Pearl Jam are awkward
bastards. Not really participating in 'the business' since the
immense success of their first records perhaps frightened them into
reducing exposure to the limelight, they are not the most...
available band when it comes to touring. They sell out large venues
around the world without releasing an album. They only tour when
they want to, and play where they want to. Singles and music videos?
Not often. TV promotions and adverts? Forget about it. They know
the rules and choose to ignore them.
I have a DVD of said
awkward bastards playing Madison Square Garden. Shot on their 2003
tour, it shows them at their very best and I've probably seen it more
times than any DVD, save maybe Die Hard.
It never fails to make me smile. So when it came to planning a
once-in-a-lifetime trip to New York, Pearl Jam's tour dates played
heavily into my thinking. Could I possibly get time off work,
flights to New York and
notoriously elusive tickets to see one of my favourite bands in an
iconic venue? Thanks to the combined efforts of my wife, my American
host Chris, and myself, you're damn right I could.
A
few weeks before going I realised that there wasn't another band in
the world that I would do this for: Therapy? are my favourites but
they tour regularly; Metallica seem to have vanished up their own
arses but whenever they reappear they do tend to tour heavily.
Clutch, Every Time I Die, The Wildhearts or Mastodon either don't
have the same place in my heart or are relatively easy to see. I
have crossed an ocean to see Pearl Jam play, such is their importance
to my life.
Finding
myself a block away from The Garden I bumped into some friendly
Norwegians shared drinks and Pearl Jam memories with them in a nearby
Irish bar. We discussed the tricky subject of their set list. In a
career dating back to 1991, the only dead cert to be played tonight
is 'Even Flow' from their debut Ten.
Even uber-single 'Alive' isn't guaranteed. We all took a stab at
which song they'd open with (last time out it was slow number
'Sometimes' and they have a tendency to open from left field). We
were, as it transpired, all wrong.
Wishing
each other a good time, we headed in; the excitement as I passed
through security and found my seat was uncontainable. Somebody there
on the night can probably confirm seeing a lost Englishman grinning
from ear to ear if you care to check. I bought a plastic cup of the
worst and most expensive beer I have ever experienced and took my
seat, befriending some locals while we waited for showtime.
My
pick for opening song, the wistful 'Of The Girl', was blown out of
the water when Pearl Jam nonchalantly walked on-stage, as though they
were strolling into Asda, and open with 'Go', a fast number from
their sophomore album Vs . They
breathlessly follow with nippy recent song 'Mind Your Manners'. It's
clear that they don't intend to fuck about tonight: its going to be a
rock show.
Arguably
as big an appeal as Eddie Vedder's sublime voice or Mike McCready's
insane guitar playing is the sheer unpredictability of their shows.
With ten studio albums, an EP, a double album of B-sides and some
regular cover versions to choose from (also considering that their
two best songs aren't even on a studio album), they can and do mix up
their set list. Tonight, they play for three hours and there are a
good few surprises, including a Doobie Brothers cover, some Mother
Love Bone material (including a moving 'Crown Of Thorns') and
renditions of 'Rats', 'Down' and 'Footsteps', the latter of which has
several grown men in tears, myself included.
For
an arena band, there is remarkably little about Pearl Jam that is
showy or screams 'rock stars'. They put on a show this good by being
unpredictable, earnest and passionate about what they do; they don't
do gimmicks and they don't dial it in. In Matt Cameron they have the
best drummer of the 1990s Seattle scene (yes, including him); the
band's bedrock partnership of Jeff Ament and Stone Gossard look like
they are, respectively, a jock and a nerd who have accidentally
started the best band in the world but are tight as you'd want; Mike
McCready is a frighteningly talented guitar player, one whose playing
just feels natural and real; and in Eddie Vedder they have a frontman
with the voice of god and a knack for making a large venue seem small
and intimate. He can make you feel like he's singing directly to you
in a crowd of 20,000. He must have given up the cigarettes too,
because he sounds better tonight than he has in ages. Tonight they
are all on top form, full of energy and enthusiasm and it's
incredible to witness.
An
audience-led 'Better Man' sends shivers down the spine; a song with
an unpleasant subject matter is turned into a joyous, hopeful
singalong. Anti-grunge anthem 'Corduroy' is as fierce as it was in
1994. 'Given To Fly' is beautifully uplifting. 'Why Go' is angry and
rebellious, and 'Wishlist' is a simple and hopeful moment that makes
the whole room smile. In an extensive setlist full of highlights,
the only low light for me is 'Low Light' but only because I don't
really like it to begin with. As well as playing a comprehensive,
crowd-pleasing set, 'Even Flow', 'Rearviewmirror', and 'Porch' are
turned into extended jams which never feel self indulgent. The
expensive refurbishment of Madison Square Garden will prove to be
worth every penny if the sound quality is this good every night. If
only somebody would plough $1bn into Newcastle arena...
There
are moments of sheer beauty in the show; things that will stay with
me forever. 'Release' is played early on when for many bands this
would be a set closer. It's moving, full of pain and hope. 'Elderly
Woman...', sportingly played to the fans sitting behind the stage, is
a wistful, fragile song. 'Black', as it has been since 1991, is a
heartbreaker and I don't think there's anyone in the room who isn't
feeling something when they sing the “I know someday you'll
have a beautiful life...” part. The audience helps them out by
singing the closing melody over and over until it fades out. It's a
beautiful moment and hard to describe how special it felt to be part
of it.
By
their 2nd encore, I'm exhausted. Two and a half hours
have passed but they show no signs of slowing. After 'Black' they go
into 'Alive' and the mob goes wild. Never has the title of a song so
aptly described the effect of hearing it live. That the lyrics are
personal to Vedder is so strange when you hear them simultaneously
mean something different to 20,000 people. He throws a seemingly
endless supply of tambourines into the crowd during the solo before
bringing the song to a crashing close. It had to be the end,
didn't it?
Hell
no. Neil Young cover 'Rockin' In The Free World', sounding crisp,
vital and fresh, is an anthem for a troubled world and just a great
rock song. McCready's leads are piercing and full of soul
(Seriously, is this guy possessed? It's like a demon got in him and
it an only be kept at bay with face-melting guitar solos). End of
the set? Not quite. With the house lights coming up they show
things down to close with 'Indifference'; the line “I will scream
my lungs out 'til it fills this room. How much difference does it
make?” particularly poignant after what's just been witnessed.
How
much difference did it make? I walked from Madison Square Garden
about ten blocks North to see Times Square at midnight, alone in a
strange city. Times Square is an awesome spectacle of advertising
and artifice but compared to what I just saw, insignificant and
hollow. Pearl Jam at Madison Square Garden: it was important, it was
emotional, it was worth crossing an ocean for. Awkward bastards, and
I wouldn't want them any other way.
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