U2’s surprise six-track EP Days of Ash, dropped without warning yesterday on Ash Wednesday, February 18, 2026, is the most urgent music the band has released in decades. Their first collection of original songs since Songs of Experience (2017), the 23-minute project—produced by Jacknife Lee—feels like a spiritual sequel to War, channeling biblical fire, righteous fury, and fragile hope into a razor-sharp response to real-time global tragedies.
It opens like a siren: “American Obituary” detonates with distorted Edge guitar, growling bass, and pounding drums over the killing of Minneapolis mother Renée Nicole Good. Bono’s lyrics are pure confrontation—“America will rise against the people of the lie”—delivered with the venom of a man who still believes rock can topple empires.
“The Tears of Things” widens the lens into a sweeping indictment of fascism and religious zealotry, its towering melody collapsing into acoustic haze before exploding again. “Song of the Future” honors slain Iranian teen activist Sarina Esmailzadeh with shimmering optimism, while the haunting ambient interlude “Wildpeace” sets Yehuda Amichai’s Israeli poem to sparse electronics, spoken by Adeola—a moment of stunned silence amid the noise.
“One Life at a Time” mourns Palestinian activist Awdah Hathaleen with tender defiance, and the closer “Yours Eternally” (4:26) features Ed Sheeran and Ukrainian soldier-singer Taras Topolia (echoing U2’s 2022 Kyiv bomb-shelter gig) in a soaring, choir-backed anthem for those fighting for freedom.
At 23 minutes the EP never overstays; every second feels necessary. Proceeds go to UNHCR, Amnesty International, and the Committee to Protect Journalists. Musically crisp and emotionally raw, it strips away the gloss of recent U2 experiments and rediscovers the band’s superpower: turning headlines into hymns.
Days of Ash is U2‘s most overtly political work in years. In an age when most superstars play it safe, Bono, Edge, Adam, and Larry prove they’re still impatient prophets. Days of Ash isn’t a teaser for the upcoming carnival album—it’s a standalone Molotov cocktail of conscience and craft.