Kevin Smith is brilliant. Well, sometimes. But you realize it when he makes you like Ben Affleck -- even if for a second. I know, I know. But this line out of Jay And Silent Bob Strike Back is so appropriate to this post, it simply must be repeated: "Well, look at these morose motherfuckers right here. Looks like somebody shit in their cereal...BONG." That line unequivocally summarizes Pearl Jam -- except there's no BONG. With the exception of Ten, every successive album is a tepid uninspired mess, a glow here, an ember there, and then, absolute dreck. Yield is no different, and about the only reason I chose to review this one over their other efforts is because all shit smells the same in a cesspool.
Starting with the best first is probably the wisest course because you may not get to the end of this review. Therefore, the album opener, "Brain Of J" is a great song. Such momentum, though, is squandered, as the album becomes this torpid lull of predictable so-so rock 'n' roll pudding. Despite "In Hiding" and "MFC" -- decent songs themselves -- the album embodies absolute worthlessness. "Pilate" is fundamentally the reason every human being alive -- of talent or not -- should learn to play any instrument simply to overshadow the ick that is this song. It's just pure drivel -- likewise, take your pain meds after "All Those Yesterdays" and "." and "Faithfull" and "Low Light" and "No Way." Interestingly enough, "Given To Fly" and "Do The Evolution" are actually better songs live than on the studio recording here, but these aren't those versions, so why I'm trying to be polite is, well, I just don't know. I just wish Eddie Vedder would decide whether he's Jim Morrison, Roger Daltrey or Neil Young. A very generous C-.
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