Can’t Find a Better Band

Pearl Jam’s debut album Ten turns 30 years old this August. I turn 41 in two days. As commonly happens, another turn around the sun as brought with it much retrospection. A natural taking of stock. To deal with the bizarre fact of being not just 40 but now - in my 40s - I have returned to the comforts of my youth. And nothing has been as been more comfortable, more there for me through the decades as Pearl Jam.

In order to fend off the worst feelings and fears of aging, instead of bemoaning, I’m going to celebrate age. Not my own, of course. I’m not ready for that. I’m going to celebrate the music I love. Music that, like a good wine, gets better and better with age.

Beginning next week I’m going to do a series on Pearl Jam. I’ll go album by album. It’ll be an extension of my ‘Not A Review’ series. I’ll share my thoughts on the work as well as memories and personal experiences surrounding each release. In this way, I can look back with wonder rather than terror. To embarrass myself and make you, dear reader, cringe I’ll just say that it’s going to be an. . . “all encompassing trip.”

The first piece will drop next week.