| March 12, 2016 | |||||||||
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| Lyrics:
Sheets of empty canvas, untouched sheets of clay Ooh, and all I taught her was everything All the pictures had I take a walk outside, I’m surrounded by some kids at play And twisted thoughts that spin round my head All the pictures had
I know someday you’ll have a beautiful life Pearl Jam also released an expanded and remastered version of Ten, which is well worth the reinvestment. The remastering brings new life to a recording that I always thought was a bit too muddled—something that really was evident when listening on quality sound equipment: |
I remember the hot August weekend that my dearly departed best friend, Mark Reddin, came to my tiny Kokomo apartment with a CD in hand, saying, “You have to hear this.” Without asking—not that he needed to—he walked over to my CD player, put the disc into the changer cartridge (remember those?), and hit play. We then sat there drinking Miller Lite Ice (remember that?) and listened to the entire album. Ten was a game changer—for me, for the Seattle grunge scene, and for the music industry that was about to summarily execute the hair bands it was still signing at the time. There have been relatively few albums that from the first note to the last absolutely were life-changing. I remember wondering if there would be any other records like it. At the time, I didn’t know that I had just been introduced to grunge—but I didn’t have to wait long to learn that a bevy of grunge records were sweeping the country. Shortly after PJ’s Ten record, Nirvana’s Nevermind dropped, and I had my answer. It wasn’t long before I had Soundgarden’s Badmotorfinger and Alice In Chains’ Facelift CDs. It was if a giant curtain fell and a man in a top hat walked out to center stage and announced that the 1980s were over and that we had now just been introduced to the 1990s. Soon, my collection of 1980s music began gathering dust, and it wasn’t until the 2000s, when grunge heard its own death knell, that I began working my 1980s music back into my regular rotation. As we all know, like Soundgarden, Nirvana, and Alice In Chains, Pearl Jam hailed from rainy Seattle, and with them came a tidal wave of powerfully emotive, gritty, gravelly, and flannel-clad music that drove a stake right through the heart of the poppy, hairspray-lacquered, and spandex-squeezed sound of the 1980s. Black is one of my favorite songs ever recorded, and if this line doesn’t hit home, I don’t know what will:
Who among us hasn’t endured that one crushing heartbreak that in some ways, we’ll never be over? And that’s what Black is about. Of course, Pearl Jam is one of a scant handful of grunge acts to still be making music 25 years later. PJ’s sound has remained mostly consistent throughout that time and has always leaned in Eddie Vedder’s unique voice. PJ’s lineup has remained mostly steady, and the band still records new music and tours today. I had the good fortune to see them on their Vitalogy and Yield Tours, both of which were among the best live performances I’ve ever seen (and I have seen more than I can count). I still remember PJ opening the Vitalogy show in Indianapolis with Corduroy, and the audience at Deer Creek Music Center went appropriately insane. The waiting drove me mad….! Break out the flannel, my babies! Video: Pearl Jam rarely makes music videos, and to my knowledge, no official video was made for Black. I’ve included the audio track below and then a live version of the track.
Following is a live 1992 performance that was filmed as part of MTV’s Unplugged series.
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