That text was random, I thought. But also, mumblecore, hahahaha!
I could picture Eddie running all the words to "Yellow Ledbetter" together as I happily hum along, unaware that it’s a serious song about our government’s mistreatment of veterans because I don’t understand a word he’s saying.
The author of the text bomb is a good friend—witty, funny, insightful, and unconditionally supportive. She made a solid point with the mumblecore thing, and I wanted to commiserate.
Hell no, I don’t get it! They suck! He sounds like he’s trying to sing while stuffing his face with a peanut butter sandwich!
But I love them and couldn’t bring myself to do it. They came along when I was in college in the early 1990s and made my penchant for wearing clothes that looked like I’d slept in them—maybe I had—popular. Suddenly glam was gone, and haggard was hip.
For someone with pessimistic leanings like me, they confirmed what I thought I already knew about the world. If I couldn’t understand what Eddie was saying, I figured it was only because he was singing through his tears, and I liked them even more. CD jackets—remember those?—were for reading the lyrics.
To this day, I detest showiness and somehow find depressing music uplifting. It didn’t matter who I was talking with, friend or foe, I couldn’t deny my nostalgic admiration for PJ.
I'm not much for long text exchanges, so I called her to explain.
“I still prefer the radio when I’m driving, and I stop scanning through stations when any of 15 or 20 of their songs come on, even though I’ve heard them all a hundred times. There’s also one of my all-time favorites, ‘Hunger Strike’ by Temple of the Dog—everybody from PJ shortly before they existed plus Chris Cornell, so close enough. Yeah, I guess it’s safe to say I get the hype.”
“Huh. I don’t think I know 15 Pearl Jam songs. ‘Hunger Strike’ is great, though.”
Oh dear, this was going to be an uphill battle. She’s firmly entrenched in Gen X like me, so I know she knows staples like “Jeremy,” “Alive,” and “Evenflow.” If those hadn’t swayed her, maybe a few less familiar tracks might.
I didn’t dig deep into their catalog. I just tried to think of a few she might not have heard in a while to see if they would elicit some happy memory of rocking to PJ at a college party or tailgate.
“How about ‘Why Go,’ ‘Dissident,’ ‘Nothingman,’ ‘Corduroy,’ or maybe ‘Hail, Hail,’” I offered. “Those are some great rockers!”
“Never heard of ‘em.”
I could see this was a lost cause. Descending into my own version of mumblecore I weakly offered, “Oh, well, maybe check those out sometime,” and changed the subject.
Over the next week, I thought sporadically about our conversation. As one of the “big four” bands representing the Seattle sound, Pearl Jam was a big deal in their day.
But what about now? I’m not dumb enough to think of them as the “it” sound all these years later. Heck, my teenage nephews don’t even know who they are. Taylor Swift, herself probably well into the back nine of her heyday of pop culture influence, released a new album on the same day Pearl Jam released Dark Matter. I’ve no doubt hers will outsell theirs “Ten”-fold (weak pun intended).
Unless we’re talking about Planet of the Apes that’s set for a new blockbuster opening in a few weeks and has outlasted both Charlton Heston and Moses, nobody remains on top of the mountain for long. What I was wondering about is their place in Rock history.
Are they legendary like The Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin? If not, are they at least enduring like Aerosmith and AC/DC?
Or will they fade completely into obscurity like so many others? Unless I missed something, Coldplay couldn’t have picked a more appropriate name, and I’d swear Maroon 5 was actually marooned on some deserted island if their lead singer hadn’t washed ashore as a gameshow host.
To be fair to PJ, having their own SiriusXM channel says something about their staying power. In asking these questions, however, what I realized about my relationship with them—a band I claim to adore—is that my admiration is stuck firmly in the 1990s.
They’ve released twelve studio albums. I only know the first four well. Those are the ones any casual fan is likely to have some familiarity with—Ten, Vs., Vitalogy, and No Code. Not having bothered to listen to several of them even “Once” (I can keep going with these), I realized I’m hardly an authority on their legacy.
With a long drive ahead of me on Dark Matter’s release day and their channel devoting the entire day to promoting it, I decided it was high time I started bringing myself up to speed. I settled in and immersed myself, listening to every track at least three times while I drove.
In discovering this awesome album, I rediscovered this incredible band!
I can’t read music. I don’t even play an instrument. Hell, I’m tone-deaf. But I know what I like and can tell you why in plain English, without any fancy critic-speak about vocal technique, musical arrangements, or any other technical jargon that probably goes right over most people’s heads and certainly leaves mine spinning.
The highest praise I can give Dark Matter is that the songs I like best aren’t among the two I think they’ll promote hardest—the title track and “Setting Sun.” Those are both solid, but my picks will likely be considered deeper cuts, or at least not as heavily played singles.
That could have two very different meanings. Either the songs they thought would be the album’s anchors aren’t as good as they hoped, or there are some other excellent tracks on it.
I know what I heard and I’m trying harder to be a glass-half-full type of person, so I’m going with the latter interpretation. If I’m right, Dark Matter has legs to stick around longer than just a couple of singles would give it.
My favorite track is “Won’t Tell.” That song’s melody hooked me from the beginning and wouldn’t let go. Possible mumbling accusations aside—and I don’t think Eddie does that on this one—interesting lyrics like “As she smiled and played a minor chord in a key I’d never heard before” kept me engaged throughout.
When he sings “I’ll be the last one standing” on “Got To Give,” he’s speaking an obvious and unfortunate truth about his era. He may not have intended that reference, but it adds depth to a fine song about a tumultuous relationship.
I might break a hip moshing these days (I didn’t say who’s), but “Running” reminds me of some of their earlier punk-influenced tracks. What little self-restraint I’ve developed in my decrepitude may prevent me from jumping into a pit, but I’m not promising I won’t go rogue and throw a few couch pillows around the living room rocking out to it.
“Wreckage” hearkens back to the gloomy themes that have been Pearl Jam hallmarks and should resonate with anyone who’s tasted the bitterness of regret. They’ve always conveyed earnest emotion, and their approach to this song made me believe they have experience with their chosen subject. Having survived into their late fifties and early sixties now, they almost certainly do.
As a young man, I related to the youthful angst I heard in their music. Now well into middle age, my concerns are different. Science tells us Neanderthals evolved, and I’m living proof.
To expect a band to remain creatively the same for thirty-plus years is as unfair as expecting an individual to halt their development. Would you even want that?
I’m a huge Tool fan, but they’re not still making songs like “Sober” and “Stinkfist.” These days, they sing on “Invincible” about their current reality of “struggling to remain consequential.”
Speaking as a fellow fifty-something, maintaining some semblance of relevance becomes a much bigger concern at this age than youthful struggles like trying to satisfy ever-more-depraved cravings. I wish being bored with regular sex was my biggest problem, and I bet Maynard wishes it was his biggest, too!
The point I’m trying to make is that if you haven’t listened to anything new from Pearl Jam in several decades, don’t pick up Dark Matter hoping for Ten. That wouldn’t be fair to you or them.
They’re still a powerful band with much to say about what it means to live on this rock, but they’re singing about what that’s like in 2024, not 1994. Dark Matter has me looking forward to going back and listening to the other seven albums I missed while growing up and living my life (i.e., paying bills).
I don’t see a “Setting Sun” on the horizon for Pearl Jam for quite some time. Glancing in the “Rearviewmirror” twenty years from now, I suspect “Immortality” is their most likely epitaph.
Okay, I’ll stop now!
“Huh. I don’t think I know 15 Pearl Jam songs. ‘Hunger Strike’ is great, though.”
Oh dear, this was going to be an uphill battle. She’s firmly entrenched in Gen X like me, so I know she knows staples like “Jeremy,” “Alive,” and “Evenflow.” If those hadn’t swayed her, maybe a few less familiar tracks might.
I didn’t dig deep into their catalog. I just tried to think of a few she might not have heard in a while to see if they would elicit some happy memory of rocking to PJ at a college party or tailgate.
“How about ‘Why Go,’ ‘Dissident,’ ‘Nothingman,’ ‘Corduroy,’ or maybe ‘Hail, Hail,’” I offered. “Those are some great rockers!”
“Never heard of ‘em.”
I could see this was a lost cause. Descending into my own version of mumblecore I weakly offered, “Oh, well, maybe check those out sometime,” and changed the subject.
Over the next week, I thought sporadically about our conversation. As one of the “big four” bands representing the Seattle sound, Pearl Jam was a big deal in their day.
But what about now? I’m not dumb enough to think of them as the “it” sound all these years later. Heck, my teenage nephews don’t even know who they are. Taylor Swift, herself probably well into the back nine of her heyday of pop culture influence, released a new album on the same day Pearl Jam released Dark Matter. I’ve no doubt hers will outsell theirs “Ten”-fold (weak pun intended).
Unless we’re talking about Planet of the Apes that’s set for a new blockbuster opening in a few weeks and has outlasted both Charlton Heston and Moses, nobody remains on top of the mountain for long. What I was wondering about is their place in Rock history.
Are they legendary like The Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin? If not, are they at least enduring like Aerosmith and AC/DC?
Or will they fade completely into obscurity like so many others? Unless I missed something, Coldplay couldn’t have picked a more appropriate name, and I’d swear Maroon 5 was actually marooned on some deserted island if their lead singer hadn’t washed ashore as a gameshow host.
To be fair to PJ, having their own SiriusXM channel says something about their staying power. In asking these questions, however, what I realized about my relationship with them—a band I claim to adore—is that my admiration is stuck firmly in the 1990s.
They’ve released twelve studio albums. I only know the first four well. Those are the ones any casual fan is likely to have some familiarity with—Ten, Vs., Vitalogy, and No Code. Not having bothered to listen to several of them even “Once” (I can keep going with these), I realized I’m hardly an authority on their legacy.
With a long drive ahead of me on Dark Matter’s release day and their channel devoting the entire day to promoting it, I decided it was high time I started bringing myself up to speed. I settled in and immersed myself, listening to every track at least three times while I drove.
In discovering this awesome album, I rediscovered this incredible band!
I can’t read music. I don’t even play an instrument. Hell, I’m tone-deaf. But I know what I like and can tell you why in plain English, without any fancy critic-speak about vocal technique, musical arrangements, or any other technical jargon that probably goes right over most people’s heads and certainly leaves mine spinning.
The highest praise I can give Dark Matter is that the songs I like best aren’t among the two I think they’ll promote hardest—the title track and “Setting Sun.” Those are both solid, but my picks will likely be considered deeper cuts, or at least not as heavily played singles.
That could have two very different meanings. Either the songs they thought would be the album’s anchors aren’t as good as they hoped, or there are some other excellent tracks on it.
I know what I heard and I’m trying harder to be a glass-half-full type of person, so I’m going with the latter interpretation. If I’m right, Dark Matter has legs to stick around longer than just a couple of singles would give it.
My favorite track is “Won’t Tell.” That song’s melody hooked me from the beginning and wouldn’t let go. Possible mumbling accusations aside—and I don’t think Eddie does that on this one—interesting lyrics like “As she smiled and played a minor chord in a key I’d never heard before” kept me engaged throughout.
When he sings “I’ll be the last one standing” on “Got To Give,” he’s speaking an obvious and unfortunate truth about his era. He may not have intended that reference, but it adds depth to a fine song about a tumultuous relationship.
I might break a hip moshing these days (I didn’t say who’s), but “Running” reminds me of some of their earlier punk-influenced tracks. What little self-restraint I’ve developed in my decrepitude may prevent me from jumping into a pit, but I’m not promising I won’t go rogue and throw a few couch pillows around the living room rocking out to it.
“Wreckage” hearkens back to the gloomy themes that have been Pearl Jam hallmarks and should resonate with anyone who’s tasted the bitterness of regret. They’ve always conveyed earnest emotion, and their approach to this song made me believe they have experience with their chosen subject. Having survived into their late fifties and early sixties now, they almost certainly do.
As a young man, I related to the youthful angst I heard in their music. Now well into middle age, my concerns are different. Science tells us Neanderthals evolved, and I’m living proof.
To expect a band to remain creatively the same for thirty-plus years is as unfair as expecting an individual to halt their development. Would you even want that?
I’m a huge Tool fan, but they’re not still making songs like “Sober” and “Stinkfist.” These days, they sing on “Invincible” about their current reality of “struggling to remain consequential.”
Speaking as a fellow fifty-something, maintaining some semblance of relevance becomes a much bigger concern at this age than youthful struggles like trying to satisfy ever-more-depraved cravings. I wish being bored with regular sex was my biggest problem, and I bet Maynard wishes it was his biggest, too!
The point I’m trying to make is that if you haven’t listened to anything new from Pearl Jam in several decades, don’t pick up Dark Matter hoping for Ten. That wouldn’t be fair to you or them.
They’re still a powerful band with much to say about what it means to live on this rock, but they’re singing about what that’s like in 2024, not 1994. Dark Matter has me looking forward to going back and listening to the other seven albums I missed while growing up and living my life (i.e., paying bills).
I don’t see a “Setting Sun” on the horizon for Pearl Jam for quite some time. Glancing in the “Rearviewmirror” twenty years from now, I suspect “Immortality” is their most likely epitaph.
Okay, I’ll stop now!
Photo credit: Alive87, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons
