We talked about family, religion, music—Jersey law requires me to ask you about football and politics. I know you’re a fan of at least one of those things. But you seem to code switch between worlds and get along with lots of different people.
I don’t think that I get along with lots of different people [laughs]. But yeah, football was something that was a common thread in our house, whether it was my father or my uncle, you could find them Sunday watching the Giants. And then my relationships through my celebrity allowed me to meet people on the Giants, which then led me to my relationship with a young man who is now an old man by the name of Bill Belichick. Last night I had dinner with Robert Kraft, who is one of my dearest friends.
Is he still mad at Tom Brady?
He’s not mad at Tommy! No!
Unlike football, politics is not anything I ever grew up with. My family was not involved at all. My wife’s family was probably more involved in politics. And we’ve met a number of politicians over the years. Whether the current governor, or the previous governor, Chris Christie.
I’m friendly with Chris. Although we didn’t have to agree with each other’s politics all the time, we could certainly talk as fellow New Jerseyites with things in common that we wanted to do for people there. So you could have a conversation with somebody, regardless of what side you’re on.
Do you think people are still listening to each other? Are you worried about the current political climate? You have a song on the record, “Blood in the Water,” about it.
I think the division that’s evolved in the last four to six years is an America that I’m afraid for. Bickering among political themes has become something that’s dividing families—parents and kids, husbands and wives. I’m worried about how we come together as a country. [A silent pause.] I’m so scared. I’m so scared. I’m scared.
Yeah. Me too.
When I grew up, the idea of the middle class in Sayreville, it was hardworking, blue collar, really white, but a really good hardworking solid town made up of second-generation, primarily European immigrants. Believed in this kind of John Kennedy mantra of we can do anything we wanna do, we can go to the moon, and so I grew up in this very innocent wonderful kind of time. And then I came to be old enough to vote and Ronald Reagan was telling everybody that there should be a car in every driveway and a chicken in every pot, telling Gorbachev to tear down that wall. It certainly wasn’t the day and age my kids are growing up in now.
But it also allowed us to dream ridiculously big, because we didn’t know any better. You know I’ve told this story many times before: Bono grew up thinking about the Orangemen marching, and we grew up thinking about Little League and Pop Warner. It was many years after the race riots, many many years after the work of MLK, RFK, Malcolm X. It was a different era.
Now my kid just graduated from college. Those poor kids missed out on graduation, the prom, turned 18 at home, given one hour of outdoor time, they were born out of 9/11. That’s a shit hand to be dealt. But on the other hand, I think they’re going to be that next great generation, because they have to be. Are they going to have the same opportunities? What are the chances they’re going to have a chance to sell 130 million albums?
Is that possibility even out there anymore? How different are things now?
The pandemic changed lives. Everyone has their own story. And hopefully out of a crisis comes the next generation’s innovators, inspired, and engaged, ready to lead by example and move into an era of ‘we,’ not ‘me.’
This interview has been edited and condensed.