Author: Sandi Sadar Šoba
Artist: Pearl Jam
Label: Monkeywrench Records
Release: 2013
Length: 47:14
Rating: 4.8/5
What the hell was up with the critics and labels who, just because they came out of perpetually rainy Seattle, shoved Pearl Jam into the grunge pool of flannel, pathos, monotony and a once-potent but now thoroughly outlived format, a stuffed, branded grab bag of bands that had next to nothing in common? To this day there are dudes who can’t get over the fact that after the album Ten came the excellent Versus, then controversial turns away from the glitz (and misery) of watered-down stardom with Vitalogy, No Code, Yield, Binaural, Riot Act, Pearl Jam, Backspacer, and now, as proof that lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, 22 years later their latest album Lightning Bolt just doesn’t add up for them. A band of former teenagers and men in their early twenties has turned into an aging collective of men who can’t and aren’t allowed to sign up for teenage nonsense anymore, and the musical roots are getting more and more obvious too, all the shoots they’ve always grown their sound from, a mix of The Who, Neil Young, Ramones, Dick Dale, and as little as possible of anything resembling modern-day balls. It’s especially sweet when those of us who favor this evolution realize we’ve been aging and ripening in parallel with them and, partly thanks to them, feel more than great in our own skin (with the option of a turn for the better, of course). It’s also true that Pearl Jam are a band that, when creating and tailoring their always slightly different and upgraded creations, never looks to the wishes of the rest of the world, to the taste and opinion of the masses. Keeping their distance from the average warped taste of critics and crowds, they’ve stayed true to their mission, and at a time when most of their musical comrades are sounding the alarm over the changed rules of the music business, they not only manage to fill stadium arenas of megalomaniac proportions, but there’s not a shred of compromise or cheap selling-off of their own soul in any of it.
Four years after the punchy, purposely proclaimed Backspacer, Pearl Jam tune into their own soulful frequency without any sense of rush, hurry or compulsion, and the lineup has brought even more democracy into the creative process, with nearly every member involved (except drummer Matt Cameron, who evidently had too much work with Soundgarden). To round it off: almost 30 years of musical cohabitation and weaving a musical veil together has taught Stone Gossard, Mike McCready, Jeff Ament and that indestructible generator of passion, mystique and extraordinary radiance, the phenomenal vocalist Eddie Vedder, to read each other’s minds, fellow conspirators in a musical uprising and (r)evolution where anything goes. Yes, there’s a muted sense of déjà vu here, of something already seen and heard, but it blows in with an unsuppressed revolt against a restless home, political rebellion, and, on the other hand, a therapeutic reaching for the black warmth of vinyl, multi-meter ocean waves and surfing, and above all for mature, rock-solid rock’n’roll. The complication is only as much as Pearl Jam’s taste allows. This time Eddie asks questions fitting for a man approaching fifty, about morality, faith, the meaning of existence, and he always picks his own paths. The opener Getaway picks up right where Backspacer left off, recalling a lovely blend of two perfectly balanced punchy guitars, bass, drums and Vedder’s gorgeous smeared, muffled and eternally recognizable agonized vocal. We all take our own paths, and Ed has no intention of following anyone’s guidelines or directives. A rebel, sure, but a rebel with style and reason. And this rebel is a rebel with brains, who gives us the excellent Mind Your Manners (also known as Spin The Black Circle Part II). That same punkish punchiness, one of Vitalogy’s main trump cards, can be felt in the very essence of this musical offering, one you can’t shake thanks to the beautifully posed questions about the metaphysical truth of this world: »Go to heaven / That’s Swell / How you like your living Hell?«. Father’s Son is this time a reckoning with domestic psychopaths who, in the name of their genetic code and their own seed, sow violence and pain in their homes, breeding rage and dissatisfaction with their own lives on the backs of their wives and sons. In his own therapeutic way, Mike McCready bids farewell to, I’d guess, his late father, and with a whiff of Dick Dale, a surfer-playful Pearl Jam loosen up nicely already in the first half of this extraordinary reckoning with themselves, the world and the demons of their past, and give more than you’d have dared expect from them.
Sirens is anything but a power ballad. Pearl Jam is an apologetic song about love with a deeper warning. “We live our lives with death over our shoulders,” Eddie sings, and into the gorgeous weave of gliding, dreamy contours of guitars, keys, bass and drums something transcendent and otherworldly blends in organically, the kind of thing that will make you keep listening to the song, just like Hotel California, or the more “modern” take, anything from the Goo Goo Dolls catalog, for the same reasons. The payoff is emotional, and this time you can listen to the sensuality and feeling and taste it beautifully on the tip of your tongue for almost six whole minutes of a song that won’t leave you unmoved for a single moment! A gorgeous guitar solo, in the style of some Slash, damn it, more like Stone Gossard, weaves beautifully into a texture of purposely sensual world-weariness, which with Eddie’s interpretation comes off as meaningful and worth savoring. And in this sea of feeling there’s enough room for euphoria too, which pierces the haze of sadness with a punchy strike of lightning in the title track Lightning Bolt. The raw, unbridled teenage thrashing is gone, but Pearl Jam still burn, like The Who or The Beatles on more distorted guitars. And you stay with the latter even more in your head as the album continues with Infallible, which trips on, I agree with the comparison, the album Magical Mystery Tour; besides similar-sounding guitars, keys and drums, it gets a boost from the suggestive vocal modulation of that orator par excellence, Mr. Ed V. in person. And he’s the authority who four years ago vetoed the song Pendulum on Backspacer. This time the reworked song has picked up a little sonic dust of magic. Ed’s voice wandering from the left speaker to the right, a near Nick Cave feeling in the drums, bells and gorgeous muffled piano echoes somewhere in the background, and the simple song effectively crawls under your skin with every touch of the open strings, the breath of ominously sweet, aching cries from the great Vedder and his choir of hand-picked vocal PJ blossoms in full bloom. The suspense is perfect, and after the minimalism comes a gentle awakening with Swallow Whole. Joy in life, positivity, the lapping of waves, nature, maturity and adulthood bring in a bit of a breeze that has blown away all the demons of the past, and with an easy sound of near-Byrds guitars Pearl Jam worship the sun, the wind and the ocean, breathing out forgiveness, metaphysics and the anticipation of the inevitable.
Let The Records Play is sneaked in here just right, to relieve and cheer you up with a bit of Led Zeppelin heft and melodic rusticity, and Pearl Jam don’t sound cheap, worn out or faded in the slightest, while Stone “drives” it in a completely relaxed direction toward the end of the album. Swallowed Whole is damn reminiscent of what Eddie penned on his solo record Ukulele Songs, only this time instead of a ukulele it’s the collective backing of the whole PJ soldiery booming out of the speakers, tinting the song with the feel of late Beatles hero George Harrison, and not a gram of unnecessary patina settles on the contours of this easygoing little tune, which radiates loyalty to itself and its own principles. And because of those principles there’s plenty of room in this collage, this ocean of sound, for the mysticism and eclectic dreaminess of Yellow Moon and the sensuality of the heart-wrenching finale, Future Days, which radiates the refinement of veiled country, resonant in a way only veterans of Pearl Jam’s caliber can ooze. The promise of excellence, upgrading, improvement and maturing has been fulfilled completely!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b2Tt_QT7Z8Q
With the mythology, near-elusiveness and unboxable spirit of Pearl Jam in mind, I’d wrap up this train of thought today with the truth of the claim that some, only a few, are able to keep their own backbone in today’s world of trends and commandments. Pearl Jam were never trend followers, they chased trends off. What’s more, they picked their own paths and detours while staying true to their own principles, which is why nobody should have expected a rerun of Ten, Versus or the other eight albums. In that time the guys have matured, shed the outer layer of adolescent rebellion and become a band that suits middle-aged men and women too. Pearl Jam have become a band for all ages without selling out or losing themselves. Year after year they get closer to the gleam of the classics, and yet the vintage whiff doesn’t drive them into history’s junk room. Lifetime achievement awards and Hall of Fame inductions are part of the recognition that repays their effort and work, but more than cheap trophies and plaques on the wall, the men from a city wrapped in a veil of rain clouds and gray want to sow rays of unconventionality, beauty, heartfulness and radiant devotion to their own mission, which already puts them alongside the Stones, The Who, Ramones, Iggy and his soldiery, Neil Young and Crazy Horse, the ones they’ve always looked up to and longed after, and while reaching for the stars, knowing you can never step into the same river twice, they’ve always pushed the limits of their abilities a step, two, three further. 22 years after Ten, if I may close with it, Pearl Jam are more like themselves than at the start of the road, and what matters, as they themselves stress, is that they’re finally comfortable and feeling good in their own skin, which is as it should be. Lightning Bolt is a document of that, and we can only wish it stays that way for decades to come!
Lineup
Eddie Vedder – vocals, guitar
Stone Gossard – guitar
Mike McCready – guitar
Jeff Ament – bass
Matt Cameron – drums
GUEST MUSICIANS:
Brendan O’Brien – keyboards, guitar
Kenneth “Boom” Gaspar – keyboards
Ann Marie Simpson – violin
Production
Brendan O’Brien
Tracklist
1. Getaway
2. Mind Your Manners
3. My Father’s Son
4. Sirens
5. Lightning Bolt
6. Infallible
7. Pendulum
8. Swallowed Whole
9. Let The Records Play
10. Sleeping By Myself
11. Yellow Moon
12. Future Days
