Even the haters would have to admit: This is a pretty cool story.

Yeah, the hype for U2’s upcoming album has come to a boil.

But is this just “hype”? Check out these reviews…

The Guardian:

… So why is it that once the clammy sea mist of all the things that No Line on the Horizon isn’t has finally drifted away, the ocean-going leviathan that actually hoves into view is so much more impressive than any of the phantasms conjured up by two or three years of pre-release hoopla? Well, chiefly because this third album in what might fairly be called the “lap of honour” phase of U2’s career – in which they have gleefully inscribed ever-increasing circles around the triumphalist spectacle of their own ongoing medal ceremony – offers a brutally effective summation of their achievements to date, and something entirely fresh and new at the same time.

It starts out blustery and familiar, before gradually revealing an unexpected and almost lovable sense of vulnerability. A record whose three catchiest songs – the Abba-tinged, Kiss-worthy “I’ll Go Crazy If I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight,” the buzzily priapic Queens of the Stone Age tribute “Get on Your Boots,” and the glaringly self-referential “Stand Up Comedy” – are the work of four unapologetically middle-aged men. And a record whose finest moments – Bono seeing his own reflection in a cash machine on “Moment of Surrender”; the euphoric, computer-generated call-and-response of “Unknown Caller”; and the Kings Of Leon-vaporising 70s rock power-surge of “Breathe” – are as memorable as any U2 have ever created.

The Irish Examiner:

No Line On The Horizon is mercifully free of clunky world-music influences. That’s not to say some of the setting hasn’t seeped into the playing. Indeed, the album’s most interesting diversions, the experimental Unknown Caller and Fez — Being Born will come as a endearing surprise to anyone who believed U2 have long ago ceased to be innovators.

On Unknown Caller, Eno’s influence is immediately apparent: it opens with a loop of Arabic rhythms and a sampled bird tweet before morphing into a widescreen torch song. Even more intriguing is Fez, which may well be U2’s most left-field venture since the overtly experimental 1993 album Zooropa. Sounding, in the best sense, like a Radiohead B-side, it begins with a swirl of disembodied voices, churning static and ebbing beats, which eventually give way to a fantastic Edge solo and swirling prayer chants. For these moments alone, No Line On The Horizon deserves to be fast-tracked into the U2 hall of fame.

Dublin Herald:

That U2 have delivered a 12th studio album of such elegance and abandon at this stage in their career is quite remarkable.

I’m not bigging up my buddies here. Nodding terms suits both parties. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t highlight what I consider to be an artistic heart at the core of this new work that’s unerring, fragile and true.

Taken collectively, these songs are a serious piece of work.

There’s a line tucked away in the sleeve notes that thanks record company executive Jimmy Iovine “for believing that U2 are a brand new band.” Huh! We’ve heard this before. Yet, once again, the band have managed a unique reinvention.

Not that they’re going to emerge as crossdressers or Moonies. But, over the past decade the band appear to have undergone a profound metamorphosis. There’s a depth to this album that is subtle, not strident. We’ve been catching glimpses of it over the years.

Today, there’s a scuffed maturity in evidence here that can only come from life experience. It serves U2 well.

In the natural order of things, the ageing U2 should by now be trailing in the wake of younger, more dynamic bands. This is not the case. No Line on the Horizon raises the bar for Coldplay, The Killers and Kings of Leon.

Irish Independent:

A bold change in direction will not be found on the album either. It won’t wrong-foot the listener in the way that Achtung Baby or even Pop did. But suggestions that U2 had lost their mojo are just as unfounded — and unfair. No Line on the Horizon may not be a masterpiece, but it is unquestionably a very good, consistently strong collection that’s every bit the match of their two huge selling albums of this decade, All That You Can’t Leave Behind and How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb. Even “Get On Your Boots” proves to be a grower, working well when heard within the context of the album.

Just shy of 54 minutes long, it’s one of their lengthier efforts. And of the 11 tracks, only two could be described as duds (more of which anon). That’s not a bad strike rate by anybody’s standards.