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.
4 comments:
That was lovely.
I laughed, I cried, I think I even peed a little.
OK, so I didn't read it yet. Give me a break, I'm getting on a train and have stuff to do.
It's been a month since you posted this, slacker.
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