A fine day, a generally good-humoured crowd in excess of 20,000 and a bill that gave real meaning to the term "strength in depth": most circumstances at the Phoenix Park last Sunday were as near to perfect as made no difference with only the placement of the stage, and the resultant cramped conditions out front working against optimum enjoyment.

Perfect also were the Crime of the same name, for their appointed role. Faced with the unenviable challenge of opening the proceedings, the Perfect Crime surmounted the difficulties, burgled the hearts and minds of many present and went away with a burgeoning reputation worth its weight in gold. On this showing they are destined to pull off the big one. Just give them time.

Then, more low-key perfection; what better proposition on a hot, sunny afternoon than the sweet, seductive rhythms of good reggae. Steel Pulse provided just that and left everybody feeling groovy!

Big Country, on the other hand, must have left a lot of people feeling drained. The first band of the day to really fire up the audience en masse, their blend of guitar power and Celtic esprit de corps was, in places, devastating. "Fields of Fire" and "In A Big Country" in particular raised the temperature another few degrees and the heaving, bopping masses at the front throughout testified to the visceral impact of their music. The unison demand for encores - duly reciprocated - was further confirmation of the fact that Stuart Adamson's troops are already well into what should prove to be a long and illustrious campaign.

Viewing the Eurythmics from 100 yards was deceptive. From that distance, Annie Lennox looked like Fozzie Bear (hair by Chantal of David Marshall's) trying to be Grace Jones. Then she seemed to throw a real temperamental wobbler - one plastic bottle and she angrily launched into a peace and love sermon that wouldn't have disgraced Melanie.

But when they settled down, thankfully the Eurythmics weren't one of those drab disappointments, bands who can't emulate their records on stage. Expert soul re-stylists, Dave Stewart in particular is a most informed guitarist, while Annie Lennox is just as evocative a singer live.

Highlight for me was their version of Lou Reed's "Satellite Of Love" turning it into a real futurist scarf-waver for the Bayern Munich of 2001. But the real question must be when will the Eurythmics return? On this provocative showing, they certainly deserve a closer second view.

Simple Minds came on in the wake of the sudden wave of euphoria which followed the announcement of Eamon Coughlan's victory in Helsinki, but from the outset, it was clear that as far as the Phoenix Park crowd were concerned, the Minds were world beaters in their own right.

The nauseating spectacle of a phalanx of blockheads intimidating a section of the audience away to the left of the stage proved an initial, but thankfully temporary distraction, before one's attention could be firmly focused on the music.

Fronted by the rubbery Jim Kerr - Spiderman poses a speciality - Simple Minds proved that, live, their music is a more consistently meaty proposition than is often the case on record. With the springing, mobile rhythm section of Derek Forbes (bass) and Mel Gaynor (drums) a crucial impetus throughout, the band made the maximum impact on songs like "Promised You a Miracle" and "Glittering Prize" but it was "The American" which provided the set's first bona-fide highlight with Kerr masterminding the vocal passages on the chorus splendidly.

"Premonition" displayed their ability to mix power and sensitivity to hypnotic effect before "Someone Somewhere In Summertime" shone down on the crowd with the late evening sun, bringing their set to a close and drawing a tumultuous response. For the encore they launched into "New Gold Dream 81-82-83-84" the best song on the album of the same name and as the beat went crashing, they worked in elements of both " Take Me To The River" and Sly Stone's "Higher" routine to bring their performance to an appropriately heady climax. They'll be back ...

Afterwards, Bono's sincerely humbled view of their rapturous reception was that U-2 only had to turn up to triumph - but the band deserved their abundant success as they showed just why they are such a special live force.

Personally I won't forget the departing crowd still singing the refrain from "40" long after the closing theme of "Harry's Game" had faded away. They will sing that particular song for a long, long time.

Other immediate memories are of Bono's quicksilver instincts - whether showing his unerring sense and sensitivity in dealing with stage-invaders, dragging his father on for a swift jig, or generously dedicating a song to Jim Reilly whose brother was shot the previous weekend in Belfast.

What makes U-2 is their special balance between ego and egolessness, their ability to blend a fierce attack with a message of self-sacrifice in a song like "Surrender".

Theories another time. For absent friends and faithful departed, their set leaned to a mixture of the ancient and modern, with only three songs from the underestimated "October".

There were some other moments of magical fulfilment: Bono told us it was the Edge's birthday and the crowd sang "Happy Birthday" to him; it was good to see the guitarist given the reception and recognition he's always deserved.

If this festival was, as Bono insists, the final instalment of U-2 mk 1, the last grateful homecoming from the roads of America, the closing of a circle that began in dens like McGonagle's, U-2 also gave a hint of their future direction with a new song "Party Girl" for the first encore.

Forget the accounts of backstage ligging, they're irrelevant to what happened out front. U-2 is about immersion, an attempt to recover a sense of true ecstasy amid the corrupted rituals of "rock".

However hard the heart beats, it must be open. Ultimately that is the essence of U-2, the offering communicated and so gratefully received at the Phoenix Park. U-2 audiences always leave in hope.

Chris Donovan, Bill Graham and Liam Mackey.

Vol 7 No. 16 August 18th, 1983.