Lollapalooza | Corduroy Notes

I’m still wearing flip flops most days, my son wears shorts to school and my daughter refuses to wear a coat, but it’s undeniable that it is now fall. (I never realized that my children’s penchant for inappropriate seasonal attire came from me until I typed that sentence. Hmm.) The rain is here and focus has shifted indoors, not that I really mind. But it does feel like time to put away summertime music and concert memories.

Time, also, to put away the Pearl Jam cloud that I’ve been living under for the past few months. (“Alive…Encore Break“, “Twenty“). But not, of course, without reflection. Indulge me one last PJ post as I recount, in no particular order, my Top Ten favorite Pearl Jam concert memories (so far):

1. Lollapalooza, July 1992, Kitsap County Fair Grounds. My first time seeing them live, and I am totally hooked – no looking back. Enough said. (“Drop the Gyro and Run“).

2. Magnuson Park, “Drop in the Park”, September 1992. I’ve just started law school. I probably should be in the library, but the allure of a free show in Magnuson Park is infinitely more appealing than Crim Law. Eddie climbs the trusses like a monkey and swings from a microphone cord. The hook of PJ fandom and concert mania is set even further.

3. RKCNDY, Seattle, 1994. The secret show that never was. Again, I should be home studying. Instead, my friends and I go to see a side project of Mike McCready, certain that PJ will then play a secret show. After his set, McCready grabs an electric guitar and says “we’ll be right back”. This is it! The secret show is going to happen!! But then it doesn’t.

4. The Gorge, 1993. Pearl Jam opens for Neil Young. Blind Melon opens for Pearl Jam, and their lead singer cusses out the crowd, saying he knows we are only there to see PJ. Obviously he has issues, but my issue is that it’s a long-ass drive from the Gorge back home to Tacoma.

5. Seattle Center Arena, 1993. I finally notice that there are other band members besides Eddie Vedder. (Dang, Stone is fun to watch! And still is.)

6. Key Arena, November 2000. Shit, I have just turned 30 years old. The band plays “Elderly Woman” (?!?) Eddie, together with the crowd: “I just want to scream — Helloooooo….” PJ had been snatched from me a year earlier when a friendship ended (“Alive, Encore Break“), but in that instant, I reclaim the band as mine. Two people in front of us make out during the entire show. I understand the sentiment, but not enough to avoid labelling them as idiots. My sister and I throw things at them. So much for being more mature at 30.

7. Ben Harper show, Seattle, 2005. A rare night out with my sisters after having two babies in two years. An already amazing show from Ben, when Eddie shows up for the encore and joins him for a few songs. My sleep-deprived mind is blown.

8. The Gorge, September 2005. We have amazing dead-center seats. The debate over “fist to the JAW” vs. “fist to the DOOR” intensifies, this round going to my husband. Eddie tries to lure Tom Petty down from the hotel next door – “Hello Tom…….come down Tom….” (he doesn’t). A damn near perfect setlist start to finish, including one of my favorite versions (ever) of “Yellow Ledbetter”, which segues into a cover of “Baba O’Reilly”. I have a recording of this show, and I run to it all the time. You can’t help but pick up your pace when “Porch” comes on.

9. The Gorge, July 2006. It is, no lie, 109 degrees. Proving my theory that fans love it when musicians say the F word, the crowd goes wild when Eddie observes, “it’s fucking HOT!” Eddie sneaks out to the roof above the sound board to sing “Given to Fly”. Amazing. Perfect. And yes, fucking hot.

And, finally…….the most recent show, destined to be one of my favorites, for a million reasons:

10. Vancouver BC, September 2011. Long Canadian-cash-only beer lines, and even longer cab lines. We (kind of, almost) see our friend get in a fight over a cab, but he emerges victorious. I get my Concert Moment, and then some, when it seems that 95% of the setlist has been channeled directly from my brain to the band. (I got a spot at Lukin’s!) It’s my husband’s birthday, and PJ sings Happy Birthday to him (well, actually they are singing to one of their crew, but really, what are the odds?). I punch him — “sweetie, Eddie is singing to YOU!!!” He is appreciative, but not as excited about it as I am.

A pretty darn perfect weekend all around, topped with international intrigue as we see two people arrested at the border on the way home. Were they smuggling plans for a secret Seattle PJ show back into the U.S.? Because I am still waiting for one…

I recently saw The Black Keys in concert. They totally blew me away. When others have asked me how it was, I can only describe it by saying that it was the most life-altering show I’ve seen in a long time. This is not a designation that I award lightly. In fact, only two other times.

The first Life Altering Concert, and really the only one that matters in the grand scheme of things: the first time I saw Pearl Jam. Lollapalooza 1992, Kitsap County Fair Grounds. The lineup, even then, was phenomenal: Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Jesus and Mary Chain, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Ministry, Ice Cube (who dropped more F-bombs in a sentence than I had ever heard, then or since — he had been stopped at the U.S./Canadian border, and barely made it in time for his set. But that’s another story).

Come to think of it, these life-changing concerts have always occurred at the intersection of a major life change. The Pearl Jam show was a month before I started law school. DMB (Life Altering Concert #2) was around the time of my wedding. The Black Keys show came right before the Big Birthday. Skeptics would say that it’s not really the music that is life-changing, it’s just the timing of the concert. But of course I know differently.

On that July day so long ago, my main reason for coming to Lollapalooza was Pearl Jam. I was a huge fan, but hadn’t seen them live yet. My friend and I thought they were taking the stage later, but as we sat eating lunch, we heard the roar of the crowd and…..Eddie. We literally dropped everything (the gyro was terrible anyway), and sprinted over.

It’s funny that in a concert setting, your concept of personal space is miniscule. Standing shoulder to shoulder with sweaty strangers is not only acceptable, it’s preferred. We got pretty close to the stage, and while I couldn’t tell you the playlist, I do remember very clearly thinking: these are my people.

That is what concerts are all about. Live music is collective yet private, public but intimate, all at once. And aren’t we all, throughout life, just looking for our people? Our village? We are lucky to find it in different contexts along the way – in friendships, in our profession, in our kids’ schools – people who share a similar world view, and make our daily lives better.

But a love of live music bonds us in a way like no other. To the dude at the Gorge with the Pearl Jam tattoo, and the guy with the tattered “Drop in the Park” t-shirt (“Buttercup! Buttercup!”), I say: I get you. You are my people; you are my friend, even if I don’t know you.

And the friend who was at the Pearl Jam show with me that day — that life-changing show cemented our friendship, forever. He’s always been my friend, even when we didn’t see each other for nine years. That’s just the way it works.