Reflections and lessons learned:
“There's also the slight possibility that Epic's people simply didn't hear Vedder's fucks and shits - or didn't want to. Before the record was finished, they complained that the singer's vocals weren't clear enough. ‘Some person at the record company… wanted the vocals turned up,' Vedder told Melody Maker. ‘He wanted people to understand exactly what I was singing. So I told him what [the song “Animal"] was about and he said, You're right. Let's leave the vocals as they are. Maybe we don't really want people to understand’”
I think I maybe bought the album Ten on a cassette for a fiver deal around the release time (although a price tag of £14 also springs to mind… a large amount for music and my meagre pocket money at the time)? I can’t remember the exact reasoning or attraction but I do remember falling in love with the whole package - the music; the lyrics, which felt so deep and soul touching; the band as a group and it’s individual parts; the mtv videos and interviews - I loved Pearl Jam in that wonderful teenage adoration way, harder than any other band before or since. I even managed to join the fabulously generous fan club ran from way over the world at the time, in Seattle - these people were who I aspired to live like, and the direction where I wanted to go. I collected all the magazine interviews and posters that I was able to afford, and had a vhs of all the snippets that I could record from off the telly, and can still quote lines and movements from these without consciously realising. On one of the posters (I think from Kerrang magazine), there had been a spelling error, and a result a friend called the idolistic/idealistic lead singer, Eddie Vending-machine. I laughed, as we all enjoyed a good name pun, but I was also partially offended on his behalf - yup, this infatuation ran deep… but the irony was, this wasn’t seemingly what they wanted. As a band they actually seemed more into the music over the celebrity and press. The other step by step idols from the time in Nirvana seemed to be partially enjoy playing parts of the ridiculousness of the media circus, and almost courted it at times, but my picked team were more complex and emotional. You probably wouldn’t understand them (present tense purposeful) like I did…
And then the notoriously difficult second album was released. Despite it being released quite quickly after the first, life was always changing fast at the time, so I bought this one on cd, possibly even with new Saturday job Woollies discount… and oh… ahh, this was different. This felt more like 70s rock with a modern political edge, at a time where I barely understood uk politics. Where had the raw emotion, growling youth and brown corduroy jacket gone? Had I liked them as an acceptable but rebellious gateway to adulthood, and now that it felt like I was getting there too, did I need someone new again for the ultimate rebellious feeling - breakers of moulds rather than converters to the already established? Even though I enjoyed the album, the moment did feel like it had passed a bit. Ironically I was skipping to the other end of adult life and could totally see myself as the elderly woman behind the counter in a small town - it was comforting in the era of potentially staying at home with a local boyfriend and a job in retail, but it wasn’t the adventure that I wanted, and not the album that I wanted to listen to over and over.
This book wonderfully analyses this strange album, the era around the change and changing Seattle backdrop, and tackles much more about the interaction between the band, the industry scrutiny and the path that they carefully tried to maintain themselves. If you enjoyed the musical era, this one is for you, and despite my first bookshop shelf searching “oh, I wish they had the book on ‘Ten’”, no, this actually was a great insight into the mid story. Insert own rearviewmirror gag here