Forest Gump, madly enlivened.

In the course of the night, he has fallen off the stage, and then consciously thrown himself into the auditorium, leaving by the back exit then magically re-appearing at the top for an encore. His body is battered, his voice is in bits, his emotions are all over the house, but Bono choses to leave the arena with 'Walk On', another mission statement from the biggest heart in Florida. He's obsessing over the line "leave it behind", twisting it around, looking for meaning in the deeps of the words.

It's a startling weave of ideas. Huge, wailing rock and roll. Little poignant asides. A band who recognise the cynicism and self-interest of the times, but who still want to bother the corporate behemoths, to maximise the chances of popular song and its ability to quicken the pulse. There's no other band doing such a thing just now, but you knew that already. Slane is going to be special, alright.