The Joshua Tree

The Joshua Tree is the record that turned U2 from a critically respected Irish post-punk band into the biggest rock act on the planet, and it remains the consensus peak of their catalog. Its central move was to take the spacious, atmospheric production the band had developed on the preceding album and push it into harder-hitting, fully formed songs — The Edge's shimmering, delay-soaked guitar and Bono's fervent, gospel-tinged vocals anchoring anthems that feel simultaneously intimate and vast. The opening run, capped by three of the decade's defining singles, is widely treated as one of the great first halves of any rock album; reviewers at the time and since have praised the record's clarity of focus and the new directness and personal quality of the songwriting.

The album is an Irish band's ambivalent love letter to America — its deserts and wide-open spaces, its blues, gospel, and folk roots, and its Reagan-era politics. That ambition is also where critics most often find fault: the second half is routinely described as a step down from the opening peaks, a couple of tracks get written off as minor or overwrought, and Bono's earnestness and occasionally overripe imagery draw charges of pretension from some quarters. The lush, echo-heavy production is itself a point of contention for listeners who find the era's cavernous drum and guitar sounds dated.

The record balances soaring spiritual uplift against bleak political anger — songs inspired by state violence, the disappeared, Thatcher-era mining communities, and addiction — and critics have split along predictable lines about whether that sincerity is the record's power source or its most off-putting quality. What is not seriously disputed is its landmark status: decades on it is routinely named among the greatest albums ever made, it swept the industry's top album prize, and it has never fallen out of the upper ranks of the rock canon.