By Sarah Rodman/ Music Review
Tuesday, October 4, 2005 - Updated: 02:44 AM EST

The biggest change between U2's appearances in Boston in May and last night was the name of the venue.

The FleetCenter may have become the TD Banknorth Garden in the interim but U2 is still putting on the same brawny, two-hour-and-fifteen-minute show more than eight months into its ``Vertigo'' tour.
If anything, the boys in the band sounded and looked in better spirits last night, in the first of two sold-out shows. (They return for two more shows Dec. 4 and 5.)

The 22-song setlist had a few minor but interesting deviations from the spring performances, but whether you were a repeat customer or a first timer to the show, it's unlikely you went home disappointed.

In a shower of confetti, the quartet took to their circular stage – surrounded by an oval that encircled 300 fans – and blasted into ``City of Blinding Lights,'' dove directly into ``Vertigo'' and ratcheted up the temperature with ``Elevation.'' The latter must-move groove again proved to be the real rocket fuel for the show as Bono and company teased the crowd, who were eating out of the palm of their hands waiting for Larry Mullen Jr.'s cathartic downbeat.

Whether speechifying about the need for global co-existence or singing an aria about ``Miss Sarajevo,'' Bono's voice was strong and heartfelt. He struggled briefly near the end of the show during ``Pride (In the Name of Love)'' – which oozed seamlessly into the sinister sizzle and shriek of ``Bullet the Blue Sky.'' But he recovered almost immediately and seemed no worse for the wear during spirited encores, including a glorious stripped down acoustic version of ``Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses?'' and the great ``Zooropa'' deep cut ``The First Time.''

The crowd of 18,152 diehard U2-niks were in good voice ``whoo-hoo''-ing and ``how long''-ing and ``no more''-ing with gusto in all of the appropriate places, but the fans proved their true lung power during the show's apex, a sweeping ``Where the Streets Have No Name'' that had even ushers, security folks and a few cops shaking a leg.

While there were a couple of discomfiting moments – Bono donning a Red Sox jersey or miming being a prisoner of war – the quartet's sheer energy and palpable good will carried them over rough spots, not to mention the Edge's cascading waves of sound and Adam Clayton and Mullen's muscular rhythms.

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