Pearl Jam’s career has been a remarkable one. At one time derided for the grandstanding ambition of their hulking debut, Ten, despite the presence of the band’s various members on the Seattle scene for years previous, the band more than made good on the promise of those early anthems, exploring an ever widening selection of sonic landscapes that ranged from frantic punk (Lukin, Spin The Black Circle) to extended progressive workouts (Nothing As It Seems) via showstopping ballads (Nothing Man, Betterman) and taut, Neil Young-esque rockers (Worldwide Suicide). Possessed of the uncanny ability to simultaneously adopt new forms, without ever sacrificing the core Pearl Jam Sound, the consistent quality of the band’s albums means that their legions of fans are incapable of agreeing upon their finest moment (a choice that is, more often than not, dictated by the listener’s first contact with the band); although the shadow of Ten, with its monstrous sales figures, often overshadows the rest of the catalogue, at least in commercial terms.
It has been seven long years since the excellent Lightning Bolt (one of only two albums released during the Obama years) and much has changed since that record was released. For a socially conscious band (whose Riot Act featured the stinging Bu$hleaguer), the return of a right wing, anti-globalist discourse characterised by the likes of Trump and Johnson, has provided the backdrop for a darker set of songs and the cover art, depicting a collapsing ice shelf, provided a mirror (even before the pandemic threw such things into sharper relief), to the unsustainable damage an uncaring, materialistic society has been wreaking, both upon nature and upon itself.
Opening with taut rocker Who Ever Said, there’s a feeling that Pearl Jam are fully engaged, and as Eddie’s snarling vocal is unleashed, the band hit on their catchiest track since the aforementioned Worldwide Suicide. With a suitably punkish mix courtesy of Josh Evans, Eddie’s assertion that “all the answers will be found in the mistakes that we have made” manages to be both downbeat and hopeful at the same time, even if the narcissism of modern society is laid bare in the follow up line “It takes a village but don’t take mine”. Following closely on the heels of the raucous opener, Matt Cameron’s tough beat leads us into arty rocker Superblood Wolfmoon, another track that sits at the harder end of the Pearl Jam spectrum, Eddie delivering a vocal that rages against the post-punk dance of the guitars. Harking back to Riot Act’s You Are, the wiry Dance Of The Clairvoyants is another track that emphasises a post-punk approach, with sparse arrangements wrapped around Eddie’s rich vocal tones. A looping, ever-evolving track, it’s an album highlight, and yet it still pales in comparison to the awesome, sinewy Quick Escape. Built around Jeff Ament’s sanguine bass, the band whip up quite a storm, Eddie’s distorted vocal on the verse giving way to an effortlessly addictive chorus that shows Pearl Jam have lost none of their ability when it comes to engaging the masses. In contrast to the fire of the preceding songs, the echoing, glacial beauty of Alright is as lovely a song as the band have ever penned. Subtle, yet emotionally charged, Alright takes its time to unwind, before Seven O’ Clock rounds out the first side. Superficially a simple enough ballad, it sees the band exploring a post-rock palette of echoing sounds before flinging a mellotron into the mix as the whole thing skews off its axis and lands somewhere between the progressive pastures of vintage Genesis and early U2.
Opening up the second half of the record, droning strings give way to the fiery Never Destination, another punky blast that sees Eddie firing out syllables like bullets, delivering a nervy, wired performance that takes us all the way back to Yield and Do The Evolution. The band keep things running at a ferocious pace with Take The Long Way, a crunchy piece, written by Matt Cameron, that sits somewhere between the Mac’s Tusk and Talking Heads as stabs of guitar filter across frenetic percussion before giving way to the sort of extended solo that drove Even Flow in the live arena. As a result, the slightly twee shuffle of Buckle Up (written entirely by Stone Gossard), is something of a surprise, the deeply personal nature of the lyrics speaking of hospitalisation and discomfort even as the music ripples with gentle melancholy. It paves the way for the calm of Eddie’s Comes Then Goes – the sort of simple acoustic track that only a band of Pearl Jam’s stature could get away with in the middle of a studio album. Largely unadorned, save for Eddie’s trademark harmonies, it’s a lovely song that feels both vulnerable and honest in its arrangement, making the years since Ten exploded into mainstream consciences scatter and fade into nothingness. With the album reaching its conclusion, Retrograde pretty much epitomises the Pearl Jam ballad. A mid-tempo outing that seems to exist in an atmospheric haze, it suddenly takes a step into progressive territory in its final third, as Eddie’s voice drifts into a cloud of heavily distorted guitar and echoing keys. It leaves River Cross to see the album out. Fueled by Eddie’s Pump Organ, it sits somewhere between Neil Young and Peter Gabriel (think Talk To Me) in the chain of inspiration, and it proves to be an enigmatic, poignant ending to a vital and enduring album.
Pearl Jam have always embraced a willfully eclectic sound that has ensured their longevity and, with Gigaton, they’ve expanded their palette once again, drawing upon the post-punk of Talking Heads and Discipline-era King Crimson to deliver an album that is surprisingly forthright across much of its run time. Despite sitting at just under an hour in length, Gigaton proves to be remarkably compact, keeping the listener engaged with its ever-changing hues and passing by in what feels like a fraction of its actual length. Steadfastly refusing to be beaten down, despite the darkness that abounds, Pearl Jam continue to transcend the expectation that arena bands are unapproachable, and Gigaton is an exceptional album that provides the listener with comfort despite the difficult times in which we live. 9.5
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