Every Pearl Jam Album Ranked From Worst to Best

A romp through a catalog that has made hundreds of unforgettable nights possible

pearl jam albums
Pearl Jam, photo by Danny Clinch

    This article originally ran in 2016 and has since been updated; we’re dusting it off for Eddie Vedder’s birthday on December 23rd.

    “Fuck.” That was the only word Michael Roffman texted me late Monday night. As I shrugged off sleep to try and figure out what exactly that meant, the rest of his message came through: “Tonight’s set was so much better.” I stopped getting dressed and sank back into bed. I knew what he was upset about. No apocalypse, no emergency, just a Pearl Jam setlist that he liked better than the one we got two nights earlier at Wrigley Field.

    I clicked on the setlist link, scanned down, and texted back: “Oh fuck…”


    In words barely more eloquent than those, we spent the next hour, on and off, bemoaning that we had covered the wrong show — like two spoiled brats who had each found a shiny dime at his feet but grumbled that it wasn’t a quarter. He regretted missing his favorite, “State of Love and Trust,” and some deeper Ten cuts. I became nearly inconsolable after processing the trio of “Off He Goes,” “Immortality,” and “Rearviewmirror.” No doubt he, like myself, went to bed thinking about our show that should’ve been. By the morning, though, any disappointment or jealousy had subsided. We were content again. Grateful for our experience and happy for the experience of 40,000-plus fellow fans.

    I only bring up this anecdote because I think it hints at precisely what makes being a die-hard Pearl Jam fan unique. At the risk of sounding creepy, I might draw the distinction that I don’t love this band — I’m in love with this band. Following them feels more like being in a relationship than merely being a fan of a rock band. A relationship where a couple setlist omissions can feel like a personal slight, but a good night’s sleep restores reason and makes you realize just how lucky you are. One where a dud of an album (looking at you, Lightning Bolt) after a long wait can never be a deal breaker because you have too much history and far too many wonderful memories.

    I don’t think I’m alone in feeling that way. I’ve never run across a tighter, more friendly community than the Pearl Jam fan base, several of whom I shared a plane ride with the morning of last Saturday’s (August 20th, 2016) Wrigley Field show. I knew them by their tour shirts, empty poster tubes tucked into their backpacks, and willingness to swap stories. I feel that same sense of family among the congregations at shows, and it’s an energy no doubt felt and reciprocated by the band, whether it be Eddie Vedder conducting a crowd-wide sing-along, taking a moment to offer words of encouragement to someone he knows is in attendance and struggling through hard times, or halting a show mid-song to make sure a female fan is alright, as he did at Monday night’s concert.


    That’s the aura that wafts through a Pearl Jam show. Fans feel like they matter as much as the band, and there’s an unspoken pact of sorts that oversees the proceedings and adheres to the idea that either everyone will have a safe, fun celebration or we’ve defeated the entire purpose of coming together in the first place.

    There are a lot of bands like Pearl Jam that have been with me since the early ’90s when I first started seeking out music on my own, but none that I feel this same type of connection to. Maybe it’s because Pearl Jam isn’t just a band that I grew up with; they’re a band I grew alongside and evolved with throughout the years. That separates them from so many of the other bands that might get dubbed legacy acts, if they’re even still around. Nobody goes to a Pearl Jam show looking to recapture their youth or bask in the fleeting warmth of nostalgia. We see a middle-aged Vedder still bounding around stage and summoning an inner fire or Mike McCready still every bit the guitar hero, and we realize that the here and now, at least for our three hours together, is enough. That it really does make much more sense to live in the present tense.

    It’s in this spirit of love and family that we humbly pieced together this project, a romp through a catalog that has made hundreds of unforgettable nights possible. If you’re reading this, you’re probably part of the Pearl Jam family. That being the case, feel free to comment or disagree on social media, and we’ll look forward to seeing you the next time Pearl Jam rolls through town. Posters up!

    Matt Melis


    11. Lightning Bolt (2013)


    Runtime: 47:14

    The Fixer (Producer): After a positive experience recording Backspacer, longtime Pearl Jam producer Brendan O’Brien returned to the helm for Lightning Bolt. Sessions began at LA’s Henson Recording Studios in 2011 while the band simultaneously prepped for their Pearl Jam Twenty documentary and tour. In March 2012, the band reconvened at Henson and left with seven songs but later felt their output wasn’t up to snuff. It wouldn’t be until March 2013 that the band would return from other commitments to finally finish Lightning Bolt together. According to the band, the final result was an album that both simplified and expanded upon the types of compositions found on Backspacer, with Vedder consciously trying to make his writing more accessible.

    Sheets of Empty Canvas (Album Art): Skateboard graphic artist Don Pendleton produced the artwork for Lightning Bolt upon the request of Jeff Ament. Pendleton’s idea was to create a cohesive package, with logos and icons that could be reproduced throughout the artwork and other mediums. To that end, Pendleton ended up painting Ament’s bass, Pearl Jam-themed t-shirts, and even posters for a series of the band’s Barclays Center performances. Mission accomplished, I guess, because the album won Best Recording Package at the 2015 Grammy Awards. Um, word of advice, Don. Don’t let Eddie make that acceptance speech for you. Trust us.


    Making Waves (Controversies): At this point, Pearl Jam are sailing peaceful waters. Lightning Bolt topped the charts, they play to sold-out crowds worldwide, and they have an unbreakable bond with their fans. But that doesn’t change the fact that their last two albums have also arguably been the weakest of their career. They’re in the unique position of not needing a game-changing record to keep on being kings of the road, but wouldn’t it be nice?


    Perhaps one thing worth noting is that delays to Lightning Bolt were caused by the band’s other musical commitments: a solo tour for Eddie Vedder, Matt Cameron rejoining Soundgarden, Stone Gossard dusting off Brad, Jeff Ament recording a solo album and starting RNDM, and McCready forming Walking Papers and returning to a brief Mad Season reunion. It’s inspiring to see forty/fiftysomethings seeking out other creative outlets, but one wonders if those types of outside projects actually recharge Pearl Jam or drain its battery, especially during the middle of recording sessions. Just a thought.

    10 Club (Best Live Cut): It’s telling that the band is still technically touring in support of Lightning Bolt but have already abandoned playing most of the record on a regular basis. That being said, the title track still carries a bit of current, “Mind Your Manners” can incite some minor chaos, and “Sirens” can get there when Eddie Vedder does. However, give me the more brooding and understated “Pendulum” for a cooldown that doesn’t feel like a letdown. Besides, how often do you get to see Mike McCready play guitar using a bow? At least this once.

    Lost Dog (Best B-Side, Outtake): Not much to report here, though the early Lightning Bolt sessions yielded “Olé,” which the band made available as a free download. As always, here’s hoping some more stray dogs eventually scratch at our backdoor.


    WWWdotED: Pearl Jam took to their website and social networks to give the rollout of Lightning Bolt an online jolt. The band posted not one, but two different countdown clocks. The first announced a 24-date North American tour, and the second, which reached zero 10 days later, dropped the news about Lightning Bolt and unveiled lead single “Mind Your Manners.” While the surprises (a tour and an album) were predictable, I still remember spending an inordinate amount of time staring at that clock and wondering. Good campaign, boys.

    It’s Time To Play the Music: As mentioned earlier, Pearl Jam recorded at Henson Recording Studios in Los Angeles. Yes, that Henson. Once A&M studios and the site of legendary recordings like the “We Are the World” sessions, The Jim Henson Company purchased the studio in 2000. Sadly, since Disney now owns the Muppets, there’s virtually no chance Eddie and company bumped into the frog, the pig, the bear, or the whatever and collaborated a la Weezer or OK Go. Would have been cool to at least let Animal sit in on “Animal.” Oh well, maybe they hung with the Fraggles.

    Rearviewmirror (Analysis): Lightning Bolt, in many ways, finds Pearl Jam coming to grips with their own mortality (“Sirens”) and looking ahead to what the future might hold (“Future Days,” “Pendulum”) in very straightforward, relatable terms. As Vedder asked near the album’s release, “It’s going to be their [his children’s] world, and what is their future?” It’s the type of question we only face once we’ve reached a certain point in life and accept that our roads are finite and that the next stretch belongs to someone else.


    It’s an idea historically at odds with rock and roll, which traditionally gives no care for tomorrow and offers no blueprint for how to grow old in a rock band. Vedder and company seem to be entering that next phase in their lives and are one of the first bands ever to remain relevant and sharp enough at that age to help create that blueprint. But, as always, it comes down to great songs, and there’s just really nothing on Lightning Bolt that the listener wishes would strike twice let alone many more times.

    — M.M.

    10. Backspacer (2009)


    Runtime: 36:38

    The Fixer: Although he mixed both 2000’s Binaural and 2002’s Riot Act, Brendan O’Brien hadn’t actually produced an album for Pearl Jam since 1998’s Yield. So, it was something of a moment when he returned for Backspacer, bringing his trademark brand of no-nonsense recording to the band’s punchy, touch-and-go ninth studio album. In another nostalgic twist, the band actually came into the sessions with some rehearsed, articulated material, something they hadn’t done since their debut.

    As such, the entire experience was relatively swift, spread out over a couple two-week blocks at both LA’s Henson Recording Studios and O’Brien’s own Southern Tracks in Atlanta — all with great vibes. McCready credits the traveling for that: “It was a great idea to get us out of Seattle. You’ve gotta get out [of] your comfort zone, and we’ve talked about doing that for the past 10 years and kind of haven’t, so we trusted Brendan’s judgment.” Of course they did; he’s the fixer.

    Sheets of Empty Canvas: If we’re being totally honest, the cover art is probably the best part about Backspacer. That’s not to say the album is awful, bad, or even mediocre; it only speaks to the power of cartoonist Dan Perkins, aka Tom Tomorrow. His work here is vivid, colorful, and downright gorgeous, a blistering assortment of creativity that catches the eye nine different times. Sadly, it came to fruition after the veteran artist lost dozens of contracts in 2009 once Village Voice Media suspended any syndicated cartoons across their network. Vedder, ever the bearded god, brought him on board and even penned an open letter on the Pearl Jam website. Shortly before the album’s release, the band teased the swanky album cover with an online scavenger hunt that ultimately led to a rough demo of “Speed of Sound.” This writer recalls it was quite fun.


    Making Waves: So, about that Target commercial… When Pearl Jam decided to partner up with the company to exclusively distribute the physical album, fans were a little split, and for the right reasons. After all, this is the same band that has forever lobbied against any big corporations, and it was a little weird to see portions of their music video for “The Fixer” rolled over into a commercial. But things have changed drastically over the years for musicians, especially those trying to make rock ‘n’ roll a thing in this day and age, and Pearl Jam had their own justified reasons for taking the deal — oh, and the one with Verizon. Okay, it was all a little weird and tacky and unbecoming of the Seattle outfit, but again, it was a sexy financial decision considering how dismal the market was for any physical releases, even as far back as 2009.

    10 Club: There isn’t a song on Backspacer that comes even remotely close to “The Fixer.” The poppy track is arguably the band’s greatest single since “Do the Evolution,” a blissful three minutes that sounds fresh no matter how many times you’ve spun the black circle. Onstage, sadly, it lacks a certain punch that the studio recording offers, but it’s still a mandatory addition to any setlist, if only for Vedder’s vocal performance — see: “Fight to get it back again,” “Yeah, yeah, yeah” — and organist Boom Gaspar’s heavenly piano work. It’s a shame they’ve yet to find a way to stretch the song out to six minutes live, but maybe that’s why all good things end so fast in life. Though, if we were pressed to name a second pick, we’d likely jot down “Unthought Known,” even if it sounds a little like “Love Boat Captain.”

    Lost Dog: Move along, nothing to see here. Okay, not technically, but there really aren’t any B-sides from this album in the conventional sense. While the band hit the studio with “17 to 20 ideas,” according to McCready, those that didn’t make the 11-track album have yet to see the light of day. Again, that’s not true, either. “Pendulum” off Lightning Bolt was originally from these sessions, but outside of that … nada. We know they exist, too, because McCready told MTV back in 2009, “We still have other songs that are out there that are from this session that we may do something with in about six months.” Well, dude, it’s been years and years and years and we’re still without any B-sides. What’s funny about all this is that Backspacer is their shortest album in their catalog, so you’d think there would have been something tacked on as an exclusive. Nope; total mind-blower.


    As the Crowe Flies: Nearly two decades later, Pearl Jam reunited with their longtime friend and feel-good filmmaker Cameron Crowe. The two previously worked together on 1992’s Singles — ahem, more on that film down the road — and they tagged the Almost Famous director to film the aforementioned music video for “The Fixer.” Unfortunately, the final result wasn’t very good and a little messy, what with all the disorienting (and flat-out unnecessary) green screen work, but it did lead to something much, much better: 2011’s Pearl Jam Twenty. In celebration of the band’s 20th anniversary, Crowe followed the band throughout 2010 and 2011, while also digging deep into their video repertoire, to deliver one hell of a rock doc. It’s a must-see for diehards yet also an enjoyable watch for casual listeners, especially how he ably brings you back to their ’90s heyday.

    Into the Wild: Crowe wasn’t the only filmmaker the band linked up with during this time. Two years before Backspacer, Vedder collaborated with his Dead Man Walking and I Am Sam pal Sean Penn for his cruelly underrated adaptation of Jon Krakauer’s 1996 non-fiction novel, Into the Wild. The biographical survival film followed the at-times peaceful, at-times harrowing travels of the late Christopher McCandless, portrayed by a very gaunt and very bearded Emile Hirsch. Vedder was tasked to score the entire film, which wound up serving as his first solo album, and what came to be is some of the most beautiful music the singer-songwriter has ever stamped his name on. He dutifully captured feelings of adventure, loneliness, and transcendentalism through a number of stirring compositions, from “No Ceiling” to “Society” to “The Wolf.”

    What’s this got to do with Backspacer? As Ament said, while previewing the album, “There’s a couple of great things that Ed brought in that could be real departures for us. Whatever wave Ed caught with [his soundtrack for] Into the Wild has taken him to different places.” This might explain why the album’s so achingly optimistic, a total role reversal for the band, whose previous effort (2006’s Pearl Jam, coming soon) was awash in anger, frustration, and pain. What we do know for sure is that his work on the film led to the soft-spoken ballad “Just Breathe,” which is more or less a re-purposed version of “Tuoloumne.” Those who worshiped the soundtrack like a bag of trail mix — this writer included — were likely surprised to hear the gentle instrumental bubble to the top again, and this time with vocals. It’s proof Penn can do some good.


    Rearviewmirror: Backspacer arrived at a time when Pearl Jam was just starting to be canonized. By the early 2010s, music writers everywhere were already revisiting the ’90s and setting certain acts in stone. The band would proudly hop on that bandwagon, too, by releasing a documentary and throwing a two-day festival in Wisconsin to celebrate their triumphant two decades together. But this album was the start of all that, and Vedder was clearly in the right mindset to pop the champagne, which is why this is such a breezy, casual affair. Even more to the point, the country was enjoying its first year with President Barack Obama, following a disastrous eight years with the president who shall not be named. So, the band was smart to give their fans a 12-pack rather than a protest sign; it’s just that after you kick back a few, they all go down the same.

    — Michael Roffman

    09. Binaural (2000)


    Runtime: 52:05

    The Fixer: Surprise, surprise. Brendan O’Brien returns for his nth album as producer… Wait, oh, really. Um, ladies and gentleman, Tchad Blake (no idea if the ‘T’ is silent). Seriously, though, Blake is a veteran producer, engineer, and mixer who has worked with the likes of U2, Tom Waits, and Elvis Costello among others, so the band was in more than capable hands. In fact, they opted for Blake because he specialized in capturing more atmospheric sounds using binaural recording techniques (more on that soon). The sessions took place in late 1999/early 2000 in Gossard’s Studio Litho, and while Blake’s mixes seemed to work on slower tracks, the band asked, surprise, surprise, O’Brien to beef up the album’s heavier fare. A reminder of why you should never remove your go-to producer from your speed dial.

    Sheets of Empty Canvas: NASA granted the band permission to use the album’s cover photo of the Hourglass Nebula, an “expanding, glowing shell of ejected ionized gas” some 8,000 light-years from Earth. Now, hold up a sec before you dub this the forebearer of the Avocado (more on that later). The band opted for the photo because they felt it fit the more atmospheric sound they had hired Blake to capture. According to Ament, the awe-inspiring nebula also acted as a reminder of the band’s relative smallness in the grand scheme of the universe, a sense of humility that would serve the group well during the Binaural sessions.

    Making Waves: We’re taught to appreciate the good times because they can’t last forever. Well, if the Yield sessions could be described as calm, tranquil waters, then the seas during the Binaural recordings have to be considered choppy, very choppy indeed. Luckily, the band hadn’t reverted back to the poor studio chemistry that had plagued them prior to Yield, which is a blessing, because their maturity may be all they had going for them. What went wrong? Vedder hit a patch of writer’s block like you read about, leaving him pained to find lyrics for his compositions; Mike McCready’s addiction to painkillers landed him in rehabilitation; and the band was still trying to figure out how to best record alongside new drummer and Yield Tour savior Matt Cameron. To paraphrase Crash Davis in Bull Durham, “They were dealing with a lot of shit here.”


    10 Club: The Binaural Tour accounts for my second and third times seeing Pearl Jam, and hearing these songs played live made the album, initially a disappointment, start to grow on me. While the record’s songs don’t pop up in setlists anywhere near as frequently as they once did, “Insignificance” would be my go-to here. Its circling build, stops and starts, whirling chorus, echoed lyrics, and sprint to the finish never disappoint.

    Lost Dog: The initial tracklist announced for Binaural looked very different than the final product. In addition to altered sequencing, the original listing didn’t include “God’s Dice” and featured “Sad,” “Fatal,” “In the Moonlight,” and “Education.” Other tracks from these sessions or around this time that didn’t make the cut included “Sweet Lew,” “Hitchhiker,” “Strangest Tribe,” and “Drifting.”

    Most of these songs would later end up on 2003’s Lost Dogs compilation, which is a relief because these are probably the band’s strongest B-sides and outtakes since Ten. Gun to my head, “Fatal,” Blake’s favorite recording from the sessions, barely ekes out “Sad.” Fun fact: As Vedder points out in the Lost Dogs liner notes, Gossard’s original chorus (“The answer’s in Plato”) sounded too much like Play-Doh, so now and forever the answer will always be “fatal.” Missed an endorsement deal there, boys.


    Nothing to Say: Eddie Vedder’s writer’s block grew so crippling that he had to ban himself from guitar and force himself to write lyrics before composing any more music. Luckily, Gossard and Ament, who penned lyrics to two songs apiece on Yield, were able to step up again for Binaural. Ament provided words for “God’s Dice” and lead single “Nothing as It Seems,” and Gossard completed lyrics for “Thin Air,” “Of the Girl,” and “Rival.” Vedder documented his bout with the hidden song “Writer’s Block,” which begins six minutes and 49 seconds into closing track “Parting Ways” and consists of only crunching typewriter noises. Tap your way out of it, Eddie!

    What’s “Binaural” Mean?: “Binaural” simply means involving two ears. The album took its name because Tchad Blake often uses binaural recording techniques, the goal of which is to rig two microphones to create a 3-D stereo sound that makes the listener feel as if they are in the studio with the band. Check out “Sleight of Hand,” “Rival,” and “Of the Girl” to experience the best examples of this effect. Now, try without headphones. Notice a difference? If not, make sure you didn’t accidentally reach for your earmuffs.

    Rearviewmirror: Forget that this somber record is Pearl Jam’s first to not go platinum or that Britney Spears prevented it from debuting at No 1. Binaural is a classic grower and one that’s become more appreciated as time has passed. The real miracle remains that the record turned out as well as it did. After a home run with Yield and a trot around the bases that enabled them to play stops they had skipped over during their Ticketmaster battles, the band were clearly ready to try something else. But how often does the combo of new producer, new recording techniques, new drummer, blocked songwriter, and rehabbing lead guitarist produce a fresh classic? Not often, and it doesn’t here, but for as scatterbrained and unsure of itself as Binaural may seem at times, barn-burners like “God’s Dice” and “Insignificance” and that impeccable run of “Light Years,” “Nothing as It Seems,” and “Thin Air” remain must-hears nearly 20 years later. No real grievances to pledge here.

    — M.M.


    08. Riot Act (2002)


    Runtime: 54:15

    The Fixer: The band parted ways with Tchad Blake after the Binaural sessions and brought aboard former Pearl Jam engineer Adam Kaspar to produce, per Matt Cameron’s suggestion. As was the case with both Yield and Binaural, each band member brought several ideas into the studio to hash out. Despite the dark subject matter of the record, the band felt relaxed with Kaspar, recording the bulk of the album live with minimal takes over the course of two sessions at Seattle’s Studio X.

    Also speeding up the recording process was Vedder overcoming Binaural’s stifling writer’s block, penning the bulk of the album’s lyrics himself and teaming twice with Gossard and once each with Ament and Cameron on lyrics for their own compositions. Apparently, one of the more memorable images from the sessions involved Vedder setting up his typewriter in the corner of the studio so that he could write while his bandmates played, a testament to his enthusiasm throughout the recording process.

    Sheets of Empty Canvas: Jeff Ament took the cover photo of the two metal skeletons wearing crowns. Not much else is known about the album cover’s intent, but it surely fits the vibe of the record. Two monarchs laid to waste on an album largely about mortality, combating hopelessness, and facing the realities of a society crumbling under the weight of its own greed and deceit. You could spend all day making the connections. Interpret as you will.


    Making Waves: While Binaural saw the band contemplating bleak possibilities, Riot Act found depressing realities staring them directly in the face. Post-9/11 politics had shifted the American landscape so much in such a short time; the band were still coping with the accidental deaths of nine fans at their 2000 Roskilde Festival performance (alluded to in the lyrics of “Love Boat Captain”); and the death of friend and Alice in Chains frontman Layne Staley (the subject of outtake “4/20/02” and possibly the inspiration for “Save You”) had cast a pall over the Seattle music community. “I’m optimistic yet disillusioned, hopeful yet frustrated,” Vedder explained, suggesting that the record captures his confused and ambivalent state accurately. In other words, “I smile, but who am I kidding?”

    10 Club: Riot Act doesn’t get much attention these days in concert, but “Love Boat Captain” was a regular presence during that album’s tour. The metaphor of not just a boat but a captain being needed to steer us out of our collective troubled waters still resonates, as do the allusions to the fallen at Roskilde, and the conclusion that “it can’t be said enough/ All you need is love.” It’s a rock song that perfectly uses pace and soft-loud dynamics, along with Boom Gaspar’s inimitable organ, to navigate the audience through the storm and towards calmer waters.

    Lost Dog: “4/20/02,” the Layne Stayley tribute, which Vedder wrote the day he heard of the singer’s death, got lost in the numbers crunch, according to Vedder. That’s probably for the best, especially considering “Save You” still made it on the record. But choosing between “Other Side,” “Undone,” and “Down” ain’t easy. Let’s go with the irresistible and absurdly upbeat “Down,” knowing full well that this poppy song, while thematically compatible, would’ve been an outcast among Riot Act’s darker-sounding fare. A lesson that no song, no matter how great, is guaranteed a home on an album.


    “Bu$hleaguer”: Up here in my tree, I’m going to go far out on a very thick, trunk-like limb: I don’t think Eddie Vedder voted for George W. Bush — either time. During the band’s Riot Act Tour, Vedder’s vitriol boiled over in a series of stage performances in which he donned a Bush mask and then impaled it on his mic stand before singing. The stunt caused some fans to boo, chant back “U … S … A,” or even walk out at some venues. While it’s hard to imagine “Bu$hleaguer” ever finding its way into a setlist again, its short-lived run reminds us just how much the band and America have been through and changed since this record came out.

    Who’s Boom?: Remember that story about Lana Turner being discovered while sitting at a soda counter? Well, Kenneth “Boom” Gaspar was discovered after 30 years of quietly playing local gigs in Hawaii. C.J. Ramone introduced him to Eddie Vedder, and the two became fast friends, which quickly led to the jam session that produced the beginnings of “Love Boat Captain.” Not only has Gaspar brought his piano, keyboard, and organ to Pearl Jam’s arsenal since 2002, but one senses that Vedder felt a fresh wind at his back by finding a new companion during a period colored by loss.

    Rearviewmirror: Riot Act finds Pearl Jam in a dark place, consumed by bad feelings and frustrated by the state of the world around them. What keeps the album from sinking under the weight of its own grief is that the bulk of the songs take a stand, cling to an ideal, or actively search for hope and love. While the record can get overtly political at times, shaming the greedy, denouncing a president, or decrying a society that tramples each other to get on top, the album’s true power comes from its refusal to succumb to hopelessness. “Take the reigns, steer us toward the clear,” Vedder urges on “Love Boat Captain.” The waters may be treacherous, but Riot Act never loses its desire to endure or throw a life preserver to others weathering a similar storm.

    — M.M.


    07. Pearl Jam (2006)


    Runtime: 49:44

    The Fixer: After their cozy work together on Riot Act, Pearl Jam gave producer Adam Kasper another call and they returned to Seattle’s Studio X. Once again, it was a positive experience, despite the fact that they came in without any songs or material, a decision that made recording 1993’s Vs. quite torturous (more on that later). Instead, they slowly fleshed out the songs together, starting from November 2004 and finally closing up shop in February 2006.

    Much of this time, however, was spent either touring or raising a family, but the relaxed vibes allowed them to piece together around 25 songs. Vedder said his songwriting required “the patience of a National Geographic photographer sitting underneath the bush in a tent,” though admitted he often wrote eight or 11 drafts of a song, only to choose the first. Prior to its release, Pearl Jam went shopping for labels after their contract with Epic ran up, landing with J Records, who tried courting them as early as 2001. #nevergiveup

    Sheets of Empty Canvas: Hands down their most minimalistic cover art to date, Pearl Jam has since been dubbed The Avocado Album by fans and for obvious reasons. Photographer Brad Klausen took a sliced avocado, tossed it on a blue background, and, well, that’s that. But, what does it mean? Here’s one explanation from McCready: “That symbolizes just kind of … Ed’s at the end of the process and said, ‘For all I care right now, we’ve done such a good job on this record, and we’re kind of tired from it. Let’s throw an avocado on the cover.’ I think that’s what happened, and our art director goes, ‘Hey, that’s not a bad idea.’ I think we were watching the Super Bowl, and we had some guacamole or something.” Funny story, but in retrospect, it feels like the band undersold the album. They’ve always had top-notch artwork, but they really shit Satan’s bed on this one.


    Making Waves: It’s bizarre that given the political atmosphere at the time of the album’s release — one year removed from Hurricane Katrina and two years away from escaping the hellish Bush administration — Pearl Jam squeaked by without any controversy. Much of this has to do with the changing of the tides; if you recall, Riot Act surfaced only a year and some change after 9/11, and Americans weren’t ready for a venomous song like “Bu$hleaguer.” But in 2006, the country had suffered through three years of the Iraq War and trust was at an all-time low. So, songs like “World Wide Suicide,” “Marker in the Sand,” and “Army Reserve” were met with consideration rather than vitriolic rage. To top it all off, Pearl Jam even returned to headline festivals, something they swore off after the tragedies that occurred during their performance at the Roskilde Festival in 2000.

    10 Club: Pearl Jam marked an aggressive turn for the band, at least in the new millennium. Whereas Riot Act came off calm, collected, and meditative — well, outside of “Save You” — its follow-up steamrolled through one rocker after the next. Because of this, so much of the album works well live, screaming with anthems both political (“World Wide Suicide,” “Comatose”) and existential (“Life Wasted,” “Big Wave”). Though, none of them hold a candle live to the cascading symmetry of “Severed Hand,” a sweeping roar of alternative slush that highlights every member with aplomb. Cameron rattles and hums, McCready and Gossard play a game of hot potato, Ament gives Flea a run for his super glue, and Vedder conducts it all like a champ. Sidenote: Does anyone else feel like the bridge sounds a little like the chorus to “Insignificance”? No? Just me? What’s the deal?

    Lost Dog: Not too many outtakes have surfaced from this album, which is surprising considering the amount of material they allegedly amassed over the lengthy recording time. A handful popped up a couple of years ago, but they were mostly instrumentals, alternate takes, or rough vocal mixes. Few proved interesting, especially the Gossard-sung “10 Billion Years,” but none of them warranted anything more than a cursory listen. However, one outtake that the band clearly has a soft spot for is the meandering, jammy rocker “Of the Earth,” which actually sounds like the lost link between Riot Act and Pearl Jam. For that reason alone it’s worth seeking out, but you might not have to, considering the band’s been tossing it into recent sets.


    Clear Eyes, Full Hearts: One of the finer attributes of Pearl Jam is how the band can sound so sweet when they’re being so soft. None of the tracks have as much charm, however, as “Come Back” — the cowboy lullaby best set under a starry night. Music supervisor Liza Richardson would agree, which is why she used the song in the third episode of NBC’s Friday Night Lights, aka the greatest network television show of all time. The angsty ballad drops during one hell of a scene, right when Coach Taylor and the Panthers leave bad boy hunkster Tim Riggins alone in the rain and the dark. Forced to walk home, he eventually runs into his best friend’s girlfriend, Lyla Garrity, and the two play a rather wicked game together. Vedder peaks over the refrain as we roam over the rest of Dillon, Texas. It’s fucking great and such a brilliant marriage of sight and sound.

    West Memphis Three: Sometime in the late ’90s, Vedder took a real interest in the 1994 case involving the West Memphis Three and the controversial incarceration of Jessie Misskelley, Damien Echols, and Jason Baldwin. The three teens were found guilty of murder and sexual mutilation with Echols sentenced to death and Misskelley and Baldwin given life in prison. However, the investigation and the trial itself were mired in errors and inconsistencies, which led multiple documentarians, celebrities, and musicians (like Vedder) to rally behind the three in support of a fair trial.

    Vedder was one of the loudest proponents, addressing the situation at performances and various events across the country. For Pearl Jam, he linked up with Echols, who was still in jail at the time, and the two wrote “Army Reserve” together. “How long must she stand/ Before the ground gives way,” Vedder sings, painting a haunting portrait about a troubled mother trying to raise a son as her husband fights far, far away. The greatest line of the song is when he asks, “How loud can silence get?” One has to imagine that came from a very dark place within Echols’ tortured soul.


    Fortunately, Echols, Misskelley, and Baldwin were released in August 2011 after serving 18 years and 78 days in prison, thanks to new evidence and a retrial. Vedder greeted the boys at the prison on the day of release, a memory he recalled to Rolling Stone a couple of years later: “It was tantamount to seeing a child born, but instead of nine months, it took 18 years for them. [Laughs] I think I was involved for about 15 years. The dramatic last couple weeks were probably some of the most gut-wrenching times of my life, so I can only imagine what it was like for them.” Can’t find a better man.

    Rearviewmirror: When Pearl Jam plopped down in the early summer days of 2006, most critics and fans agreed that it was a concerted return to the band’s roots. But it also felt like an evolution, as if they were able to take the classic rock echoes of Riot Act and bring them up to speed with the energy of the mid-aughts. Granted, a lot of that has to do with Vedder’s wide-eyed storytelling, which efficiently captures the anxieties of post-9/11 America through introspective parables on war, but there’s also something assuredly economical about the sound itself. There’s not a lot of fluff to each song; it’s all very to-the-point, especially musically. That lean approach would come back to bite them on later albums, but here, it proved to be an advantage.

    — M.R.

    06. No Code (1996)


    Runtime: 49:37

    The Fixer: Pearl Jam’s fourth album marked the third time producer Brendan O’Brien manned the helm. The often-heated recording sessions began with a week in Chicago during one of the deadliest heatwaves in city history before migrating south to New Orleans where “Off He Goes” was laid down. The remainder of the recording took place at Stone Gossard’s own Studio Litho in Seattle. The sessions themselves proved to be almost more than the band could take.

    Personal issues, intra-band turmoil, and the pressures of writing and recording while still touring Vitalogy mounted early on, which may account for this unabashedly eclectic album that seems to turn inward and decidedly away from the band’s multi-platinum past. In the grander scope of the band, O’Brien considers No Code a “transitional” album, and Eddie Vedder has said that making the record “was all about gaining perspective.” Kinda like sitting up in a tree.

    Sheets of Empty Canvas: Ten may feature Pearl Jam’s most iconic album art and packaging, but nothing trumps No Code in terms of sheer ambition. In a layout conceived by “Jerome Turner” (a Vedder alias), the cover, a quilt-work collection of oddball Polaroids (yes, one is actually Dennis Rodman’s eyeball) submitted by the band and friends, unfolds to create the album’s triangle/eyeball logo when looked at from a distance. Even more unique, duplicates of 36 of the 156 Polaroids were included in the packaging with song lyrics on the reverse side via four different sets of nine (the sets labeled, wait for it: C, O, D, or E).


    In other words, it took multiple purchases, some wheeling and dealing, or pilfering from used CD stores to collect either a card for each of the album’s 13 songs or the entire collection of 36. Whether Vedder had a love of photo albums or was simply harking back to his baseball card-collecting days, his unique concept made it possible for young men to say things like, “I’ll give you a ‘Smile’ for a ‘Mankind’.” Take the deal, son. Take the deal and run.

    Making Waves: These days, Pearl Jam are the epitome of harmony for a rock band. The same can’t be said for the No Code era. Gossard blames the battles with corporate Goliath Ticketmaster for making it “more and more difficult to be excited about being part of the band.” However, things weren’t much better in the studio. Jeff Ament wasn’t notified of the No Code recording sessions until three days in, Mike McCready explaining that having him there would’ve only sparked hostilities. The bassist nearly quit out of frustration with Vedder’s growing control over the band’s creative process.

    Clearly, Pearl Jam were feeling the stresses of being one of the most successful bands on the planet, and that may in part explain No Code’s unpredictable detours. Something had to change for the band to continue on. Ament has gone on to say, “In some ways, it’s [No Code’s] like the band’s story. It’s about growing up.” Luckily, the group emerged from the No Code sessions much happier than they went in. Don’t it make you smile?


    10 Club: God, “Hail, Hail” whips up a frenzy like few other Pearl Jam songs, and “Present Tense” turns into a crowd-wide karaoke every time. But the distinction of best live cut has to go to the album’s best song: “Off He Goes.” Vedder’s introspective song about his flakiness as a friend ranks among his very best and remains a relative concert rarity. It’s a perfectly composed exhale that shows the singer lay himself emotionally bare. Unlike the pal in the song, hearing this cut live is never a disappointment.

    Lost Dog: If you ask Stone Gossard, he’ll tell you “Dead Man” should’ve made the album (or at least the soundtrack for Dead Man Walking, which it was originally intended for). But my nod goes to the once rejected “All Night,” which has occasionally made setlists over the years. Really, does any line better sum up a Pearl Jam concert than “Why be satisfied/ We got all night”? And, as Gossard cites, this marks the band’s real first foray into the concept of multi-laying vocals. Um, “Arc,” anyone?

    That Singer Has Stones: It’s impossible to imagine anyone fronting Pearl Jam other than Eddie Vedder, but for at least one song, rhythm guitarist Stone Gossard had the bottle to take over both the mic and wine bottle (well, maybe just the mic). “ManKind” marked the first time someone other than Vedder contributed lyrics or sang lead on a Pearl Jam song. Since Gossard’s garage rocker got laid down, Pearl Jam have played the song live 41 times. And if you believe in patterns or codes, you’ll want to note that the band have broken out “ManKind” once a year dating back to 2008 (exception: 2013). So, if you’re at a PJ show and catch this one, consider your Christmas gift a year of setlist bragging rights.


    Irons-ing Things Out: By all accounts, new drummer Jack Irons (of Red Hot Chili Peppers fame), as much as producer Brendan O’Brien, kept the band together through the more tumultuous moments of recording. Call him a mediator, a guru, or just that guy the band didn’t want to disappoint, but Irons’ peacekeeping contributions to Pearl Jam might even trump his work behind the kit. Just ask Eddie Vedder, who wrote “Around the Bend” as a lullaby for Irons’ son.

    Rearviewmirror: If Vitalogy is Pearl Jam’s “experimental” album, then No Code is the record that truly severs ties with the band’s past. “It’s full of misinformation,” Vedder once explained, and 20 years later that code has grown no easier to decipher. From its quiet, cataloging beginning to its lullaby ending, there’s no putting a finger on anything conclusive. It turns decidedly inward (“Sometimes,” “Present Tense”), almost junkyard tribal (“Who You Are,” “In My Tree”), creepily autobiographical (“Lukin,” “Red Mosquito”), and outright weird (“I’m Open”) and never offers a true connective thread other than maybe the realization that nothing here really fits together.

    It’s an album you grow to love by loving its individual parts: an acoustic song about being a shitty friend (“Off He Goes”), a pining, harmonica-accented ballad (“Smile”), or a barn-burning garage rocker about a struggling couple (“Hail, Hail”). This is one code you don’t crack by putting the pieces together — better to leave the clues scattered across the floor like those strange Polaroid inserts.

    — M.M.


    05. Gigaton (2020)

    Pearl Jam - Gigaton

    Runtime: 57:03

    The Fixer: You don’t have Pearl Jam as we know them today without producer Brendan O’Brien; it wouldn’t be that far-fetched to consider him the band’s George Martin. Still, maybe things had gotten too familiar on the O’Brien-helmed Backspacer and Lightning Bolt records. While each album had a handful of highlights, neither felt like it had a definitive sound or purpose. Enter co-producer Josh Evans, who has engineered and teched for Pearl Jam in the past, but really cut his producer chops on projects by Soundgarden, Thunderpussy, and Gary Clark, Jr. The band will likely speak on it more in the weeks to come, but we doubt it was total coincidence that fresh blood in the producer’s chair led to the band’s freshest, most creative, and relevant (message-wise) album in decades.

    Sheets of Empty Canvas: Pearl Jam have always been all about the green (and I don’t mean money), so it wasn’t shocking that they used a photo like Paul Nicklen’s image of rushing “meltwater” from a large sheet of ice. Add in the band name in a blood-red EKG scanner font, and the idea that our planet — and all She sustains — being in deep trouble becomes quite clear. The sense of urgency that should evoke is most definitely present in the opening tracks of Gigaton. The band also tweeted out this information for those wondering:

    “Did you know… A gigaton is what scientists use to measure the loss of ice from Earth’s largest ice sheets in Greenland and Antarctica. This weight is equivalent to over 100 million elephants or 6 million blue whales. #Gigaton


    Do these guys know how to party, or what?

    Pearl Jam - Gigaton Wide

    Making Waves: While disappointing, cancelling the first leg of their upcoming tour due to the global Coronavirus scare is the responsible decision, especially given that Pearl Jam fans are given to fly around both the country and world to attend shows. Gigaton, while not shy when it comes time to talk today’s state of hate and untrust, really hasn’t ruffled feathers; rather, it’s provided succor to those who already understand we’re weathering a horrifying storm here in the United States. The highest-cresting waves probably came as a result of lead single “Dance of the Clairvoyants,” a danceable song that’s been universally compared to Talking Heads. Apparently, a few PJ fans entrenched in their ways wish things would stay same as it ever was.

    10 Club: A quick YouTube search will find Vedder behind the organ singing an early version of “River Cross” on solo tour dates from a couple years back. But it’s hard to believe that “Superblood Wolfmoon” won’t become another “Do the Evolution” in sets. This second single roams wild and unpredictable, growling, echoing — sleek and filthy at the same time thanks to Mike McCready’s needle-threading guitar heroics. “This life I love is going way too fast,” Vedder seethes in a fickle, esoteric bluster of love, loss, and hope that accidentally becomes an anthem without all the likely signposts of, say, “The Fixer.” It’s raw, unleashed, and unpredictable songwriting at its best. It’s difficult to imagine it not translating to the stage.

    Lost Dog (Best B-Side, Outtake): More info will likely trickle out about cuts that were left on the studio floor. In the meantime, it’s hard to disagree that longtime live rarity “Of the Earth” (first out in 2010) wouldn’t have fit Gigaton perfectly in both tone and message.


    “I Know You’ll Be a Star”: The band invited fans out among the stars in a rollout that asked them to download an augmented reality application and point it at the moon. Not only did that yield an early snippet of “Superblood Wolfmoon,” but it also displayed animated versions of the band dancing around the moon.

    PJ30: Just sayin’. So far Pearl Jam have celebrated their 30 years with their best album of the last 20. If the Coronavirus ever wavers, it’ll be interesting to see if the party is over or just beginning.

    Rearviewmirror: Despite the ominous, red EKG font on the cover art of Gigaton, Pearl Jam’s 11th studio album has me grinning more with each spin. While the planet may not be well and the message often dire and foreboding, the band themselves show zero signs of flat-lining. It’s been ages since Pearl Jam, the studio band, have come across as this dialed in, innovative, and sincere in their songwriting. Does it take a planet on a climatic knife’s edge and a democracy in peril to light that fire and sense of urgency in a band three decades in? One who could just as easily rest on their laurels as a peerless touring band. Maybe so. But, regardless of the precise catalyst, Pearl Jam have now brought us Gigaton — an album of thunder and tranquility, portent and hope — in a time when we desperately need to understand both.

    — M.M.


    04. Vs. (1993)


    Runtime: 46:11

    The Fixer: You guessed it, folks: Brendan O’Brien. Vs. marked the first time the Southern producer shook hands with Pearl Jam, kicking off a collaboration that continues to this day. At the time of recording, though, O’Brien had already made a name for himself through multiple blockbuster albums, having engineered Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Blood Sugar Sex Magik and produced Stone Temple Pilots’ Core. Ditching the heavy reverb and grandiose sound of Ten, O’Brien whittled the band down to its bare necessities and captured their evolving stage magic.

    It was a fairly easygoing experience for the band, which included newfound drummer Dave Abbruzzese (following the footsteps of Matt Chamberlain and Dave Krusen), but Vedder struggled lyrically, opting to sleep in cars, saunas, and what have you in order to find inspiration amid the “comfortable” recording studios of Nicasio’s The Site and Seattle’s Potatohead. No wonder he would later write music inspired by Christopher McCandless.

    Sheets of Empty Canvas: Think that cover with Bo Peep’s moneymaker is rough? That was the point. Ament took the grungy photo in an effort to capture the feelings of the band. Coming off the success of Ten, they all felt the pressures of hype and anticipation and the risk of disappointment. They were up against the media, their record label, and even their fans, which is why the original title was dubbed Five Against One, a line from the main lyrical hook in “Animal.”


    Instead, they wisely slimmed it down to the rather self-contained title of Vs. “For me, that title represented a lot of struggles that you go through trying to make a record,” Gossard explained. “Your own independence — your own soul — versus everybody else’s.” So, when you relisten to angsty, uncomfortable songs like “Go,” “Rats,” or the aforementioned “Animal,” know they all felt like sheep against a fence.


    Making Waves: You’ve heard about Pearl Jam vs. Ticketmaster, right? Oh, to be young. Well, the Seattle brethren weren’t too happy when they discovered the ticketing conglomerate were adding service charges to their tickets. In retaliation, they accused the company of being a monopoly, based on their anti-competitive practices allowing markup prices of more than 30% on every ticket, and canceled the tour in opposition. Bold move, but bad for business as they would quickly learn the difficulties in trying to mount a tour while waging a war against the corporate giant.

    Still, the United States Department of Justice invited the band to testify against Ticketmaster in June 1994, a case that was sadly dropped later down the road. What came of the whole ordeal, however, was a lot of respect from critics, specifically Jim DeRogatis who said the battle “proved that a rock band which isn’t comprised of greed heads can play stadiums and not milk the audience for every last dime… it indicated that idealism in rock ‘n’ roll is not the sole province of those ’60s bands enshrined in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.” That’s the type of respect that lasts forever.


    10 Club: Ever since Matt Cameron joined the band, “W.M.A.” has never sounded better. But c’mon, that’s hardly the go-to live cut off of Vs. — no, that honor goes to “Rearviewmirror.” The rollicking bruiser feels like a purging, a chance to let go of everything, and there’s no better place for those emotions to run amok than at a rock show. That ending can be so revelatory, too — for the band, for the fans, for everyone. As Vedder bleeds into his microphone, singing the bridge (“I gather speed from you fucking with me/ Once and for all I’m far away/ I hardly believe, finally the shades, are raised, hey”) that segues straight into the final repetition (“Saw things so much clearer/ Once you, once you”), you are compelled to scream “Rearviewmirror” in return. That is, if you’re not staring like a booze zombie at McCready, who might be the song’s left-field MVP.

    Lost Dog: Both “Whipping” and “Better Man” were cut from Vs., only to pop up a year later on Vitalogy. So, let’s leave those out of the picture, even though they’re miles ahead of what we’re left with: the folksy strummer “Hold On,” their cover of Victoria Williams’ “Crazy Mary,” their collaboration with Cypress Hill in “Real Thing,” the clumsy outtake of “Cready Stomp,” and the tranquil ditty “Hard to Imagine.” Out of that bunch, the choice selection is probably the very last one, mostly due to its simplicity and how Vedder can make the most of it. He paints some vivid images (“Light your pillow/ Lay back/ Watch the flames”) and offers up some existential pathos (“Things were different then/ All is different now”) that he’d wear much better on Yield.

    But Let’s Not Forget That Cypress Hill Collab Actually Was a “Real Thing”:

    Rock n’ Roll Olympics: Upon its release, Vs. set the record for selling the most copies of an album in its first week, a gold medal win that the band held on to for nearly half a decade. (Given their ensuing career, that’s almost hard to believe today.) Hell, the album even charted for five weeks at No. 1 on the Billboard 200, the longest of any of their records to date. Since then, their sophomore album has been certified 7x platinum by the RIAA, shy about six to Ten’s whopping 13, but hey, not too shabby for a sequel. We’re sure Vedder is thrilled…



    Rearviewmirror: There’s a lot to love about Vs. all these years later. It’s a loud, vibrant, and kinetic album, one that tosses and turns in equal measure. Despite his personal conflicts behind the scenes, Vedder proved to be a resilient songwriter and storyteller, tackling a range of issues both societal and political, from parables about child abuse (“Daughter”) to more personal fare like his torturous relationship with the media (“Blood”). Even now, it’s fairly prescient, thanks to its allegories about police brutality (“W.M.A.”) and gun obsession (“Glorified G”). Pearl Jam were figuring shit out and their growing pains turned out to be divine entertainment for millions of listeners. Revisiting Vs., it’s easy to tell there’s an insistence at hand to do something different, only here it feels like a personal vendetta, as opposed to their follow-up, where it comes off more like a catharsis.

    — M.R.

    03. Vitalogy (1994)


    Runtime: 55:30

    The Fixer: Pearl Jam opted to double dip with Brendan O’Brien, who produced Vs. for the group only a year prior and added another fevered sheen that further distanced the outfit from Ten. The band recorded most of Vitalogy during their breaks on tour supporting their sophomore album, spread out between studios in New Orleans, Atlanta, and inevitably Seattle. Tensions were at an all-time high, however, as Vedder’s enduring leadership overwhelmed the band, specifically Gossard, who had been the band’s pseudo mediator. Because collaboration was near-impossible, the band mostly jammed, and according to Gossard, “80 percent of the songs were written 20 minutes before they were recorded.” Fun fact: Drummer Dave Abbruzzese was later fired and replaced by former Red Hot Chili Peppers sticks man Jack Irons. Fun times.

    Sheets of Empty Canvas: Originally, the album was called Life — you know, like the cereal or the game or what we do every day — but that changed when Vedder found a medical book at a garage sale, which became the basis for the album’s artwork. Those who remember it popping up in actual record stores or later in CD Warehouses probably recall seeing it poke out among the rest of the Pearl Jam offerings, and that’s not a mistake. As Ament explained: “We tried really hard to make it like a book, kind of tipped it so it opened horizontally, which pissed off record stores: They had to put it in sideways.” There’s something to be said about its vintage lettering and the rugged minimalism of its leather fitting. It’s so official-looking, as if the band knew exactly what they were creating — and, despite the chaos behind the scenes, the album proves as much.


    Making Waves: Still lobbying against Ticketmaster, the tour behind Vitalogy was a disaster of sorts, plagued with sudden cancellations and stressful finagling. The band found themselves on an island unto themselves as zero bands agreed to fight against the ticketing conglomerate, and this left them vulnerable to error. One such crisis took place at San Francisco’s Golden State Park, where 50,000 fans gathered to watch them perform.


    Vedder, however, fell ill seven songs into the 21-song setlist, leaving the microphone for Neil Young. A solid replacement, sure, but the ensuing cancellations only caused more of a headache for the band. “We were so hardheaded about the 1995 tour,” Ament later admitted. “Had to prove we could tour on our own, and it pretty much killed us, killed our career.” Luckily, that wasn’t quite true.

    10 Club: The breadwinner here would be “Better Man,” especially for how it gets the audience on their feet and their lungs in the air, but “Corduroy” is the true seeker’s pick. It’s a guaranteed gem on any Pearl Jam setlist and for a handful of key moments: 1. When that signature riff builds and builds at the beginning, 2. When the audience rigorously claps along to said riff, 3. When Vedder (and literally everyone in the room) pleads, “Everything has changed…”, and 4.

    When the boys break it all down only to piece it back together again. According to, “Corduroy” is their fifth most played song, which doesn’t exactly spell underdog, but for some reason, it always feels like it’s the song to root for. Perhaps that has something to do with its blue-collar pathos, or maybe it’s simply because the rocker can go toe-to-toe with their other bona fide hits.


    Lost Dog: Because it was such a shit show to create, Vitalogy doesn’t have too many b-sides. There’s “Out of My Mind” from the “Not for You” single, and that’s even a live recording (and quite forgettable at that). Still, there are a few alternative takes worth absorbing, specifically for “Better Man,” “Corduroy,” and “Nothingman,” but the former is the one to keep. Don’t get me wrong, the original recording of “Better Man” is exceptional, a juicy blend of the theatrical and lyrical, but when it’s pared down to just an organ and a guitar, lines like, “Pretends to sleep as he looks her over,” or, “Talkin’ to herself, there’s no one else who needs to know” take on a new life. What’s wild is how the meditative ballad, which dates back to Vedder’s pre-Pearl Jam days, was originally considered for Vs. before getting the axe. Let’s just be thankful it really was back again.

    Mirror Ball: It’s not a coincidence that Neil Young filled in for Vedder during that aforementioned San Francisco gig. After all, that same month the group released an album with the Canadian crooner titled Mirror Ball. Recorded in four days during January 1995, naturally by Mr. O’Brien, the album is loose and raw like Vitalogy, bottling up the type of kinetic energy both acts tend to express on stage. Young likened the album to a bridge between the idealism of his ’60s generation and the more cynical times of the ’90s, and the music reflects that idea, with tracks like “Song X,” “Downtown,” and “Throw Your Hatred Down” oscillating mildly between the two eras. It sounds like an extension of Young’s own Rust Never Sleeps, which makes sense considering “Hey Hey, My My (Into the Black)” is the reason he’s widely considered the Godfather of Grunge.

    Hello, Grammy: Despite peaking at No. 11 on the Billboard Modern Rock Tracks chart and No. 18 on the Billboard Hot 100, “Spin the Black Circle” nabbed Pearl Jam their first and only Grammy, winning Best Hard Rock Performance at the 1996 Grammy Awards. They earned it; after all, Gossard’s brilliant exercise in ’70s punk rock finds Vedder ripping his own head off with some of their loudest and most manic work, at least at the time. It’s just funny how that was the song to win over the suits at the Grammys, especially when the record could offer a crowd-pleaser like “Better Man.” As to why they haven’t won since, well, it’s not that much of a surprise. Upon accepting the award, Vedder remarked: “I don’t know what this means. I don’t think it means anything.” We’d say it was the age talking, but we really wouldn’t be surprised if he said as much today.


    Rearviewmirror: Some might argue Vitalogy was the first legitimate Pearl Jam record, the one where they started flexing their creative muscles, got weird, and chewed shit up. They’re not wrong. This sucker’s all over the place in all the right ways; it’s heavier (“Not for You,” “Spin the Black Circle,” “Whipping”), it’s batshit crazy (“Bugs,” “Stupid Mop”), it’s bizarre (“Aye Davanita,” “Pry, To”), it’s even messy (“Satan’s Bed”), but it’s also achingly poignant (“Nothingman,” “Immortality”), agreeably saccharine (“Better Man”), and incredibly blunt (“Last Exit,” “Corduroy”). In hindsight, it’s the album that split the Pearl Jam camp into threes, fours, or even fives, depending on how much you like their spread. Nothing would be the same for them after this, and although there’s a self-destruction narrative to be found here, most would contend they were simply creating.

    — M.R.

    02. Yield (1998)


    Runtime: 48:37

    The Fixer: Brendan O’Brien returned yet again for Yield, making it four records in a row at the helm. The album was recorded throughout 1997 at both Seattle’s Studio X and Gossard’s Studio Litho. One notable change was a far more relaxed and collaborative atmosphere following the hellish sessions for No Code. A large part of that new vibe came from Eddie Vedder relinquishing some creative control and suggesting that his bandmates bring in their own finished compositions. Not only did it take some pressure off Vedder to produce songs, but it sparked a new sense of brotherhood and partnership among band members.

    “Everybody really got a little bit of their say on that record,” said Jeff Ament, who was largely cut out of the No Code sessions. “Because of that, everybody feels like they’re an integral part of the band.” A more mature Pearl Jam also exercised more patience in the studio than ever before, Stone Gossard noting that the band allotted time to rework songs until they were just right. As Jack Irons explained, “We didn’t put any time limit on it [recording Yield]. It was like, ‘When this record’s done, we call it a record.'”

    Sheets of Empty Canvas: For my money, there’s no more gorgeous Pearl Jam album art than Yield’s. The black bars above and beneath Jeff Ament’s photograph of a Montana highway stretching off toward the horizon under a cloudy, blue sky give the cover a rich cinematic quality, and when lifting the package’s front flap, the image of that same yield sign appearing in the middle of a serene, crystal-blue ocean remains branded in one’s mind for good. The idea of the yield sign came from the band reading the novel Ishmael by Daniel Quinn. To Mike McCready, the title and concept meant “being more comfortable with ourselves, with this band.” For Vedder, it symbolized refocusing on what truly matters and realizing what battles really need to be fought. Given the band’s collective harmony while recording Yield, it’s hard to write off their newfound philosophy as mere lip service.


    Making Waves: Let’s just embrace the general calm, shall we?

    10 Club (Best Live Cut): Every last cut from Yield carries its weight in concert. “Do the Evolution,” complete with choir practice, never fails to invigorate a crowd; “Untitled” (not on this record) gorgeously slides into the getaway of “MFC”; and “Lowlight” exudes a calm gratefulness that radiates. But, if the band can only play one cut from Yield, I’m holding out for “Given to Fly.” Part meditation, part epiphany, guitars crash like waves, and Vedder’s voice soars like that tortured man who once ran from his troubles until finally being delivered. It’s that rare moment when we learn to rise above our worries and adversities.

    Lost Dog: There are some oddball choices here. There’s the marine-biological “Whale Song,” which Jack Irons penned music and words for as well as sang lead on. Irons was inspired after learning that a whale’s heart is the size of a Volkswagen, and the track wound up on Music for Our Mother Ocean, Vol. 3. “U,” a straight-ahead about-a-girl rocker, must hold the record for most times the word “You” is used in a song. And “Leatherman,” well, that’s a tribute to a mysterious late-19th century vagabond known for dressing in, you guessed it, leather. Though a bit more of a rarity these days, this turn-of-the-century setlist staple wins for the band’s locked-in clatter, Vedder’s dizzying phrasing, and a history lesson that won’t be covered on any exam ever. Give me some skin, Leatherman!

    I Want My MTV: Six years without a music video doesn’t sound like that long, but when you consider Pearl Jam had released three albums during that stretch, including two of the fastest-selling records of all time, it’s almost baffling to think that no videos supported that type of chart dominance. Stepping away from the medium was a concerted choice, though, following the controversy surrounding 1992’s video for “Jeremy.” As Jeff Ament explained, “Ten years from now, I don’t want people to remember our songs as videos.” This small-screen absence made the announcement of “Do the Evolution” a major development.


    Oh, but there’s one catch: None of the band are actually in the video. (In fact, it wouldn’t be until 2002’s “I Am Mine” that the band appeared again in a video together.) Instead, “Do the Evolution” sees co-directors Todd McFarlane (of Spawn fame) and Kevin Altieri (Batman: The Animated Series) team with Vedder to create an animated rundown of Man’s evolutionary rise, fall, and ultimate destruction. It’s a scathing visual indictment of human solipsism backed by an equally, if not more, aggressive and polemical track. It’s evolution, baby!

    All Those Yesterdays: In many respects, Yield ushered in Pearl Jam as we know them today. But in welcoming that more mature entity, we had to say goodbye, if only temporarily, to some good friends. Following a touring stint in Australia, Jack Irons stepped down as the band’s drummer, sources suggesting that the toll of the band’s marathon-length shows was too taxing. Soundgarden’s Matt Cameron would get the call, learn 80 songs in two weeks, and go on to permanently hold the fort down behind the kit after years of the band playing musical drummers. Also, Yield saw the last collaboration with Brendan O’Brien as producer until he would be called upon to work on 2009’s Backspacer. Godspeed, boys.

    Rearviewmirror: As remarkable as their earlier discography is, Yield acts like the first Pearl Jam album that isn’t preoccupied with distancing itself from Ten or its other predecessors. In fact, it seems like the band have finally come to terms with who they’ve been and, more importantly, found peace in who they’ve become. It’s not surprising then that a more mature outfit could embrace their anthemic past (“Given to Fly,” “In Hiding”), rekindle their raucous youth (“Brain of J,” “Do the Evolution”), update their escape plan (“MFC”), and remain endearingly strange (“Push Me, Pull Me,” “All Those Yesterdays”). Like the band’s new demeanor, Yield comes across as mature, calm, and contemplative, no energy expended on that which can’t be helped. Consider it Pearl Jam’s serenity prayer — with plenty of fire left in the belly.

    — M.M.


    01. Ten (1991)


    Runtime: 53:20

    The Fixer: The late Rakesh “Rick” Parashar handled production on the band’s debut, working with the outfit at Seattle’s London Bridge Studios before ultimately turning the work over for mixing to Tim Palmer of Ridge Farm Studios in Dorking, UK. Parashar, at the time, hadn’t really worked on any major albums outside of Forced Entry’s Uncertain Future in 1989. His work extended outside of the controls, however, as he contributed piano, guitar, organ, and percussion dubs to both “Black” and “Jeremy.” Both Parashar and Palmer seemed to amplify the album by drenching the tracks in reverb, which is why so many of the songs feel anthemic and prescribed for stadiums around the world. It’s the preferred mix a quarter of a century later.

    But not by everyone: Over the years, Vedder has expressed his frustration with the production; in 2006, he told Rolling Stone, “I can listen to the early records [except] the first record … it’s just the sound of the record. It was kind of mixed in a way that was … it was kind of produced.” This might explain why Brendan O’Brien was called in to remix the LP for its 2009 reissue, offering a bare-bones affair that’s much more in line with the band’s late-era output. “I was initially hesitant to mess around with [the legacy of the album],” O’Brien admitted. “After years of persistent nudging from the band, I was able to wrap my head around the idea of offering it as a companion piece to the original — giving a fresh take on it, a more direct sound.”


    Sheets of Empty Canvas: The album artwork for Ten is by far the band’s most enduring sleeve. Conceived by Ament and brought to life by photographer Lance Mercer and designers Lisa Sparagano and Risa Zaitschek, the cover features the band members uniting in a group high-five, and it’s a stirring image. As the bassist explained, “The original concept was about really being together as a group and entering into the world of music as a true band … a sort of all-for-one deal.” The pinkish hues weren’t part of his vision, and the band re-installed its original burgundy portrait when they reissued the album in 2009.


    In hindsight, the image, namely the union between the original bandmates, speaks volumes about where they were mentally at the time. Given the sudden death of frontman Andrew Wood and the dissolution of Mother Love Bone, the high-five takes on a deeper meaning, as Ament implied, and comes across more like a mission statement, a pact between newfound brothers, and it’s a partnership that’s just as vital today as it was then. What’s more, it’s an oak-strong union that has since extended to its millions of fans, as their long-running fan club takes the album’s namesake and continues to draw new members.

    Making Waves: Long before MTV became a cesspool of bludgeoning mediocrity, the network once had a moral code to uphold, which in hindsight is more humorous than tragic, come to think of it. Nevertheless, Mark Pellington’s music video for “Jeremy” — where a kid takes a gun to school and shoots himself — didn’t sit well with the suits who insisted the filmmaker make some edits, specifically the moment the titular boy places the gun in his mouth. As such, there was rampant confusion over what happens in the video with most believing the boy shot his fellow students, mostly due to the blood that splattered on their faces.

    “Probably the greatest frustration I’ve ever had is that the ending [of the “Jeremy” video] is sometimes misinterpreted as that he shot his classmates,” Pellington admitted. “The idea is, that’s his blood on them, and they’re frozen at the moment of looking.” The backlash pushed Pearl Jam to nix any future music videos, not returning to the medium until 1998’s “Do the Evolution.” Sadly, on February 2nd, 1996, 14-year-old Barry Dale Loukaitis shot his teacher and two students at Frontier Middle School in Moses Lake, Washington. During the trial, his prosecutors argued he pulled ideas from the “Jeremy” video.


    10 Club: It’s hard to pull one track off of Ten as a live staple, considering every track off of Ten is a live staple. Even if you scrape away the hits — ahem, “Even Flow,” “Alive,” “Jeremy,” and “Black” — you’re still left with stage stunners like “Why Go,” “Once,” “Oceans,” and even “Porch.” But over the years, the one track that has endured and taken on a new life of its own is the album’s nine-minute closer, “Release.”

    Ironically, it’s now one of their primo go-to openers, and boy when they start it up at any concert … let’s just say there are few songs that ever sound like how they’re told. “I see the world/ Feel the chill,” Vedder sings, and if you’re even a casual fan of Pearl Jam, there’s no way every strand of hair on your body doesn’t stand up with the surrounding crowd. It’s like a hug from a really, really close friend.

    Lost Dog: “State of Love and Trust” has the advantage of appearing on the two-time platinum soundtrack to Cameron Crowe’s 1992 dramedy, Singles. In fact, it’s one of two Pearl Jam cuts — the other being “Breath,” another stellar B-side — that helped embellish the lively Seattle alternative scene the film capitalized on that year. Crowe uses the heartbroken anthem to great effect, though, welding it to his film in the first act, specifically when Kyra Sedgwick has a rather unflattering encounter at a nearby dance club with her current fling. Many tears are shed.


    On its own, the power ballad of sorts really stands tall — and for good reason. There’s so much urgency in the lyrics and Vedder wrings out so many carnal emotions with every word, and that’s kind of the point. It’s about exploring your inner self in the face of love and the torturous conflict that comes from relying on your own instincts. “And I listen for the voice inside my head/ Nothing/ I’ll do this one myself,” the shaggy-haired singer pleads, adding: “Won’t you help me, help me from myself.” How McCready swoops in for the assist makes it all so universally empowering.

    citizen dick

    Touch Me I’m [Citizen] Dick: Matt Dillon’s bandmates for his in-movie band, Citizen Dick, aren’t just any old stand-ins. He’s backed by Vedder, Gossard, and Ament. Their involvement in Singles would tip off a longtime relationship with Crowe that continues to this day. In addition to lensing their 2011 documentary, PJ20, Crowe also shot a video for their scorching 2009 single, “The Fixer.” But Crowe doesn’t just give them some lame cameo. No, they all act as living characters who watch nature documentaries, move equipment, and offer support when the shit hits the fans critically. “A compliment for us is a compliment for you,” Vedder assures Cliff with advice that never gets old.

    While you never actually see Citizen Dick perform — despite a few end-of-practice scenes — the film boasts a number of performances from Soundgarden and Alice in Chains. Towards the end, frontman Chris Cornell even ducks out of Cliff’s apartment to observe the new stereo the idiot frontman installed in his girlfriend’s car. Crowe also tapped another local musician in Tad Doyle (of Tad and Hog Molly), who answers the phone when Bridget Fonda dials the wrong number and thinks she’s talking dirty to Cliff (“Lady, I’ll be right over”). Fun fact: At the time of filming, Pearl Jam were still being referred to as Mookie Blacklock. Imagine if that name took off and stuck with ’em!


    MTV Unplugged: One more reason die-hard fans sought out the 2009 reissue was to finally own a copy of the band’s 1992 performance on MTV Unplugged. It was the first time the set was ever released in any official capacity, and it’s quite a treat, consisting of stripped-down versions of “Oceans,” “State of Love and Trust,” “Alive,” “Black,” “Jeremy,” “Even Flow,” and “Porch.” Didn’t grab the box set when it came out? Well, now you can watch the whole thing via the band’s YouTube channel.

    Rearviewmirror: “It’s no Ten.” How many times have fans said that line over the years? It’s a tasteless one, alright, but there’s a certain weight to the complaint, one that’s been backed up by commercial success, FM radio, and hundreds of setlists littered with material off the 13x platinum album. When it all boils down to pennies, pomp, and circumstance, Pearl Jam have never released another album that’s even come close to the watermark set by Ten.

    Which is why we’ll never stop hearing that line, but that doesn’t matter. Pearl Jam never set out to make another Ten, as evidenced by its direct follow-up, Vs., and its even more bizarre sibling, Vitalogy. And that was a smart move for them, proving they were far more enlightening and rewarding than any radio hit.


    Still, that doesn’t discredit Ten in the slightest; if anything, it only adds to the album’s awe and mystery. It’s a diamond record, perfect in every sense of the word, and there is nothing the band, the fans, or the critics can do to take that away from them now. But really, who in their right mind would ever want to?


    The energy, the creativity, the emotions, and the power that this album contains feel so timeless, so removed from the clumsily dubbed grunge scene it’s often lumped in. There’s gravitas to each track, sharing more with flavorful ’70s rock than the cynical ’90s alternative sound, which is why we’ve come to prefer it to, say, Nevermind.

    Diamonds are forever, as the saying goes, and fools are those that keep looking for more. Thankfully, Pearl Jam weren’t fools and stopped mining immediately after. Instead, they looked elsewhere and became the eclectic, evolving outfit we know and celebrate today, but that never would have happened without Ten.

    — M.R.