footnote (some light relief), November 1983:

U2 is in a studio in Dublin, playing its new song, ÒSunday Bloody Sunday,Ó to the record company. The melody is a good one but the lyric is, in hindsight, an inarticulate speech of the heart. ItÕs a small song that tries but fails to contrast big ideas ... atonement with forgiveness ... ÒBloody SundayÓ with Easter Sunday. The song will be sung wherever there are rock fans with mullets and rage, from Sarajevo to Tehran. Over time, the lyric will change and grow. But here, with the Cockneyed record company boss at the songÕs birth, the maternity ward goes quiet when the man announces that the baby is Òa hitÓ... with one caveat: ÒDrop the Ôbloody.Õ ÔBloodyÕ wonÕt bloody work on the radio.Ó

(Bono, writing in the New York Times)