U2’s career has enjoyed something of a renaissance in the 2000s. After American audiences largely rejected the experimental, dance-oriented rock of Zooropa and Pop, they returned to their roots, giving us the straight up rock ‘n’ roll of All That You Can’t Leave Behind and How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb. These albums were smash successes, and reminded us just how powerful U2’s music could be. There was just one problem; they were playing things a bit safe. Luckily, that minor glitch has been fixed and then some on their latest effort, No Line On the Horizon. This is a sprawling, ambitious effort that takes U2’s music in directions it hasn’t dreamed of going in years. In addition to being their best album since Achtung Baby, it also might be the most daring work they’ve ever created. Anyone who thought U2 were content to rest on their laurels got kicked in the teeth with this one.

The album begins with the title track, an epic rocker not unlike “Beautiful Day,” but where that song was straight optimism, this song’s future is uncertain with its ominous chorus. It has no idea where it’s going. From there we go into “Magnificient,” Bono’s latest song about why he loves to sing, and who he wants to be. It’s the spiritual cousin to “Sometimes You Can’t Make It On Your Own,” off of the last album, except it now offers us hope instead of despair. These tracks make U2’s mission statement clear. They want to ask the big questions, about their own lives and about the world. They achieve this with alarming success.

The ambition only continues from there, with “Moment of Surrender,” a beautiful ballad that runs over seven minutes, and wastes none of them. Then there’s “Unknown Caller,” another lengthy ballad, this time encouraging us not to be complacent, to “Shout out for joy if you get the chance.” Seems like the same thing U2 told themselves when they made the album. It was good advice. The only non-serious track on this album is lead single “Get On Your Boots,” in which Bono proclaims “I don’t want to talk about wars between nations” (a rarity for him to say the least), and dedicates his energy to an attractive, boot-wearing female. It’s a nice way for us to catch our breath after the high emotion of the other ten tracks. In the second half, we get “Stand Up Comedy,” in which Bono mocks and defends his earnestness, and the subdued closer “Cedars of Lebanon,” which evokes memories of “Grace” and “Yahweh,” the closers off of the last two albums. U2 like to end their albums by reminding us they don’t have to conquer the world with every song, and it’s a nice thing to know. They work just as well when they take it down a notch.

After all this time, U2 continue to be relevant and popular, and it’s easy to see why. They create the type of big, bold music that no one can replicate, and many fail trying to. They show no signs of stopping, and while some wish they would, I’m guessing most music fans would welcome vital, epic albums like this for years to come.