Pearl Jam - Backspacer (2009)

For those who know me, this statement will undoubtedly rip your flesh like weasels who had too much Buddy Holly and vodka. The last time Pearl Jam released a semi-decent album, I was a freshman in high school. (It was Vitalogy for those who don't know my age.) So I say with my rancorous cod-piece lodged squarely between my zoobies that I fully and eagerly intended on writing a Two Minutes Hate for this album and sadly cannot sate my inner Freudian wish-fulfillment fantasies. It's pretty good -- really. Part of my disdain for Pearl Jam for the last half portion of my life has been with their politics -- which is to say, their music oozed complete self-righteous seriousness, and the music fucking sucked. Like assfucker sucked. Like no better than Britney Spears sucked. Like you would rather watch Jack Bauer save Los Angeles from its 35th nuclear attack sucked. Read my previous two album reviews if you don't believe me, where the band found itself playing like they read the word torpor so many times on a piece of paper that it put them into one.

This album sounds like they had a ton of fun making it. It doesn't reek of self-seriousness and it doesn't sound tired, either. Amazing, right? I really dig the brevity as well (36 minutes or so). It kind of unfolds pretty quickly and then it's over. (Authorial interjection: Master Cianan, did I just hear you 3,000 miles away yelling, "Well, thank God for that!") I really like "Got Some" and "Supersonic," two fairly punk-like rockers and "Amongst The Waves," a nice sludgy ballad. "Just Breathe" may be my favorite song, and it'd probably surprise you to hear that it's actually just an acoustic love song with some strings -- it just sounds beautiful and I like it. So there. Of course, being the disaffected twaddling twit that I am who must find some fault with everything, I will say this: every Pearl Jam album (except for Ten) has at least one song that is so odious, so terrible, so toxic to the greater good of humanity that the band, the producers, the fans and any other associated party involved with the continued existence and preservation of that song should be violently reprimanded (myself included); and that song is "The Fixer" -- a most retarded example of what kind of music not to make. Otherwise, enjoy. B-

Pearl Jam - No Code (1996)

No más is more like it. No rhyme, no reason, no grunge. Fresh off the heels off its album de la decadence, Vitalogy (the last decent PJ album, in my opinion), our Seattle über-friends here decided that: no, they would not break up because (a) their singer shot himself in the face (Nirvana); (b) they simply didn't want to do it anymore (Soundgarden); or (c) their singer was a fucking junkie (AIC); and instead opted to (d) keep going, even though they were no longer relevant under the watchful eyes of "De Civitate Dei" and had sorely squandered what little originality they had by looting and pillaging from themselves. Понимаешь?

So, let's review it, shall we? Do you like childish repetition "Sometimes?" or find yourself questioning "Who You Are," or simply prefer to "Smile" and show off your glistening little zoobies? Or perhaps, you would rather strum a guitar so slowly that it always seem like you're in the "Present Tense" while telling everyone about "Mankind?" Oh, and when you sing "I'll be playing with my magazine / Using up my listerine / Like Ovaltine" -- I actually want to throw myself in the fucking ocean and drown to escape such egregious lyrical nonsense -- and I'm actually only a hop, skip and a jump away. "In My Tree" is perhaps the only great song (the bass and drums clinch it), while "Hail Hail" and "Red Mosquito" are pretty decent as well. "Lukin'" is short, in a funny kind of way; it doesn't go on long enough for me to hate it, so I sort of dig it otherwise. The rest is fucking hogwash. Total musical excreta. A reason to read How to Kill Yourself the Hemingway. Oh, oh, oh, I got a better one! Ever wonder why Sylvia Plath and Assia Wevill killed themselves by sticking their heads in the oven? Common belief says it was Ted Hughes and his incorrigible demands; but it was Pearl Jam. Really. D+

Pearl Jam - Yield (1998)

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-.