The end

I’m sad to say, but I did not like Back Spacer. That’s not the first time I don’t like a Pearl Jam album. Ok, grunge is dead, but the “sound”, no matter how it was labelled, no matter what demented effect it had in fashion and business (yeah, nothing to do with music…), no matter how dated it might seem, the sound itself was mind-blowing. I think that, to escape the “poser” culture around it, bands tried to run as far from it as they could. PJ was no exception.

As a “reborn” fan, I had the opportunity to go through the whole band’s discography about six years ago, and was a tad disappointed when I found out that sometimes only a couple of songs per album would make my heart jump. When “the Avocado” was released, I had just been to the first PJ concerts in my life, drenched in the emotion of the live experience. The album was a breath of fresh air, whole, furious, brave, breathtaking. Even the “bad songs” had their place in the story the album tells. Even the graphic design tells more than meets the eye (was I the only one to recognize the “singing head” of the Sandman universe?). I listened in tears, in ecstasy. Epiphany.

Well, life took me through other paths and all of a sudden there’s the new album. Listened once. Skipped a couple of songs after the first chords. Riot Act strikes back? Maybe I’m stuck in the past. Maybe I don’t understand evolution. Baby.

But then… Just Breathe. Ok, it’s one of those songs that, if ever played, will be one of Eddie’s solos, when the band is chilling backstage and he plays alone with the guitar and the harmonica. That would be all right, it would be in good company with other masterpieces like Dead Man Walking. Or maybe it’s one of those almost-boring-too-country-ish songs that Eddie writes sometimes. All right with me. But it’s not. It’s a gem. It’s beautiful. Moving. It slides through clichés like a surfboard through maverick waves.

And then… The End. Listened like a hundred times, for more than three hours in a row. Burst into tears. It’s one of the saddest songs I’ve ever listened to. It’s probably one the most beautiful songs Eddie has ever written. And the voice? I really like the way he lets the voice come out hoarse, sort of aspirated, in that almost impossible high pitch progression. That’s totally his own. “I’ll take the blame, but just the same, this is not me…” Was it the arrangement, strings and all, one might ask? Risky, to say the least; it could have turned into the corniest thing ever. But it has not. It adds to the mood of the song. It’s respectful. Many, many, many tears later, my favourite lines: “Before I disappear, whisper in my ear, give me something to echo in my unknown future’s ear.”

All right, I’ll give it a second listen. It might win me over. You know, Pearl Jam saved my life once. Quite literally. For that I’m forever grateful. I’ll love PJ forever, even though I don’t automatically love every single thing that they do.

So, please, do come back to play. I’ll be there, me and my 10C wristband, standing for 12, 13, 14 hours, without eating, without going to the toilet, grabbing the rail, on the right side of the audience. I’ll even take a nap every now and then, head on the rail; the “Polar Bear”, the security guy, will worry about me again, wondering if I’m passing out. I’ll be fine, me and my endless grin and my chart with my song list, when the band begins to play. And I’ll jump, and sing along, and dodge the elbows of those tall people on my head and ribs. I’ll duck when they take some guy out of the crowd over me, the “hole on the rail”. I’ll probably be “rail cushion” to someone again. The hunger, the thirst, the pain, will vanish at some point. I won’t mind the heat or the rain. And when the guys go backstage to rest, I’ll stare at the spotlight when Ed begins to play The End on the guitar, no fancy strings needed, more intimate before a crowd than he would be if he were playing at someone’s porch. And I’ll cry my eyes out. Cry with my eyes open, so I won’t miss a thing.