Seven Songs in the Life of a Pearl Jam Fan

Pearl Jam is about to embark on their sixth tour of Australia, and while many will be awaiting well-known tunes such as “Alive” and “Better Man”, others will be listening for the first note or two of tracks they want to hear for more personal, maybe even spiritual, reasons.

In an episode of 1990s US sitcom Seinfeld, one of Elaine’s boyfriends looks towards the heavens upon hearing the Eagles’ “Desperado”.

My reaction may not be quite as extreme, but I have caught myself on many an occasion searching for the Pearly Jam Gates in the sky when Eddie Vedder’s voice fills the air.

I have an inkling I am not the only person who feels this way about Pearl Jam, or others about other bands gracing a stage somewhere in the world. There is something about music – and the concept of the same group of people delivering it over time – which not only floats the boat of a horde of fans across the planet, but has their little sea vessels flying off into the clouds.

We Pearl Jammers are no different, but strangely to each other we are. It only takes a chat with a few fellow aficionados to realise everyone’s favourite songs over the journey are hardly ever the same.

Why is this so? Well, my theory is the band – whether by sheer luck or design – has managed to maintain a connection to an army of followers from their teenage years to their late 30s-early 40s, armed only with a catalogue which has now grown to about 200 songs.

This is an army with members from most corners of the globe leading wildly diverse lives, and who hear and comprehend Pearl Jam songs at different points within that life.

The people within this army, however, have one thing in common – half a lifetime spent listening and finding meaning from the same band.

To illustrate my point, I’ve self-indulged and put together a small selection of tracks which show how I have grown with Pearl Jam, and how its songs have given me solace during tough times, a reminder of what is important, or direction on the right path through life.

“Indifference” (From the album Vs, released in 1993)

“I’ll swallow poison, until I grow immune. I will scream my lungs out, ‘til it fills this room… How much difference … does it make?”

Growing up in a country town public housing area – and one consistently ranked as one of the most disadvantaged socio-economic areas in the country – was the perfect recipe to become a Pearl Jam fan.

For starters, as every man and his dog tried to make big bucks out of grunge, the price of flannelette shirts went through the roof. Luckily, flannels were already a wardrobe staple in the ‘hood, so my clothing collection went from “bin” to “in” without spending a cent.

Heavy rock music during the early 1990s was all about excess – Guns N’ Roses was huge out in the sticks. There was something about Axl Rose’s “up yours” swagger, but over time I had grown tired of his prima donna ways and annoyingly nasal voice.

Pearl Jam, and Eddie Vedder’s voice, were different in almost every way. This was the perfect antidote, with “Alive”, “Black” and “Garden” (which I still rate as one of guitarist Mike McCready’s best efforts) quickly becoming favourites.

“Indifference”, off the band’s second album, was a brilliant vaccine to the amplified anxiety of a 17-year-old doing his VCE, and still struggling with the transition from boy to man when exams, girls and life in general brought about many “hair pulling out moments” (which I blame for my lack of hair today).

This song perfectly illustrated the frustration of seemingly having no power or effect in the world in a calming way, moving the hands away from the hair to tapping softly on the bedroom wall.

“Not For You” (Vitalogy, 1994)

“All that’s sacred, comes from youth, dedications, naïve and true, with no power, nothing to do, I still remember, why don’t you? Don’t you?”

Vitalogy is one of the few CDs I still remember buying – the day was December 6, 1994, and I was an 18-year-old harness racing stablehand starting what would be a one-week job shuffling manure with one the state’s top trainers south-east of Melbourne.

The pay was decent enough ($200 a week plus board and food), but the accommodation – a five-bunk tin shed – wasn’t, especially during the summer.

Temperatures soared into the mid to high 30 degrees (Celsius, nudging 100 for you Fahrenheit types) and probably more than 50C in the shed during the day.

Luckily, I had my light-brown Mazda 323 wagon to sleep in, which was slightly cooler. Even better, I had a portable CD player.

I still remember settling in the back of the wagon, sweating and wondering what the hell I was doing in such a predicament, listening to Vitalogy for the first time.

“Not For You” – and in particular Eddie’s knowing line: “can’t escape from the common rule, if you hate something, don’t you do it too” – resonated with me instantly. A day or two later I quit.

I probably would have walked anyway, but I still feel that night in the back of the wagon made a good decision arrive earlier.

Great bands come and go, and up until then Pearl Jam was one of those bands: Vitalogy elevated the band to a higher plane.

“I Got ID” (Merkin Ball, 1995)

“So I’ll just lie alone and I’ll wait for the dream, where I am not ugly and you’re looking at me.”

This song – recorded with the so-called “grandfather of grunge”, Neil Young – was the crème de la crème for any self-loathing teenager who had experienced what they thought was unrequited love in the mid-1990s.

I was one of many 19-year-olds who fitted the bill, and for some strange reason thought I was the only person with such downtrodden thoughts running through my mind. At the time I thought I was a young man on the outer in a small country town. Turns out there were many more in similar, if not worse, positions than me, including Vedder.

This track is a perfect example of how Pearl Jam’s words and lyrics can meld into one. Young’s song-ending guitar solo amplifies the mood of resignation in the lyrics, which are often disputed because they seem to have never been officially released.

The song’s meaning has never been doubted.

“Present Tense” (No Code, 1996)

“You can spend your life alone, redigesting past regrets, oh. Or you can come to terms and realise you’re the only one who cannot forgive yourself, oh. It makes much more sense, to live in the present tense.”

The mid-1990s was a period of transition. The record company-propelled grunge movement died with the tragic passing of Kurt Cobain. Music executives were looking for the next cash cow.

I was in transition myself – from Bendigo to Maryborough, a smaller country Victorian town nearby.

I had grown up…slightly. I was still racing horses, but had also scored my first steady and comparatively well-paid job on the floor of a book publishing factory.

Still only 20, I was starting to carve out my life, a life that was – courtesy of 16-hour working days – pretty uninspiring. Thoughts of regret for ditching the chance to go to university for harness racing began to surface, especially when the horses I trained became slower and slower.

This song – which posed the questions “Do you see the way that tree bends? Does it inspire?” and “are you getting something out of this all-encompassing trip?” – was a reminder that the past was exactly that, and there was a great future ahead if I wanted it.

It probably took me a few too many years – and a heavy dose of the familiar-themed “All Those Yesterdays” (Yield, 1998) for the message to sink in, but I’m no longer one for redigesting past regrets.

“I am Mine” (Riot Act, 2002)

“I know I was born and I know that I’ll die – the in between is mine, I am mine.”

Life has its up and downs, and unbeknownst to me at the time, Pearl Jam was going through a tough period in the late 1990s. McCready was battling drug and alcohol issues, and the band was close to disbanding.

Looking back, I wasn’t in the best place either. The long days in Maryborough working slow horses and manufacturing books, coupled with an ever-increasing love of all things beer and bourbon, had me in a rut.

Pearl Jam released the mostly underwhelming Binaural (if you can apologise to songs, sorry to “Nothing as it Seems”, “Light Years”, “Sleight of Hand” and “Parting Ways” in 2000, the same year I bit the bullet, moved to Melbourne and enrolled in university.

A couple of years later, Pearl Jam released Riot Act – and the first song released was “I am Mine”, a vindication of the move and the fact I was finally in control of my life.

While I would eventually click with other songs off this album, the connection with “I am Mine” was instant.

“Life Wasted” (Pearl Jam, 2006)

“Darkness comes in waves, tell me, why invite it to stay? You’re warm with negativity, yes comfort is an energy, but why let the sad song play?”

This song can be a godsend for someone who focuses on life’s negatives, something I was often guilty of.

“Life Wasted” was released on the band’s self-titled album. I was finishing university and starting out a career in journalism. I began my career as a greenhorn scribe in Bendigo and, later in the year, moved to the UK where I would spend 12 months working for a daily in Devon.

In the rare moments life was getting me down (homesickness, general crappiness, ran out of wineness), I listened to this track.

These “darker moments” have become fewer and farther between as I have grown older and – with the help of family and friends – wiser. How could I argue with the above lyrics?

“Unthought Known” (Backspacer, 2009)

“Look for love in evidence that you’re worth keeping, swallowed whole in negatives, it’s so sad and sickening, feel the air up above, a pool of blue sky, fill the air up with love, all black with starlight.”

By now most members of Pearl Jam were married and/or had children. In another coincidence, one month after Backspacer was released I met the woman who would become my wife. Did this song and album help me open my heart for such a special person? Maybe.

It didn’t matter. I finally had someone I wanted to share the rest of my life with. Riot Act’s “Love Boat Captain” became the song for our wedding dance.

One thing is certain: the band’s latest effort, Lightning Bolt – released three days after my wedding – has songs, such as “Sirens” and “Future Days”, which ensure the 20-year plus connection I (and now my wife too) have with Pearl Jam will remain.

Many find direction through religion, but I am far from a pious person. I use friends, family and music – in particular Pearl Jam – to guide me through life.

Would I be in the same position in life today if it wasn’t for Pearl Jam? Who knows – I don’t believe their music has made me make life-changing decisions, but it has reminded me of lessons I have already learnt and been an emotional leveller during tough times…a spiritual guidance through life’s ups and downs.