Pearl Jam

Everything Has Chains…Absolutely Nothing’s Changed

/ Deb / 1 Comment

Years ago, I read online a Pearl Jam-related post where the writer theorized that the song “Corduroy” was about being a vampire.  I don’t remember how I came across the post, but it set out a line-by-line analysis of the lyrics, along with supporting evidence  of why they were vampire related. I didn’t necessarily agree, but I admired the effort.

I heard Corduroy on the way in to the office the other day.   It’s one of my favorite Pearl Jam songs. (Figured out the name of the blog yet?).   Maybe it’s because I watched a vampire mockumentary recently (“What We Do In the Shadows”….picked by my 13 year old), but I suddenly remembered the Corduroy vampire theory.   And strategies for 2016 clicked into place.

Before the chaos of the holidays hit, I thought I had it figured out.  2015 had brought a lot of changes, and it was busy and draining.  The holidays would be filled with what seemed to be the perfect combination of travel, family, and down time.  Things would be fixed.  I expected to return in January, refreshed and energized.  Instead, I was as grumpy and irritated as I had been before Christmas.

And then Corduroy came on, and I realized the problem.  2015 had been a vampire.

Things that I love and that fuel me were relegated to the background in 2015:  Running around Green Lake. The mountains.  Live music. (“Inside Wright Wrist (or Navel), Please”)   And, of course, sitting at a coffee shop, working on this blog.  They were replaced by new routines that are rewarding and exciting in their own way, but also draining. Like a vampire.

And so, sitting in my minivan on Highway 99, I decided that, instead of expecting the turn of the calendar to magically fix things, I’m putting new strategies in place. This year I will make sure to replenish with the things that fuel me. I started by getting together with a dear friend for a glass of wine, and by writing this blog post.

It’s been a good start.  So far, 2016 hasn’t “sucked” (get it?).

Even Sadder Than a Wedding Dress in a Thrift Store….

/ Deb / 1 Comment
Just a few of the many treasures awaiting you at the Ballard Goodwill

….it turns out, is a mix tape in a thrift store.  I never realized this until I found a stack of them at my local Goodwill.  I was intrigued by the one called “Wedding Music/Favorite Love Songs #1″, so I picked it up (What happened?! Was the wedding cancelled?).  I glanced at the list of songs only long enough to see Mariah Carey well-represented, but then I felt compelled to put it down.  It was too much like reading someone’s diary.  I couldn’t do it.

Ah, mix tapes.  Our kids will never know the magic of a mix tape.  They will craft digital playlists, I’m sure.  But nothing so time-stamped and permanent as a mix tape with their handwriting on it.

I freely admit that I am a sentimental hoarder.  I’ve got all of my old tapes, even my earliest mix tapes made with my sister and cousin (if you can really call them mix tapes… really it was just us talking into a Panasonic tape recorder, telling stupid stories and singing songs).

Another gem is the “Workout Mix” tape that I made in college, with appropriate-tempo songs for a routine of exercises.   Given that it was 1989, of course the lineup included INXS, Prince, and Neneh Cherry.  The last song, the “cool down”, was – what else – “Nite & Day” by Al B Sure.

Then there was the mix tape trilogy made for a post-college road trip (“Driving Tape #1, #2, and #3”, of course.)   Number 1 has got you covered with your basic R.E.M, Pearl Jam, and U2, with some Naughty by Nature thrown in for reasons I don’t recall.  Number 2 was the mellow tape, with Luther Vandross and Johnny Gill – you know, for when the road asked you, “come on, let’s bring it down now….”.   Number 3, sadly, is no longer with us.  But it’s quite possible that it contained country music.

My favorite mix tape, though, is one that my long-distance boyfriend sent me in college.  Oddly enough, I only remember one song on it – “Cars that Go Boom”, by  L’trimm (wasn’t he romantic?).   But what I love about that tape is that, inter-mixed with songs, my boyfriend talked about what was going on in his apartment, or what he was studying.  He introduced each song like a DJ. “Cars that Go Boom” reminded him, he said, of me and my best friend/roommate (were we like “Tigra & Bunny”?).   I haven’t listened to the tape since then, but I love the idea that his 1989 voice is preserved on it.  I can’t even remember what his voice sounded like then.  I’m saving the tape like a fine bottle of wine.   Someday the time will be right, and he and I will listen to it with all the reverence it deserves (through a series of twists and turns, we ended up getting married years later.)

I really hope that the mix tapes I made for others never made their way onto a thrift store shelf (in the garbage = fine!).  And now I’m feeling like I should have purchased those thrift store mix tapes and given them a proper burial.  I need to think more about that one.   As should you — what mix tapes do you treasure, and what mix creations of yours might still be floating around out there?

In the mean time, though, welcome to McMahon Hall, and enjoy the mellow grooves of Al B Sure (closing your eyes and pretending that it’s on a cassette tape, of course).

I’m Still Alive, Middle School version

/ Deb / Leave a comment

Have you ever looked at a picture that filled your heart with so much love that it made you catch your breath?  This is mine.  THIS is my boy.  THIS is his essence.  This is a moment that I want to hold forever in my memory.  My boy, at the last of our weekly coffee dates that we’ve held for four years.

The Spring has flown by, and my thoughts have been so disorganized that there has been no moment to write about everything going on.  I’m so caught up in my head that I’ve even found it hard to lose myself on a run.  I’m not enjoying myself, I’m just compiling another To Do List in my head.

It’s like this every year for the last few weeks of school, but it still catches me flat-footed.  I’ve told my son to just take it all in, and enjoy the last few weeks at our beloved elementary school.  But I haven’t taken my own advice.  We’re in triage mode, in “drink from the firehose” mode (my favorite saying from my friend Morgan).  We are in “check another event/meeting/party off the list” mode.

And today was possibly the one item on the list I’ve been dreading the most – the last time my soon-to-be middle schooler and I would go on our weekly coffee date, our standing one-on-one time that we’ve enjoyed for four years.  (“Oh, There is My Mind”).

It’s not a sad event.  But it’s a melancholy one.  Things are changing, and I believe you should acknowledge and appreciate the change as it happens.   So I knew it was on the calendar, and I ticked off a mental countdown of our remaining coffee dates as they winded down.

And then suddenly, today was here.  He bought his usual donut, and I had my usual latte.  We kept it light hearted.  We chatted about small stuff.  We wrote in the journal that we’ve kept this year.   All in all, I held it together pretty well.  I thought I would choke up with tears, but I didn’t.  That is, not until I dropped him off, watched him walk into school, and I turned on the car radio.  And there it was – “Alive”, by my band.  There is really no other song that could come on at that moment.  And as much as I’ve come to expect it at moments when I’m lost in my head….as much as I rely on the shuffle gods to bring music to me when I need it, I was still surprised.  I actually said so out loud – “REALLY?“

My song. Pearl Jam’s breakthrough single, “Alive”.  It’s spanned the last 20+ years of my life, as I’ve gone from college student to law student, to lawyer, to wife and mother.  (“Alive, Encore Break”). If I was younger and hipper, I might describe it my ‘jam’.  But I’m old and the song is too, so I’ve just grown to think of it as my theme song.  My anthem.  It shows up when I need it.

Of COURSE this is the song that comes on.  When I think now about the poignant times it has shown up in the past, the crises of those times seem very far away.  Just like this one will someday.  Then, as now, I embraced the changes and made it through.

So I suppose that if the (Pearl Jam) universe could answer my question in the car, that answer would be – “Yes, REALLY“.  It knew that I needed a little nudge to remind me that everything works out, and that as things change and life keeps moving forward, I’ll always have music to help me through.

The Morning Shift

/ Deb / Leave a comment

Sometimes things change so gradually that you almost don’t notice the imperceptible shift as it happens.  Nowhere is this more true than with kids (“days are long, but the years are short”).  Lately, though, I’ve been paying attention with my soon-to-be middle schooler.  Things are moving too fast. 

The chubby baby face is gone, but he still crawls up in my lap, all arms-and-legs-and-bony-butt.  He bowls me over with big hugs and kisses, and his height is so perfect that I can stand behind him and rest my chin on top of his head without having to bend over at all.

But there are little things that tell me that a shift is happening…..his hair is long and messy, and I can’t get him to change his stinky hoodie, nor can I convince him that socks are only meant to be worn once before they are washed.  His sneakers are so big that I recently mistook one of them for my own, and brought it to the gym. It fit me.

We sat today at our morning coffee date.  Today’s location (always his choice) was a donut shop.

Putting his retainer case on the table, he started the conversation:  How many days until Christmas?  How many school days left until Christmas break?  How many days left until the end of the school year?  I realized we are almost at the halfway point.  I told him to enjoy the rest of the school year, and his final days at our much-beloved elementary school.  Middle school will be different and fun, I said, but it will never be the same as these days.

Then for the first time – I noticed – he is holding his hot cocoa mug differently…..not in the double-handed style of a child, but in a quiet, confident way, sitting back, legs crossed like an adult man, chatting with his mom.  I had an instant flash-forward to meeting my future college kid for coffee, in between his classes.

The shift is happening. 

If only this epiphany had not been punctuated by a Coldplay song playing in the background.  Anyone but Coldplay.  I never enjoyed them but used to tolerate them for my husband’s sake, and then their fate was sealed.  A Coldplay CD was in our car the weekend that my uncle died unexpectedly.  I can’t listen to Coldplay.

Why couldn’t the background music to this parenting moment be something melancholy? (Bob Dylan?). Triumphant? (Pearl Jam’s “Given to Fly”?)  Even The Wiggles……just not Coldplay.

But of course, that’s the thing – we can’t choose.  We can’t choose the moments, or when we will notice things, or what the soundtrack will be.  All we can do is pay attention.

And of course, we can be relieved when our nearly-college-age kid reverts back to 10 year old obnoxious older brother, asking, “Hey Mom, do you think my sister is color blind?” (“No, why?”).  “Well, have you seen some of her outfits?”

Territorial Pissings (yes, that’s a Nirvana reference)

/ Deb / 1 Comment

You know what’s cool?  Offering a free download of your concert for those who went to the show.  I saw Dispatch for the second time last weekend, and I loved being able to download a copy of the show on Monday morning, for free, with the barcode from my ticket.

I was excited that they decided to play Seattle on this tour. Last time, (which we thought was a one-time reunion tour), we had to fly to Berkeley to see them. (“A Badger and a One-Eyed Toad”).   But a show at the Moore Theatre meant an easy, well-deserved night out with my sister, and their sing-along vibe is just plain fun – which is, after all, the entire point of live music.

Dispatch enjoys the ubiquitous status of being the “biggest band no one has ever heard of”, and maybe they are.  They’ve achieved a loyal fan base without any major record deal, and, despite taking a break and various side projects, they’ve stayed true to their roots as an independent band.

Offering a free download of a live show is a great throwback to the days of tape trading and authorized bootlegs.  And, while it might just be a publicity stunt, it makes you feel like like they appreciate the fact that you buy their music and tickets to their concerts.

I give these kudos to Dispatch – freely – but as preface to what I am about to say.  I’ll keep listening, and I’ll always buy a ticket when they come to town, but I might need to have a talk with my imaginary friend, lead singer Chad Stokes.  (“On Sisters and Pineapple”, “The Pixies, Chad Stokes, and Pineapple”).  It seems we might differ on one important Seattle music issue.

It was really a great show….good energy, lots of old favorites.  And then, it happened.  In between songs, Chad made reference to playing at the Moore Theatre. I can’t remember the exact words, but it went like this: “We’ve gotta pay our respects to Seattle……the Moore Theatre…..hallowed ground for those who have played here before us…..bands like Alice in Chains, Nirvana, Pearl Jam…..”

I suddenly got all territorial and defensive.  Really?  You are leading with Alice in Chains?  I liked them just fine, but….really?  You are putting them at the front of a Seattle list that includes Nirvana and Pearl Jam?

You can argue all day about who should be #1 or #2 on the list.  And even I will admit that’s is probably Nirvana at the top, if for no other reason than, let’s face it – dying young and tragically elevates you to cult status. (And for the record, do I love Nirvana).

But in no universe would anyone ever put Alice in Chains as #1 on that list.  Was he trying to be ironic?  Make the non-obvious choice?  Or maybe he was just naming them alphabetically.  Either way, I was now officially on a rant.

To my sister beside me:  “Dude, if you are paying your respects, then pay them properly.  It’s Eddie Vedder who scaled the damn walls of the Moore Theatre, thank you very much.” (maybe Kurt and Layne did too, I really have no idea.  But I was on a roll.)

I couldn’t stop bitching about it, leaning over, again:  “AND!  CHAD!  In case you haven’t noticed, Layne Staley overdosed, and Kurt blew his brains out.  Eddie Vedder’s the only one who’s still around”.

My sister considered this, briefly, but then hit the bullseye:  “Yeah, but dude….when’s the last time Pearl Jam even played a show here?”   Ouch. I hate it when she’s right.

(P.S.  It was September 2009 and, since then, they chose to have their 20th Anniversary Celebration Concert in….Wisconsin, and their most recent gigs have included a festival with Jay-Z (?!), and an Oracle corporate event.  Not that I am keeping track.)

(P.P.S.  You know you have to go and watch the Moore Theatre-filmed video for “Evenflow” now, right?  Best line, at the beginning:  “This is not a TV studio….Josh!  Turn these lights out.  It’s a f*cking rock concert!”)

Oh, There is My Mind

/ Deb / 4 Comments

It always amuses me when my kids voice an opinion on a song from the back of the minivan, or the other side of the kitchen island.  Sometimes I’m surprised at what they like, and sometimes I’m disappointed that my favorites aren’t theirs too.  Either way, I’m glad they are listening, and 20 years from now, hopefully they will have songs that will bring back vivid memories for them, the way music does for me.

My son is quite possibly the funniest kid I know, which is not surprising, considering that his dad is the funniest grown-up I know.   He comes out with zingers that make me laugh, scratch my head, and wonder how he comes up with this stuff.  And then I forget to write it all down.

This morning.  Breakfast table in an otherwise not-empty room (yes, PJ reference)…….As his sister thumbed through a catalog, he queried, deadpan-serious:  “Do they make American Girl Doll weaponry?”

His sister and I laughed, but — is this the untapped marketing angle that would make American Girl Dolls appeal to boys?  Before we had much time to discuss the details of combat gear for Kit, however, we were heading out the door.  My daughter, not to be outdone in the clever comment category:  “I’m wearing this hoodie today, it makes me feel like I live in Hollywood”.  Apparently that makes for a good day when one is in second grade.

Yesterday in the van, my son had taken aim at the Pixies, declaring, “this song is creepy” when “Where Is My Mind?” happened to come on.  (He attributed it to the “woo hoo’s” at the beginning.  Fair enough.)  He and I go out for coffee together twice a week, just the two of us.  It’s a tradition that started two years ago, when we were trying to figure out what to do with the extra half hour in the morning while his sister is at choir.  We drop her off at school, then hit a coffee house — latte for me, hot cocoa and a baked good for him.  Topics of conversation include baseball, dogs, vacations, and, most recently, lessons (for me) in the game of Magic: The Gathering.  We once sat and played a game, which earned me a ‘Way to Go, Mom’ thumbs-up from the bearded 20-something barista.

This morning we walked in to the coffee house – a different one than usual – and you can guess what song was playing…..  “Where Is My Mind?”.  Now that is creepy.  “Hey, Sweetie — it’s your song!”  I said, and he pretended to grimace.

You know how, as a parent, you experience fleeting moments that make you feel like you are doing something right?  (The ones that balance out all of the times when you are sure you are screwing your kids up for life?)  This morning was one of those moments.   My sweet fourth grade boy was stressing out over a school project.  We talked through it and came up with a plan.  Then he took a sip of cocoa, cocked his head to one side, looked at me and said, “Mom, I always feel better when I talk to you about stuff.”   True to form, I welled up with tears, but managed to tell him – hey, that’s what Moms are for.   I’ve often joked with him that he and I share the same brain, and it’s true.  We are wired the same.  I like to think that this will give me an edge in helping him navigate the teenage years…..we’ve agreed to keep our morning coffee dates going, and I really hope we do.

He wanted to stay home with me today.  The real reason is that he is in the middle of a big baseball card sorting project, and he is, in his words — “making great progress”.  He wanted to hunker down in his room and keep going, with a Harry Potter book on tape in the background.  I know this because we share the same brain, and days like that appeal to me too.   He tried to tell me, however, that if I let him stay home, he would  help me with stuff around the house:

“Mom!  If you let me stay home today, I’ll be your house elf”.

I kissed him and ushered him out of the van.  But if I really thought that he would do chores for me all day, I’d probably let him stay home.

Express Yourself, 2012 Style

/ Deb / 1 Comment

One thing irritates me like no other:  the Music Snob.  You know the type – they only like the coolest bands that no one else has heard of, or claim to only like music done by “true artists” or “good musicians” (read:  no pop, no Top 40).  I am not a Music Snob.  I like a lot of different music, and I won’t disparage you for what you like. 

Behold:  today’s post is about Salt ‘n Pepa.  You Music Snobs know who they are, so don’t pretend otherwise.

In 1990, Salt ‘n Pepa’s “Expression” was a mainstay on my Walkman.  I was in college and worked part-time at the prosecutor’s office, and rode the Metro bus to and from campus and work, every day.  A Walkman was essential in order to avoid having to talk to any weird older men who might sit next to you on the bus.  I really loved that song; I must have listened to it a million times.  (Favorite line?  “Yes I’m blessed and I know/who I am/I express myself on every jam/I’m not a man but I’m in command/hot damn, I got an all-girl band”).                                 

Soon thereafter, with the onslaught of Nirvana, Pearl Jam, et. al., my flirtation with rap and hip-hop ended.  My DJ/rapper nickname was cast aside (email me and I’ll tell you what it was), and my Salt n’ Pepa cassette was relegated to a box.  I decided I wanted to become a lawyer….went to law school,  got married, had kids, blah blah blah……20 years passed.  Cut to present day Seattle, on a path around Greenlake:

I honestly forgot that I ever loaded the song onto iTunes or put it on my workout mix.  I don’t think I’ve heard it in years.  But today, on my run, for the first time ever – the Shuffle Gods went to work, and there it was – Salt ‘n Pepa, speaking to me in scratches and beats:

“Hey, you used to be that girl on the bus…..you carried a leather bookbag and had big dreams and a five year plan.  How’d that all work out for you?  Are you where you want to be?  Have you done what you set out to do?  How realistic were the plans of a 20 year-old anyway?   You can laugh at the 20 year-old You and how she didn’t know anything, but she’s still out there on a bus somewhere, and you need to settle up with her”.

Enough already, Salt! (and Pepa.  And Spinderella)  As if I wasn’t already introspective enough, as a result of the new year and an unexpected event in my family, now here you go, poking me with your catchy grooves.  OK, I will play along.  January is always a time for cleaning out and purging.  Why else would all the stores have organizational items on sale, and all the diet centers run specials?   More importantly, though, it’s also a time for mental housecleaning – to satisfy that list-maker in all of us.  

Much like a Metro bus route, our lives will always be filled with delays, detours, and some dead ends.  But the end result is that I don’t need any do-overs.  I’m ecstatically happy with the past 20 years, potholes and all.  I am looking forward to 2012 in a way that I haven’t done in a long time.  It is full of promise, full of new beginnings, and chock-full of big plans, both personally and professionally.

It might have taken me 20 years to realize that, in the end, you really are only accountable to yourself.  Or, as it were, to your 20-year old self on a bus.  I’d still like to buy that girl a cup of coffee and talk to her, but otherwise, I think we’ve settled up.

Ten

/ Deb / 3 Comments

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…

Twenty

/ Deb / Leave a comment

My head is still spinning from last night’s “Pearl Jam 20”, the new Cameron Crowe-directed documentary.  All day yesterday I was antsy, mostly because I realized that it was the 19 year anniversary of the Drop in the Park show at Magnuson Park.  In my head all day, and later to my friends:  “Nineteen?  Really?  NINEteen?  NineTEEN!”

I am overly-nostalgic and live in my head a lot anyway, so the intersection of this anniversary with the release of the movie was almost too much.  I loved every minute of the movie, and I’ve got to get these thoughts down, brain-drain style:

  • It is hilarious, yet somehow fitting, that I could smell weed while in line for the movie.  Obviously to some, the event wasn’t too different from a concert.
  • I love that I went to the movie with five people who I have known for the entire 20-year run of Pearl Jam and have gone to shows with [including Life Altering Concert #1 (“Drop the Gyro and Run”), and, of course, the Magnuson Park show].
  • All of the old footage was priceless.  Long hair!  Headbanging! Stage Diving!  Eddie climbing everything like a damn monkey.
  • Best nugget from the movie:  Jeff Ament describing how he’s always been stoked to play every show; that they’ve never phoned it in.  This was my “hell yes” moment – it is EXACTLY what I’ve always said to people when defending my concert habit — I’ve never seen a bad show from Pearl Jam – always new/different, and they always look like they are having fun. That’s what keeps me coming back.
  • Eddie described how, on stage, there’s not much difference between the band and the fans.  I can’t remember the words he used, but the idea was that it’s a give and take, drawing off the energy of each other.  I’ve always felt that way about concerts, and wondered if the band can feel the energy change on different songs.  I love that they understand what the fans’ experience is like, and that they would be out in the pit, too, if they weren’t on stage.

My main take-away:  go ahead and mock me for my PJ fandom (and I know you do).  I’m not ashamed of it.  But it’s not, and never has been, an “ooh, Eddie’s so dreamy” kind of thing.  As much as I may worship at the Altar of Vedder, I’ve always said that I would love to just hang out with the band and have a beer.  The movie just confirmed what we, as fans, already knew.  A bunch of great guys, now 20 years older just like the rest of us, who happen to play in an epic band.

And go ahead and mock me for my concert habit, and the fact that I’m traveling to Vancouver BC this weekend to see, who else…Pearl Jam.  If you don’t love live music – have never lost yourself in a show – you will never get it.  And that’s OK.  But for me, and thousands of fans like me, live music is money well spent.  It is timeless, and you are never too old (or too young) for it.  How lucky are we, that there are bands who love it as much as we do, and are happy to oblige.

Finally last night, nostalgia gave way to thankfulness, and I left feeling lucky to have grown up with this band for the past twenty years.  I happily hopped in the booster seat-filled minivan that the 21-year-old me swore she would never drive, blared “Evenflow”, and rocked home to relieve the babysitter.    Bring on PJ30 and PJ40….and count me in.