Released August 27th, 1991..

On the tenth of this month Pearl Jam announced the reissue of the band's debut album, Ten, with four new expanded editions. All four editions will be available for purchase in late March of 2009. The reissue serves as the launch of a planned two-year catalogue re-release campaign leading up to the band's 20th anniversary in 2011.

What does this have to do with me, you ask?

Released August 27th, 1991 was an album that I still play with as much anticipation to this day as I did back then. Dave Krusen, Jeff Ament, Eddie Vedder, Mike McCready, and Stone Gossard produced an incredible debut album. It was this first recording that I was first exposed to the group, and would set me off to be a long time fan.

It's late 1990, I was living in Mission Viejo at the time, not exactly the hot-bed of any music scene, but we did have The Coach House and 91X radio to keep us upper-middle class WASPY white kids informed. It was at some ungodly hour of the morning when I was trying to make ends meet as a bank courier, one of three jobs I had at the time, that I heard the song, Alive. From the opening guitar riff to the ending drum fade, I was hooked. Let me back up here, from the time I was brought home from the hospital music has always played an instrumental part of my life. Various songs, albums, and one-hit wonders have played a vital role to the soundtrack of my memories. Buffalo Springfield's, For What It's Worth, is as indelible on my psyche as is Nine Inch Nails', Head Down. Now, I am obviously a huge fan of music, all types, and I always thought if I could play an instrument, any instrument, and be in a band, I'd make and impact. I'd be famous. Not the hotel room trashing, I'm in it to get laid, or it's all about the single kind of famous. But the kind that moves people, stays with you longer than the Summer, or a relationship. Music that you'd play years later and give you a different perspective than when you first heard it. Music that transcends its intentions. But, I can't play, I can't read music, and a certain music teacher assured that I'd never sing in public again. Oh, I could hum, but not sing. So when I hear Alive for the first time I thought,"This is it." This is what I'd sound like if I could sing, if I could play, if I could write lyrics. Pearl Jam was my band, and I was Eddie Vedder.

My sister, eight years younger and a bit more progressive when it came to music, was playing Nirvana's, Nevermind album 24/7. I was sick of it, and I never gave the group much attention until their famous MTV Unplugged appearance, and at the time the term "grunge" never fit into my reality. Flannel, layed clothing, long unkept hair, and looking like an addict wasn't conducive to my personality, or to my remaining employed. Plus, I think it reminded me of too many family members on my bio-dad's side. But Pearl Jam rose above all this preconceived bullshit. Since hearing the song, Alive, I wanted to hear more of what the band had to offer. Every time I turned on the radio I searched the dial to catch the song, even for a snippet that could be played at an ear-bleeding volume. And if it wasn't playing I knew KROQ, or 91X would be soon enough before my withdrawals set in.

I figured if the radio stations had the song, the album wasn't too far behind, and my local Tower Records store would be my relief for my Jonesing. Have you ever walked into a store excited to the point of being  giddy looking, searching for something only to discover that it doesn't exist, and no one behind the counter has the foggiest idea to what your talking about, and they were down-right dismissive? Well, that was my reception at my local Tower Records store. May they rest in peace. So, when my utter bewilderment subsided it occurred to me that I just might have imagined the whole thing. It would explain why the song was played so infrequently. Was there dementia in my family tree? My grandmother was a bit kooky as she got older, but we just blamed it on the wine. Maybe this was my swan song before full insanity set it. Nah.

While Orange County was lost in the subtle musical stylings of Wilson Phillips, Roxette, and a Prince remake by Sinead O'Connor, my friends were trying to make sense why Jon Bon Jovi was singing a soundtrack for the brat-pack, what the hell happened to Billy Idol, and why on Earth was Skid Row singing ballads, but I, I just couldn't be bothered with all of that. I had other concerns, I had a need, and thanks to Cameron Crowe, the feature film, Singles, provided my next dose of Pearl Jam.

Over the next several months various singles were released that would later provide the tracks for Ten. Each release increased my interest in the band, and I was noticing I wasn't alone. Soon everyone I knew was talking about the band I discovered.

Now I have to admit, at this time I was just lost in the excitement and emotion of the band. The lyrics didn't hold much meaning for me. I understood what was being sung, but the words just didn't pull at me. At least not until later.

On April 3rd, 1992 my life changed forever. As I was about to walk out of my parents house that Friday I bumped into my dad at the doorway. 

"Where you off to so early?" He asked. I replied that my girlfriend and I were gonna head down to SeaWorld for the day then meet up with some friends in Newport for dinner. 

His response, "Have fun. I guess we'll see you when we see you. Drive safe."

Those were the last words my dad said to me. The days, weeks, and months leading up to this particular Friday were anything but civil between my dad and I. You see, we weren't getting along. My dad had been sick on and off over the past couple of years with bouts of cancer, and the occasional heart attack. Through it all he always gave the impression that everything was going to be alright, that everything was status quo. But we found the time to argue. We argued about me going off to school, staying around for school, me being employed, or unemployed to be more precise, or the up keep of my '67 Mustang that always seemed to require monthly maintenance, or my future as a Hollywood writer. But regardless of all of this, at the end of the day when you get a phone call from your mother in the middle of the night that your father has died, the only thing that snaps back into my mind was, "Have fun, I'll see you when I see you, and drive safe."

On the drive back down, after getting the call, I shoved Ten into my girlfriends car stereo. Oceans was the first song to come up.

Hold on to the thread

The currents will shift

Glide me towards you

Know something's left

And we're all allowed

To dream of the next

Oh the next...time we touch...

You don't have to stray

Two oceans away

Waves roll in my thoughts

Hold tight the ring

The sea will rise

Please stand by the shore

I will be...

I will be...

There once more...

We spread my dad's ashes miles off Dana Point Harbor. My father loved the ocean, loved sailing on it, and he often talked that he'd like nothing more than to be living on some island, Tonga perhaps, fishing, sailing, and drinking good Scotch.

The months that followed were a blur. The wake at my parent's house, a refrigerator overflowing with food, dinners at various friend's homes, phone calls from people I haven't spoken to in years, school, dinners with my girlfriend, finals, work...it was nothing but a foggy dream.

One of the other jobs I had at the time was working for a staffing company that provided security at entertainment venues. And the Summer of '92 proved to be quite memorable. I got the call to work three days backstage at Irvine Meadows as the second installment of Lollapalooza came through Southern California. Lush, Pearl Jam, The Jesus and the Mary Chain, Soundgarden, Ministry, and The Red Hot Chili Peppers filled the main stage line up. As stacked and talented as all the groups were, backstage everyone was talking about Pearl Jam, and not because Eddie was walking around in an Army helmet, but because they brought excitement and a sound that I think people were looking for. So, when the groups came out on stage, no one, not even The Red Hot Chili Peppers had the reception or response that Pearl Jam had. People who were backstage ventured over to the wings to take a look, to witness something incredible. And the crowd, the crowd wasn't electric, they were peaking. They were loud, and singing right along with Eddie. And I was singing right along with everyone else, feeling something that only we, thirty-five plus thousand like-minded fanatics, could share. I rode that high weeks after the event. It was something else to solidify my admiration for the band. My band. It was just what I needed. It brought me out of my funk, my fog, my personal haze. I still felt damaged, but my eyes were open. 

Shortly later, I grabbed my girlfriend and we headed up to Oregon for my bio-dad's wedding. I was the Best Man. I felt anything but. Then an opportunity presented itself. Months later I decided to pack up my girlfriend and get the hell out of Dodge, or in my case Mission Viejo. And if you squint while tilting your head just so, you'd see the similarities. I took my Southern California, desert living, sun worshiping girlfriend to an area that had four seasons, and the Summers only lasted two months.

As the months passed and my girlfriend and I settled into our place along the Willamette River, I continued to relay upon Pearl Jam as a source of comfort. One chilly late Spring evening I awoke in tears after having a very vivid dream about my dad. I was sleeping in my old room, in my old bed at my parents house when I was wakened by the smell of cigarette smoke. My dad, dressed from work was quietly walking in from the garage and stopped at my open doorway. Realizing I was awake, he came in and sat on the edge of my bed. He asked, "How was your day?"

"Fine, I guess." I replied.

And after a moment or two he said, "You know I love you, you know."

That's when I sat up and gave him a hug.

The following afternoon, I flipped my stereo tape deck on and it started in the middle of the song, Release.

Oh, dear dad

Can you see me now

I am myself

Like you somehow

I'll ride the wave

Where it takes me

I'll hold the pain

Release me

Oh, dear dad

Can you se me now

I am myself

Like you somehow

I'll wait up in the dark

For you to speak to me

I'll open up 

Release me...

Release me...

Release me...

Release me...

Years later, after moving back down to Southern California, another one of Pearl Jam's song echoed in my head. In late 2002 I attended a funeral service for a friend of mine's sister. I knew the sister well enough, but I always regretted that I didn't know her as well as I should have. She was a talent both in front and behind the camera, she was a force to be reckoned with, but most of all, the few times I was around her, talking with her, she gave off this vibe, this feeling, that anything was, and is, possible. These people who have this ability to give not only hope but inspiration should be cherished and held on high. And I'm very sorry that I didn't do any of those things, to let her know that she made an impact to this struggling writer, and new father. As my wife an I walked out of the theater where the service was held, the words from Black, another Pearl Jam song from Ten, rattled in my head.

I take a walk outside

I'm surrounded by some kids at play

I can feel their laughter, so why do I sear

Oh, and twisted thoughts that spin 'round my head

I'm spinning, oh, I'm spinning

How quick the Sun can drop away..

So, when asked what Pearl Jam, or the album Ten means to me...it means a lot. And with the reissue of the album I'm hoping to find new gems and create new memories, and perhaps it'll mean something to my seven year old son. If not now, maybe later. 

Where membership fails

We're all members of something. Costco, Vons, Ralphs, CVS, Blockbuster or Hollywood Video...the list goes on. I know, I have a wallet filled with various cards proving my point. But here is what I don't get, why don't these companies use the information to everyone's benefit?

Think about it. They, any one of the stores listed above, have all my personal information reagrding where I live and how to contact me, and in return they give me a membership number. Each and every time I purchase something, or rent, I hand them my membership card and I make my purchase. They should know exactly how much I spend in any particular month, and on what products I purchase. This information must be more useful than just for inventory control. Wouldn't this information be vital to other companies such as Johnson & Johnson, GE, Penguin Books, Warner Bros., 3M, Del Monte, Tyson Foods, Dow Chemical, Coke, McKesson...and many, many others. Wouldn't this be good information for these companies individual marketing and sales departments to know such information?

With today's technology, and the importance of customer retention, let alone loyalty, why don't those companies know about me? Why doesn't Johnson & Johnson know what kind of hand cram my wife uses? Why doesn't Del Monte know just how many cans of whole kernel corn my family consumes in any given month? Why deosn't GE know when the bulbs I bought two years ago need replacing? Why isn't Johnson & Johnson using my wife in any of their product testing, or marketing research? I'm tired of companies touting how smart they are, or how they've gone "green", or "organic", only to have them repackage the same old product in a smaller form while charging me almost double.

What I'm proposing is the allowance of information to be used for the benefit of everyone. Some might cry invasion of privacy, and I can see where they might feel some uneasiness regarding companies having that kind of information, but what if these companies offered discounts, coupons, or free offerings to the most common items you purchased. And what if, seeing that you're such a big user of Dove body soap that Dove asked for you opinion on product, price, or packaging, and in return you receive some kind of compensation, either by product or recognition. Wouldn't that be something?

Wouldn't it be great that the information that you provide to these convenience stores actually do more than offer seasonal discounts...to everyone.

Okay, here's the kicker...this exchange of information is valuable. The various manufacturers of said products pay big money for this information. Big money. These grocery stores now have a new revenue stream that's ever growing. Everyone wins. The consumers get to interact with manufacturers, manufacturers improve or create new products, and the grocery stores see renewed growth. But, alas no one is communicating as they should.

Detroit bailout par deux

Just so I have things correct here:

(1) GM, Chrysler, and Ford are on the verge of bankruptcy. On the verge, mind you.

(2) The Big Three employ about 250,000 people.

(3) All three have been struggling for years. Years in which the economy was up. But they were struggling.

(4) They lost market share to foreign competitors.

(5) Their cash reserves and credit have dried up.

(6) GM, the largest of the three, claims to be losing $1 billion a month. GM's Rick Wagoner went before Congress and said, "..without $25 billion loan, his company, and the others, would collapse."

(7) And $25 billion would be just the start. Even the government loan would not save these companies. An additional $55-$68 billion would be needed.

(8) For years GM has been building oversized and uninspired automobiles. Is it any wonder that no one was buying?

(9) Apparently lavish employee and retiree benefits along with strict work rules pretty much guaranteed inefficiency.

(10) GM compensates its workers an average rate of $73 an hour, as their competitors compensate their workers an average $48 an hour.

My suggestion has been, bankruptcy. Let them file. Granted, in these current economic climes they'd be hard pressed to survive a Chapter 11 reorganization. But maybe with a court-appointed trustee empowered to over-see a top-down restructure, we could possibly see these three car companies start over. Start over with new models, new management, and new labor contracts.

I don't see how a bailout could possibly result in a makeover of the auto industry. It won't save Detroit, regardless of the conditions applied.

Detroit bailout

Let me make this perfectly clear...I say let them file for bankruptcy and let them cure their own ailments, or close up shop. Actually there is a third, they could get bought-out or gobbled up by another company, which would only lead to more speculation as to how and who would do exactly that.

Frankly, I'm a bit bored with executives playing the pompous card and shoving their accountability onto the tax payers. To sit in front of a congressional committee and threaten, "..if you don't bail us out, then the mass unemployment will be on your hands." As if they had nothing whatsoever to do with their companies current condition. Rather, they should act like men, come to Washington and say, this is what we did wrong, this is the cause of our mismanagement and lack of foresight, this is what we're gonna do to rectify the situation, and here is where we need your help.

Funny. From a very early age I've tried to instill in my young son, accountability and responsibility. But with the news today, as well as various companies in recent years, who have been caught lying to their employees, lying to their stockholders, and practicing fraudulent activities, it makes it very hard to convey to my son that crime does not pay.

If Congress wants to bailout these companies, and continue to pay these multi-millionaire their salaries for lacking innovation and just plane being unoriginal, then my answer to them would be: (1) Does anyone know ExxonMobil's number? I'm sure they have some pocket change to spare; (2) I'll give you the money you require but the top ten executives from each company will be removed, without pay, without bonus, without anything. What you have today is all that you have. You drove your company into the ground therefore you leave with what you walked in with. Nothing.

This is a top-down problem, and it's obvious that it's systematic, those working the line, or filing Fulfillment documents DO NOT MAKE THE DECISIONS. Executives do, they get paid for just that, and because of that, they bare the responsibility. And blaming the unions will only go so far. Plus, it's a cop-out. These "men" need to act like men who were entrusted into their positions, and do the right thing.