Mookie's Boys

TEN
8/27/1991

Born from the ashes of two beloved Seattle bands (Green River and Mother Love Bone), behold Pearl Jam. Relocated surfer boy Eddie Vedder on vocals, Stone Gossard and Mike McCready handling the guitars, Jeff Ament with the bass and goofy hats, and Dave Krusen forever the answer to a trivia question. The group played their first concert on 10/22/1990--ooh, so close!

"Once"--Vedder wrote a trilogy about a victim of incest-turned-serial killer. Interestingly, the second part is the one we hear first. Unspectacular, save for the singer's soon-ubiquitous yarling.

"Even Flow"--Melancholic as all hell. Imagine having the flu something horrible (no, even more horrible than that) and walking gingerly over to your bedroom window, pulling up the shades, and BAM--the taunting finger of the sun, right in your face.

Laudable as the rare song that tackles homelessness without coming off cloying or sanctimonious.

"Alive"--The first of the "Daddy left me Mommy screwed me so I kill people now" trilogy is frequently embraced as an inspirational song, which is only natural until you listen to the damned thing. In truth, the narrator finds his continued existence quite burdensome, every two heartbeats sounding out a hearty "fuck you." That's two straight songs played contrarily, you bastards.

Anyone who relates to "Alive" is hopefully referring to the chorus. Stone Gossard's one-take solo is justly venerated. Has he yet to apologize?

"Why Go"--What's more punk rock than talking about mental illness? In the moment, of the moment, until it becomes the moment. If the present is a gift you give yourself, the future is a gift you give everyone else.

"Black"--I'd prefer to dismiss "Black" as an empty power ballad. In truth, it's one of Pearl Jam's best tracks, in addition to one of their most beloved.

So why do I (currently) hate it?

"Black" has this bleak seven-note piano melody that never fails to tickle the chin of my darkest, stoutest demon. Those fingernails are too long for me to tolerate, lately. The prickles agitate my fragile frame, until I have no choice but to submit to my rages just to avoid collapsing under the weight of my sorrows.

Lost love, eh? All I hear is a lost life. Or shall I be less dramatic and say, misplaced.

Epic Records pushed hard for "Black" to be released as an official single, but the band adamantly refused, feeling some songs were too personal, too precious, to tarnish with a friggin' promo video. Nothing stopped radio, though, and "Black" remains the Pearl Jam mega-hit that never was.

"Jeremy"--Has all the nuance missing from "Alive," while vibrating with the same desire to be heard that plagued its anti-hero.

"Oceans"--If I had to pick one instrument to place in my living room…timpani drum.
Refer to "Oceans" for meditative exercises designed to make inhalations and exhalations indistinguishable from one another.

"Porch"--I have a theory: the phrase "I love you" is valid only when uttered outdoors, stone-faced and dry-eyed. Perish those cynical thoughts; in this world, we will cross paths with thousands of people, and look directly at maybe 15-20% of them. We are creatures ruled by our habits, and love does not change that. Love is serious business, and like most businesses, it will take several years to see profit. (And that's assuming you don't set the building on fire to collect insurance money.) The harder lovers work, the sweeter their play.

Thus, my theory. If you want the three largest little words in the English language to hold the weight their curves demand, test it out.

"Garden"--Earnest Ed, source of so much adoration and annihilation: "I don't question our existence/I just question our modern needs."

"Deep"--Basic icing, covered with hundreds and thousands. Tasty.

"Release"--Huge chorus. A blanket for my shivering shoulders that is every bit as comfy as it is warm.



Note the release date. Far from being coattail-clutchers, Pearl Jam actually beat Nirvana's second album to record stores by a full month. Ten had to grow on folk, however, so much so that while Nevermind is widely regarded as the best and most influential album from the grunge era, Ten is the highest-selling--thirteen million copies in America alone, as compared to a mere ten million for Nevermind.

For any album to go diamond is impressive. To do so while boasting a cover that makes the band members look like a melanin-deprived version of the "Fun Bunch" beggars belief.