Pearl Jam [Digipak] - Pearl Jam (CD 2006)

Of all the bands of the grunge era, there are five that managed back in the 90s to separate themselves from the rest, whether it be by creating something new, opting to inspire revolution, or simply achieving extreme commercial success (in some cases, more after death than before) before that got taken and sucked up into what's now known as post-grunge to keep those masses happy (another story entirely). The five (six, because one was inadvertently added later):
Nirvana
Pearl Jam
Alice In Chains
Soundgarden
Mudhoney
Stone Temple Pilots

Why Pearl Jam should be feeling in the primest of those above positions right now?

Even though the individual band members have been through what could be called a hard time of late, the highly esteemed, once media-shy fivesome are all that's left of those five pioneers (apart from Mudhoney, who are as commercially shunned still as they ever were), and after being absent from the scene for three long, excruciating for some, years, as well as dropping a poorly-compilated live 'collection' and so-called 'Greatest' Hits in between shots, Pearl Jam returned to the studio to bring us the goods once more, their eighth self-titled album, that was promoted from within early on as a 'return to the vein' of earlier outings Ten and Vs.. And the hype was huge.

But forming an opinion about an artist based on hype alone can be dangerous by any denominator - just ask contemporary stalwarts The Rolling Stones! Some have even given up their respect for the band in the belief that they've had nothing to offer since their first few treasured recordings. Nevertheless, while the weather-beaten group are addressing topics on the latest addition to their collection that have been recycled and rephrased many times before, and that many another would have trouble getting away with, you find yourself more relieved that this self-titled advocate will gladly provide some straight-up hard rock that generally stays on the right track for 2006.

It doesn't look like much of an album...

Tossed down to Earth starring a bisected avocado on it's otherwise dull-blue artwork, Pearl Jam prove that initial first reactions, no matter how long ago they were formed, can be overcome. Spoken, forced rather, through the tongue of lead singer Eddie Vedder are spouts of fiery anti-war and political accusations, and the course of these thirteen tracks often follows two, but only two, molds. Tense, gravelly rock songs charged with the weight of those throwbacks, or barren, drawn-out balladry. Not that there's anything wrong with that most of the time.

Chances are you've heard 'World Wide Suicide' by now - it's the steaming logical choice to lead off an album such as this, with the most studio sheen wrapped around it's upbeat guitar licks and vocal parries. The lyrics, as an anti-Bush rant, are mildly effective, though they have the tendency to slip into vague and never truly open eyes. Plus a hysterical Rolling Stone writer was raving about the anger Vedder put into his acid-on-sandpaper delivery; needless to say, those who are misguided enough to think him truly angry would need urgent advice on seriously pissed-off music, but then again, that's beyond the point. This slab of music concrete, if definitely not the best of what's contained, is reasonably representative of the disc's standards.

A better choice for the grand opening promo roll out the red carpet drill would have been the opener 'Life Wasted,' which preludes 'World Wide Suicide.' It's ten times more immediate, plus Vedder and guitar player Mike McCready undertake a cohesive tug-o-war that's intriguing to experience, plus the song gets to soar on the muscle of it's chorus, via the lyrics, ('I escaped it / A life wasted / I am never going back again / Having tasted / A life wasted / I am never going back again'), which put a hardened, satirical edge on to the words. In fact, it's so damn good that the band feel the need to tantalize our interests later and throw in a segment of the song in a fifty-second, down-tempod intermission called 'Wasted Reprise,' which turns out to be a thorough waste of time, in itself.

'Comatose,' too, follows through on the promise of speed and passion; it's a hook-heavy, servicable guns-blazing number that thrashes brainlessly around for 190 seconds before Eddie's growls and the percussion driven thump-stomp fade aprubtly back into the nothing from whence they came.

One of the biggest problems I have with the record, though, is that it has some tremendous highs which grow with each committed listen then some trashy, uninspired lows, often right next to each other (groan, groan). Let me be the first to say that I really don't like median snooze pill 'Parachutes' - there's nothing to lifeless acoustic guitar chords, gentlemen, and Vedder tries really, really hard to find something useful like introspection or a dab of regret, but arrives all the same at boredom's door. At this point you have to ask a question: is it possible to get an all-over emptier ballad than this? Ditto for the first thirty seconds or so of 'Gone' before it develops self-independence - in that former portion, Vedder sounds like a hollow, lazy rendition of Johnny Cash.

'Unemployable' follows, and while it's impossible to deny the degree of bombast as the pragmatic cut builds to it's climax, a series of 'uh-wuh-hah-ho!'s, it's a presumably cynical ode to hypocrites, liars and masters of deceit (ahem... George. W. Bush.) that doesn't continue the disturbing trend of recording in a giant tin can to roughen Vedder's tone and make it seem like back in the early 90s if you close your eyes. Melody meets tinkling, cruising instrumentals in a clash of rare smoothness that almost seems faux-R.E.M.. Not to mention the hook; 'I'm scared alive, near to death.' Is Eddie Vedder mocking angst?

Of course, it couldn't last: 'Big Wave' was thrown in on a last minute decision and sounds so rushed and improvised that we could easily do without it, and 'Army Reserve,' while the watery, effervescent riff helps bring out the Bono in Eddie's voice, it's overrun by static-y production and forgettable, when audible, poetry. It's also disappointing to see that the adventurers couldn't summon one last burst of breathtaking-ness for their conclusion; they devote their energies instead to a bland, 7-minute behemoth called 'Inside Job,' with a guitar solo and some digitally enhanced tinkering thrown in for good measure.

So there you have it, the eighth Pearl Jam album, cover to cover, without stopping. You'll be sent on a bumpy, jumping ride that dashes in and out of finger pointing and mourning, and your heart will be rushing to adapt. Fatally flawing is that it's thirteen tracks last too long; it wouldn't hurt to remove the four most skippable and make use of the nine-track LP, a tactic to keep the fanbase begging for more. That said, Pearl Jam's Pearl Jam is still a noteworthy accomplishment, if overrated (particularly it's first single), and probably the most tight and together these five misfits have sounded in a while. Though the new Audioslave album, scheduled for release this year, might serve up the red flags for this dosage of traditionaly grunge (Chris Cornell's texture is so similar), the rest of the post grunge heap could take some lessons from this old bag of tricks.

Track List
(members in bold may be of some interest to you)
1. Life Wasted
2. World Wide Suicide
3. Comatose
4. Severed Hand
5. Marker In the Sand
6. Parachutes
7. Unemployable
8. Big Wave
9. Gone
10. Wasted Reprise
11. Army Reserve
12. Come Back
13. Inside Job

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Thank you.