“My ego’s not really the enemy,” Bono confides on the new U2 album. “It’s like a small child crossing an eight-lane highway/On a voyage of discovery.” Eight lanes? Keep counting, boyo. All over this record, he paves whole new interstates of ego, with exit ramps darting in and out of every verse, and that’s exactly how it should be. The days are gone when U2 were trying to keep it simple—at this point, the lads have realized that over-the-top romantic grandiosity is the style that suits them, so they come on like the cosmic guitar supplicants they were born to be. No Line on the Horizon is U2’s third killer in a row—by now, it’s bizarre to remember that just 10 years ago, everybody thought they were headed toward the dinosaur band tar pits. But ever since they went from midlife crisis to midlife rejuvenation, with All That You Can’t Leave Behind, they’ve been on a roll. Here, they go for the abstract, Euro vibe of Achtung Baby or The Unforgettable Fire, piling on the cathedral-size keyboards. Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois are back on hand, giving the production a dub-like reverb without quashing the momentum. One song (“Fez—Being Born”) rolls along on the melodic pointillism of minimalist composer Steve Reich; while another (“I’ll Go Crazy if I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight”) bites the piano hook from Journey’s “Faithfully,” and that gives a rough picture of how far U2 range on Horizon. “Moment of Surrender” is the high point—seven minutes of Bono in gospel mode, lost in the late-night city (“I was speeding on the subway/Through the stations of the cross”), questing for salvation and finding it in Adam Clayton’s bass. The Edge fleshes out the yearning with some piercing crazy-diamond guitar. It’s the kind of gimme-divinity anthem that U2 cut their teeth on, except it really does seem like they’ve gotten better at these songs now that they’ve picked up some bummed-out adult grit. Bono actually sounds scared of something in this song, and whether his nightmares are religious or sexual, the fear gives his voice some heft. Compared to “Moment of Surrender,” “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” just sounds like a callow kid trying to snag a date at Bible camp. “Unknown Caller” is another vivid picture of spiritual jet lag—usually when rock stars use their cell phones as metaphors, it seems like they got bored at the airport, but this one truly puts on the chill. Bono reaches Bowie-in-Berlin levels of arty alienation (“I had driven to the scene of the accident/And I sat there waiting for me”), while the guitars crackle in the album’s finest Edgemanship. “Get On Your Boots” is a manic low-end rocker a la “Vertigo,” with phased ’70s-style synths, buzzing guitar and a breathless vocal from Bono that brings back fond memories of the days when the Edge tried to rap. (All the talk about “sexy boots,” community, joy, war, Satan and bomb scares—well, it’s typical of the jumble of eroticism, politics and spirituality that defines this album, and, probably, Bono’s BlackBerry. ) The songs get slower and less compelling toward the end; that’s how U2 always pace things. Yet they achieve liftoff in the rockers, especially “No Line on the Horizon” (yet another lonely party girl who wants more than a party) and “Magnificent” (yet another hymn to the powers of love).You can hear Eno’s touch all over: “Moment of Surrender” opens with an organ solo straight from “The Big Ship,” on his 1975 classic Another Green World. But it’s Bono who dominates. He hasn’t crammed in this many words per song in over 10 years—to be specific, since the least-loved item in the U2 catalogue, Pop, the grim, slow, morbid flop they tried and failed to sell as their ironic techno statement. The difference now is that they’re no longer apologizing for their messy emotions or their lofty ambitions. Ego really isn’t their enemy—it’s their instrument, and on No Line on the Horizon they just plug it in and play.

DOWNLOAD “Moment of Surrender,” “Unknown Caller,” “I’ll Go Crazy If I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight,” “Breathe”