I’ll do my best to spare you the shallow and utterly predictable analysis of the long and storied history of Pearl Jam and the forces both internal and external that brought them here, but after nine studio LPs, bucketloads of B-sides and innumerable live recordings available to buy, it’s really, really hard not to do a little reminiscin’ and comparin’. After all, they do lay claim to two seemingly impossible points of pride in tandem—they have an obsessive cult of fans that “get them” the way the mainstream doesn’t and they were inarguably the biggest rock band of the 90s. But their story’s just not interesting enough to outsiders for so much time spent in the studio and on the road—it would be the blandest Behind the Music ever aired (or is that show off the air now?). Where are the bandmate smackdowns? The drug overdoses? The run-ins with the law? The ill-fated experiment with disco music? Oh wait, they’re just a rock band, as if that’s somehow an insult. Sure, they’re a politically active one with a message, but all the bullshit that clutters up even the greatest acts in pop music history just isn’t there.
As already stated, Backspacer is Pearl Jam’s ninth album, not too shabby for a group that has outlived most of the bands inspired by the bands that ripped them off. And as is the case with most acts hovering around (or surpassing) twenty years in the biz, I’m sure you’ll read a lot of “best album since…” quotes in the reviews. Here’s mine: Best album since Pearl Jam. With all of the expectations and the back catalogue to comb through, it’s virtually impossible to judge any “latest” Pearl Jam record. Every album since Vitalogy has been either a grower or a shrinker: either it gets better with time or it turns up at the bottom of the PJ CD pile for lack of rotation. No gut reaction has been accurate, and so by saying that this might be the venerable group’s least impressive collection yet, I acknowledge that I could very well be dead wrong. I have a nagging suspicion, though, that any change in opinion will be gradual and slim.
It’s not that I long for the early days; it’s that about a third of these songs are awfully ordinary. There’s not a single embarrassing misstep, and considering its brief running time (clocking in under thirty-seven minutes, it’s the band’s shortest to date), it doesn’t get a chance to run out of steam. But they’ve recorded much better speedy rockers and penned more moving ballads—the biggest problem with Backspacer is that too little lies in between, and the one or two that do (“Force of Nature,” “Amongst the Waves”) carries the same drawback as the most recent disc from another rock mainstay from the 90s (Foo Fighters): too tame and lifeless.
Much will be made, I’m sure, about the lightening of mood in the band’s repertoire, the reasoning doubtlessly to be gestured in the direction of the White House and, more than the man who’s there now, the man who’s no longer in charge. Without the sorrow and rage that has fueled them since the first days, they sound more carefree and effortless than ever. Unfortunately, Pearl Jam was (and, in some ways, still is) a grunge band, and when grunge bands don’t feed and fester in discontent, they end up sounding like, say, the Gin Blossoms. If this makes me seem like someone who can’t close the door on the past, maybe that’s accurate to some degree, but giving up on the guy “born on third, [thought] he got a triple” has exposed some faintly generic riffage without the railing to pin it to and Ed Vedder’s force of nature snarl has been tempered to a pleasant, road warrior croon.
Early word suggested that this was supposed to be PJ’s “new wave” album; frankly, Riot Act, with “Green Disease” and “You Are,” was closer. Most of it is composed of punk-ish numbers and slow, pop tunes, but very little of the fusion that made New Wave. “Gonna See My Friend” is in the same league as other album openers like “Brain of J” and “Breakerfall”—spry, kind of catchy, but a little underwhelming. The first part of the riff goes back further than their usual 70s rock reference points to the pioneering chords of the Chuck Berrys of the world; it can’t live up to that brief thrill (and giddy band performance) as it quickly settles into a melody that almost dips to perfunctory. “Supersonic” borrows from the Buzzcocks playbook (without the obvious but lovable romantic angst); catchy and tidy enough under three minutes, it’s just as unexceptional but fun as “Friend.” The closest they come to herky-jerky pop and speedy rock combined are the two best (and catchiest) rocking cuts, “The Fixer” and “Got Some.” On the latter, Vedder sings, “Turn it up, set if off/Before it’s gone/Let’s everybody carry on…Come on, let’s go/I got some if you need it,” Simple and energetic, at least it avoids some of the clunky and repetitive complaining that he’s occasionally responsible for.
On the mellow end, the less they sound like the old Pearl Jam, the better. The two folksy cuts with orchestral additions (“Just Breathe,” “The End”) both rank among the album’s best numbers. The latter is surprisingly poignant as a man makes peace and says goodbye to his wife as he passes away. And “Just Breathe” is just a tender love song (a Pearl Jam tune you can make out to?), with a country/folk melody leavened by, again, strings. Both of these highlights sound like extensions from Vedder’s soundtrack to Into the Wild, and they stack up favorably. The stomping, mid-tempo piano rocker “Unknown Thought” and the staggered momentum of “Speed of Life” are less successful—they have no place in a honky tonk, and I kept waiting for “Life” to burst into “Inside Job” (deriving a chord progression from just one album back is either subconsciously accidental or depressingly lazy).
With hit-or-miss being the name of the game, I suppose the album title is appropriate—not only do they delete the disgust of the Bush years, but they also cut out a lot of the passion that fueled their fire. Veterans are afforded more rope (and they’re still years from inefficient Stones retreads), but for a band that’s supposed to be having such a good time, there’s not a lot of infectious cheer to go around. Somehow, they were more entertaining when they bitched about the country’s misery. It’s not the catharsis I was hoping for; just a barely above average rock record of scattered appeal. Should it improve over time, I’ll be the first to admit it, but the rejuvenation of their soul offers little inspiration right now outside of their own circle.
"Backspacer" is on sale September 20, 2009 from Monkeywrench.
