First Appeared at The Music Box,
February 2003, Volume 10, #2
Written by John Metzger
As the early ’90s grunge-scene has faded from view, Pearl Jam has devolved to
embrace its roots as a punk-driven, classic rock-influenced ensemble. While its
arty inclinations and political motivations have sometimes distracted the band
from its otherwise superb music, the group never has failed to release anything
less than an excellent recording. As a result, Pearl Jam has been one of the
most consistent bands to emerge in the past decade.
Its seventh studio album Riot Act continues this phenomenal string of
recordings, and while it is better than Binaural, it’s not quite as solid
as Yield. Instead of wailing and screaming the lyrics as frontman Eddie
Vedder once did, he now delivers them with a world-weary dreaminess, despite
what’s going on around him. Right from the opening meditation-rock of Can’t
Keep, Vedder allows his voice to glide with an Eastern-mystic gracefulness
above the surrounding grind of guitar and drums. Likewise, on the punchy punk of
Save You, Vedder’s voice quivers with exhaustion before he finally
unleashes a few howls and yowls as drums pound and guitars churn wildly. In
actuality, this marriage of styles and energies works quite well, giving the
impression that Vedder is so battered, beaten, and beleaguered by the world that
he is about to become completely unglued.
Of course, that’s a rather amusing thought, given Vedder certainly has few of
the stresses that plague the average American family. Then again, he’s
continuously used his position in the limelight — sometimes to his own detriment
— to rail against authority and the status quo, often circumventing the
traditional label/band/fan arrangements in the process. On Riot Act, he
offers Bushleaguer — a spoken-word commentary full of frustration and
anger about America’s so-called leader — and the haunted Love Boat Captain
— a mournful song, on which the Roskilde Festival’s unnecessary death clatters
away within crunchy guitars and somber organ. "All you need is love," Vedder
chants during the fade-out, offering a knowingly idyllic solution to the world’s
problems.
Indeed, much of Riot Act is geared towards awakening a spiritual
revolution, one where love ultimately prevails and money no longer is king. "And
the young, they can lose hope ’cause they can’t see beyond today," sings Vedder
on Love Boat Captain, acknowledging the uphill struggle he faces in
trying to motivate his fans.
Nevertheless, Vedder perseveres. He chants, "Love is the tower and you’re the
key" on You Are, professes the evils of wealth on Green Disease,
and warns that "the haves be having more/yet still bored," on ½ Full.
Splashes of Jimi Hendrix, The Beatles, and Led Zeppelin drift about within each
musical strain, adding to the aura of peace and love that hovers with the songs.
It’s a noble cause, one for which compassion and understanding blast away at
fearful conservative thinking. "It’s a hopeless situation and I’m starting to
believe/That this hopeless situation is what I'm trying to achieve," he adds on
the concluding All or None, signaling that neither Vedder nor Pearl Jam
are anywhere close to giving up the fight, while urging anyone who will listen
to try to remain optimistic about the future.
For the record, Riot Act is not the boldest of musical statements from
a band that has made plenty of them. Instead, it draws from the finest elements
of the group’s previous outings and reconfigures them into something that is
equal parts familiar and fresh. This strategy worked remarkably well for the
band on Yield, and though it may be a bit formulaic to cut a similar path
through Riot Act, the truth of the matter is that it’s once again
successful.
