M4TS Presents: The Livejournal Archive

Having borne witness to the Rock Machine that is Pearl Jam for the first time last night, I can only sit here and wonder: why did I not do this sooner? Is this what I’ve been missing out on for the last 10 years? What was I thinking? Mike McCready, bleached blonde and shirtless, chopping with his Flying V like some emocore kiddie who thinks “grunge” was some classic rock movement that happened once upon a time, then throwing it back behind his head for a solo like that other guy from Seattle, the guy who took too many drugs and died too young, 30 years before anyone heard of Kurt Cobain. Stone and Jeff, steady, consistent, tying down the sails as the maelstrom of sound propels them forth, a pair of granite boulders holding their ground since Before the Dawn of Time (aka Green River) and sure to be there after the end of it. Matt Cameron, perhaps the most solid drummer of his generation, who played on the demos of the 2nd greatest band of his generation, then took ten years off to form the 3rd greatest band of his generation and see it to completion before returning to the fold. (Oddly, with Cameron on board, were Chris Cornell to make a cameo with Pearl Jam it would be a de-facto Temple of the Dog performance). And of course, Eddie Vedder, hair cropped short, beginning to show his age on his face, but possessor still and always of the Voice of His Generation.

Yes, that’s right, the Voice of His Generation. Cobain’s gutteral rasp of nightmare fantasies and searing angst captured the true depths of our emotions in ways not seen before or since, the id of the lonely born in a town of with too much rain and not enough hope, but Vedder spoke to the full range of our feelings. Kurt was the perpetual victim, lost in a haze of anguish and heroin; Eddie was the survivor, left to come to terms with what had been done to him and to figure out what happens next. In Pearl Jam’s most successful single, Vedder sang of the boy who “seemed a harmless little fuck” but turned into a “lion” when pushed too far. But that was never Eddie’s place. Jeremy was Cobain’s brutalizing sadness, Staley’s dark fantasy world, Corgan’s overweening megalomania. Eddie Vedder was the brainy shy loner who sat in the back of the class, watched Jeremy make himself unerasable in a shower of blood, and spent the rest of his life trying to make sense of it all, to cull meaning from pointless self-destruction, most importantly to chronical it all, action and reaction. Eddie Vedder’s destiny was to tell us what Jeremy spoke in class that day. Ten years later, he’s not longer swinging from the rafters, but he’s still shouting from the rooftops.

If Pearl Jam are no longer in their prime, I shudder to think how tremendous they must have been in, say, 1993. But though the height of their popularity is likely behind them for good, they may well be in their prime right now. Older, sure, but no worse for the wear. Neil Young seems to have rubbed off on them; their live show is ferocious, their newest work is still relevant if no longer quite as compelling. “Better to burn out than to fade away” makes no reference to the observer; fading away isn’t about how bright you glow compared to the other stars in the sky, its about how hot the fire burns in your own Heart of Darkness. Who cares if they’re no longer in the spotlight; they’ve still got the passion, the mission, the will and the way, and they don’t look ready to give up the ghost anytime soon.

Last night’s setlist was perfect for fans like me, the ones who loved all of PJs earlier work but lost interest with each proceeding album. Very heavy on stuff from Vs. (my personal favorite), with the newer hits thrown in, a few gems from their latest effort Riot Act (I’m gonna have to go download the whole PJ catalog as it seems there’s some great songs I’ve just plain missed by not picking up the last few albums), and some tremendous renditions of old-school covers (Crazy Mary and Sonic Reducer). And in their ongoing quest outdo Phish and become the most fan-friendly band in history, the concert is available online NOW. Yes, that’s right, I saw them last night, and the show is available, officially, in it’s entirety, right now. 15 bucks to download the unmastered MP3s off the website immediately; they’ll follow up with a fully mastered 2CD set at your doorstep in 7-10 days. Now THAT’S service.

Other than the covers, highlights of the show included searing versions of Courduroy, Blood and Rearviewmirror, full crowd singalongs to Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town and Daughter, Eddie pulling this fantastic trick with a mirror, diverting the beam of an overhead spotlight into the audience, Eddie ranking on fellow San Diego legend Jewel, Eddie rocking out on the electric Ukulele, and well, Eddie just being Eddie.

I listened to Elderly Woman again this morning on my way to work. It’s long been one of my favorite PJ songs. There was a time where I would have ranked both Ten and Vs. in my top 10 favorite albums, but as they dropped from the public eye and my music tastes grew through phases of anthemic rock, 80’s post-punk, alt-country, and nu-indie/emo, they somehow got left behind in their small grunge town. They changed by not changing at all. I loved them, but hearts and thoughts they fade away. Then, last night, I walked into the arena to find them behind the counter. My god, it’s been so long, I never dreamed I’d return, but now here they are and here I am. This time, I’m not gonna leave.

[Man, this totally reminded me of how much I miss music writing. I need to get back into it. Anyone know of any magazines, newspapers, zines, whatever that could use a music writer?]