The paradox is striking, because from a musical standpoint, liking U2 is about as controversial as enjoying chocolate: The band members have been global superstars for well over 30 years now, having sold more than 150 million records and remained a reliable touring draw, whether their stage setup involves a giant claw or simply an innovative light and video show. But then again, in the post-“Pop” world of U2 fandom–a 15-year-plus arc of trying to make people forget about the unfairly maligned, electronic-leaning album and accompanying Popmart tour–copping to U2 fandom is an admission fraught with baggage. Certainly 2000’s “All That You Can’t Leave Behind” and 2004’s “How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb” did wonders to restore their reputation as a superstar rock band capable of universal uplift and communion. In recent years, 2009’s tepid “No Line On The Horizon” and then last year’s free-to-iTunes album “Songs Of Innocence”–another record that receives an overly bad rap–unleashed untold levels of vitriol.

Of course, U2 aren’t the only massive artists on the receiving end of criticism. Once musicians reach a certain level of fame, it’s open season on everything from their background to their intentions to their (perceived) overexposure. Part of this comes with the territory: Because these acts feel so out-of-reach and untouchable, they’re particularly vulnerable to scrutiny, since it’s unlikely any sort of negative analysis will have repercussions. (The cumulative effect of rampant Internet pile-ons and snowballing social media negativity, however, is another topic for another day.) This same kind of fame also insulates artists from having to worry about repercussions; for example, in a 2014 Guardian interview, U2 are, collectively, rather unbothered by the post-iTunes hubbub. Fitting their personalities, guitarist the Edge is pragmatic and measured; drummer Larry Mullen is indifferent to any friction; bassist Adam Clayton is logical and matter-of-fact; and Bono is equal parts proud and defensive.

The ability to be indifferent is another consequence of the luxury of fame, and an admittedly slippery slope–one that could very easily lead to the kind of arrogance that produces tone-deaf decisions or misguided comments. In U2’s case, many saw Bono’s recent New York Times reconsideration of the iTunes deal as the latter. “I think Apple and we got a lot of the backlash that was headed to Big Tech for knowing too much about us,” he told Jon Pareles. “But in fact, Apple is not interested in every search you ever made — it’s only interested in your music, so it’s not fair to tar them with that brush. And as a person who’s been a lifelong member of Amnesty International, of all human-rights crimes I think that this kind of unwanted mail, if it’s at the top of your list or even halfway up it, your life is really fantastic.” The singer was obviously trying to not-so-subtly convey that complaining about receiving a free U2 album is a first-world problem, even if his execution inadvertently came across as him being a typically self-important do-gooder.

Yet such clumsiness is intrinsic to Bono’s personality: Despite his fame and ability to hobnob and hold his own intellectually with world leaders, he’s never quite grown out of being a loudmouthed Irishman who’s cheerfully, proudly imperfect and always having to apologize for social gracelessness. Depending on the level of fandom, this personality trait is either entirely charming or totally irritating, which no doubt explains quite a bit about why U2 is such a polarizing band. But it’s rare that Bono’s intentions are malicious, which makes the scorn he and the band receive that much more tiring: While he certainly doesn’t deserve a pass for some of his more controversial assertions–and his actions shouldn’t be immune to reasoned critical analysis–not every comment he makes deserves to be twisted into something inflammatory.