Feeling Wider Than Awake: Review of Eddie Vedder's Earthling

Eddie Vedder has got to be tired of talking about death. Still, it seems like interviewers want to talk to him about little else. From his father’s passing to the tragic deaths and suicides of so many of his peers, most writers appear over-eager to ask why Eddie Vedder, is, remarkably, still alive.

 

So what does Eddie have to say?

A lot. And it’s hard not to take the opening track of his new solo album, Earthling, as an answer.

 

It’s a song that builds, in a playful, rhythmic, skin-prickling way, before swirling, rocketing into space, Eddie’s rich voice soaring in a hopeful refrain. We are, he tells us, Invincible … When we love.   

 

Eddie has the answer to the sometimes-trudging weight of life, and he’s here to share it with all of us. “Invincible” is a song about how love makes life not just possible, but breathtakingly beautiful.

 

Life can be unbearable, the song acknowledges. But then, here comes a wave, a joyous crescendo of music and metaphors, of oceans and cosmos. And just when it seems like the music might burst into resplendent beams of light, Eddie reminds you,

 

Who could ask for more?

 

And so begins Earthling, a sometimes-dark, sometimes-funny, gorgeous and powerful album that explores themes of lightness, love, longing, grief, and utter contentment.

 

Obviously, Eddie Vedder is no longer the aching, angry, angst-ridden rocker he was in the 90s. And yet, if you’ve kept up with him over the years, this transformation has been neither surprising nor sudden. This is the musician who’s kept tens of thousands of us rapt, night after night, at sold-out concerts in cities around the world. He’s sung about abuse, heartache, homelessness, suicide, and serial killers. But from the beginning, even his darkest lyrics have centered on themes of dignity, empathy, and compassion. His delivery is different now, but the messages are familiar.

 

Eddie is a master storyteller, and as usual, he seems to have sympathy for the characters in Earthling — even the troubled man in “Power of Right,” whom he describes as Scared / Living in fear / An itchy trigger finger / a clown in his ear. But his empathy remains ever-rooted with the underdog. That includes a fallen elephant in the jarring, angry “Good and Evil,” in which Eddie hopes a hunter gets what she deserves.

 

Earthling’s A-List collaborators have been written about elsewhere — Ringo Starr, Stevie Wonder, and Elton John, to name a few. Then there’s “Long Way,” a song that sounds so uncannily like Tom Petty, you may believe there was one more collaborator — dialing in from the heavens.

 

All in all, Earthling is an incredible album to rock out with, to take a deep dive with, to decipher its many puzzles and pieces. More than 30 years after the release of Pearl Jam’s first alum, Eddie Vedder is still delivering bellowing baritones, poetic lyrics, and absolutely outstanding music.

 

I take the line from “The Haves” to heart, when he promises:

 

I know we got / A lot of life, life to live yet.

 

I’ll trust you on that one, Eddie, and I’ll savor what’s yet to be. Thank you.

 

 

 

 

Guy Smiley and Here is Your Life

Recently, I desperately needed to be cheered up.

I called my friend V because he can make me laugh, and so he did, immediately, when he referred to my Beagle as my little "Guy Smiley."

And here is your Here is Your Life host, Guy Smiley!

Instead of rehashing the horrors of my day, which never helps as much as you think it will, V and I launched right into recalling every detail that we could about Guy Smiley, the muppet, and his Sesame Street game show, "This is Your Life."

I remembered that Guy Smiley always got caught inside the stage curtain as he made his way out to the camera, and he would flail around in that distinctly Muppety way until he burst out (An early Kramer?). I also remembered an episode in which a tender-hearted loaf of bread was brought onto the game show (under the guise of being delivered to be made into a club sandwich) so she could be reunited with long-lost friends.

"Loaf of bread, here is your life!!"

I went home and YouTubed it, and realized then that the writers of 1980's Sesame Street were out of their minds.

Such a thought never even occurred to me when I was little.

In that episode, a loaf of bread with long eyelashes arrives on the set of the game show and asks how many slices of herself will be needed.

But Guy Smiley surprises her by, instead, bringing out the baker who baked her. (The studio audience coos when the baker shows a picture of the bread in her formative state, just an "adorable little recipe.")

Guy Smiley then promises to reveal the loaf of bread's best friend, another loaf who once sat on a grocery store shelf beside her. (Loaf of bread winces in anguish when she remembers the day that someone purchased that neighboring loaf and took her away.)

Guy Smiley then produces that long lost loaf... sort of. That loaf of bread has since been turned into two sandwiches and two plates of French toast, which, inexplicably, now have their very own personalities and even speak French!

But the best part might be when Guy Smiley announces that the show will be providing the loaf of bread with...a charm bracelet...so she'll always remember the day!

What? That's nuts!

But I remember watching the loaf of bread's show when I was little, and taking it perfectly seriously. I also remember the episode in which the oak tree is reunited with the cloud who rained on him, and when Guy Smiley visits a museum to surprise a painting of a bowl of fruit, which has eyeballs and is overcome with emotion when the paintbrush who painted him shows up.

I wonder if Sesame Street --and these very shows-- contributed to my steadfast belief that all things have feelings. When I was little, I believed that everything had feelings, and I thought that everything longed to do what it was meant to do. This is how I formed irrational attachments, and wept when my parents traded in our old car (I was sure it was devastated to be sent away), and wanted to rescue every garage-sale stuffed animal. I'd feel sorry for every lost and lonely glove, who surely felt useless and humiliated without its mate. I was convinced my first bicycle felt abandoned when I outgrew it.

Today, I know that's absurd, but I still feel sorry when I, say, send one of my purses to the secondhand store. I wonder if it casts a sad glance back at my other purses and thinks, "But what did I do? Wasn't I pretty enough?" And I hope it has a nice life, with someone who likes it and takes it to lots of places.

See what you did to me, Guy Smiley?

.......................

In other news, here are my current favorite things:

Taking my dog everywhere. I'm going to be really, really sad when summer is over and I can no longer socialize by making my friends join me at parks, or restaurants, bars and coffee shops with patio seating. Right now, if you want to see me, you also see my Beagle.

I guess most people leave their dogs at home most of the time. My dog knows that unless I'm going to work, the sound of my keys jangling means that we're headed for adventure, and he gamely hops into my car's back seat. He even knows the sound of a Subaru being unlocked vs. the sound of any other kind of car.

He's up for anything, except staying home alone. And he is the most perfect, amiable little sidekick.

Let's go play!

Related: Food Trucks. The biggest summer food trend, especially for people with dogs, is getting delicious food out of the window of a truck! A different truck comes to my neighborhood every Monday and I am especially fond of the Pittsburgh Taco Truck, with its amazing avocado cream, and Oh My Grill, which serves gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches and dipping sauces.

I also love the crepe truck:

and I love that Porter can come along when I dine this way.

I would like to invent a salad truck, who would have a dazzling array of toppings on various lettuces. Things like chick peas, hard boiled eggs, avocado, artichokes, cheeses, slivered almonds, and homemade dressings.

Also, still, Pearl Jam, who played two wonderful shows in London, Ontario and Wrigley Field, Chicago, in July. I'll see those guys in Pittsburgh in October for a long-awaited hometown show.

The 4 Ingredients That Will Always Make Me Fall in Love with a Piece of Music

All of my favorite music has at least one of these four ingredients.

1. Lyrics that tell a story.
I think the best songs have some point to them besides being catchy. Don't give me a cheesy love song (or if you're going to, at least make me laugh). Sing me a story with characters, plots, and messages.

I look for lyrics that illuminate my own feelings. I'll award bonus points to songs that rally me, inspire me, pull me up, dust me off or convince me that I'm going to be okay.

When my (lousy) boyfriend of 11 years moved out, I felt confused and conflicted, but I played the subtly happy song "Tears Dry on Their Own" and wrote a music video in my head, starring me twirling around in my newly empty, sun-kissed apartment, finally unburdened with all the cobwebs of our misspent decade.  I appreciated how Amy Winehouse gave a name to the feeling of "inevitable withdrawal." I didn't love my ex anymore, but I still had to bear the withdrawal of our breakup as I learned how to be alone for the first time as an adult.

When Amy sings, "He walks away; the sun goes down," I don't picture darkness but rather the glorious glow of a blazing sunset.

Another example: One of the greatest stories I know is about a human being who is Given to Fly.  Here's what Eddie Vedder says about that beautiful song:

"[I imagined the song as] a 20-page cardboard children's book with a line on each page and a picture to go with it. It's a fable, that's all. The music almost gives you this feeling of flight, and I really love singing the part at the end, which is all about rising above anybody's comments about what you do and still giving your love away. You know? Not becoming bitter and reclusive, not condemning the whole world because of the actions of a few."

2. Grungy guitars that rock out.
I can't resist them. I feel them in my belly. They make me want to burst into a run. They make me want to shrug off my last board meeting and my last deadline and joyfully headbang like the mammal I am.  I can appreciate the perfectly-executed licks of a classical guitar song, but I'm not sure how long I could sit and watch someone coax them out. I want to watch a person grab their guitar and shred it like they're purging the demons within.

I know it's been overplayed, but to this day, I can't fathom how someone can hear the opening chords of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and not emphatically agree that the song is a cosmic gift from the universe. It's just perfect. Whether they were ready for it or not, something otherworldly just clicked the day Nirvana came up with that one.

Same thing, right here:

3. Beautiful vocals.
This one seems too easy but, oh well. I'll bliss out to Rob Zombie for Reason #2 but give me Eddie Vedder's soaring, honeyed baritone to soothe my troubled heart. It hits me like a Klonopin right in my soul.



4. Music that has heart.
I need to feel like music is sincere, like it was born because the artist had to write it whether anyone would like it or not. I like music that is confessed. I like songs that purge anguish as a means to finding light.

I think that's why I like Jill Sobule so much. I go see her every time she comes to town, and Jill has a way of making the entire room fall in love with her. She's cute and funny, yes, but also, Jill's heart is present in every one of her songs.

I always felt like Kurt Cobain's lyrics, as flippant and bitter as they seemed on the surface, were painfully self-aware and of brimming with heart.

.........................................

A piece of music doesn't have to have all of these ingredients, but if I love it, chances are it will have at least one.

Pearl Jam corners the market with all four, which is why seeing them live takes me to staggering heights of sheer bliss.

I'm going to close with a song that has Ingredients #1, #3 and #4. This is a song that put four whole years into perspective for me, and makes me cry every single time.

Half of me is ocean, half of me is sky

I'm pretty sure that my iPod has the uncanny ability to choose which song I need to hear. Not necessarily what I think I want to hear. It will always shuffle to a song with a lesson or lyric that I need to apply to my day. My iPod will choose the right--yet seemingly random--song to cheer me up, console me, or rally me. It will dust off songs I don't even remember downloading. It will tuck my hair behind my ear and say, "Sssh, it's alright. You're okay. Let me put it this way...." 

Sometimes you're happy
Sometimes you cry
Half of me is ocean
Half of me is sky

But you got a heart so big
It could crush this town
And i can't hold out forever
Even walls fall down

Here's to all the souls with the crushingly big hearts. :)

...

My big dumb heart is feeling pretty happy today, though. As we all know, I had my heart broken in December--yes, blah, blah, blah.

I fell apart--not so much over the guy, who wasn't that attractive, fun or even nice--but more over the sudden realization that I didn't get the life I wanted.  And I thought I deserved it. I'm nice, dammit. I work, so hard, for a non-profit. I'm a good daughter and a good friend. Bitchier and dumber and boring-er girls than me are married and have cute babies, so how much longer am I supposed to wait? And most of all, why?! What did I do wrong?

But today, as I walked my impossibly cute dog down my beautiful city street, I got to thinking of all the things that I do have. I love my parents, who are both still alive and love me back. I love my friends, and my gorgeous apartment (which is freshly scrubbed and sparkling so that my dog walker will be tricked into thinking I'm a good housekeeper). I love my cat and dog, my clothes, especially my new purple Kate Spade jeans, and the fact that I can buy myself Kate Spade jeans when not too long ago, I had to suffer till payday just to replace a dingy sponge.

And every bad or beautiful moment in life is just a snapshot in time. Anything could change in a moment. So I'm not going to lament this lovely little slice of my life. This is a good life. It's not exactly the one I pictured, but it's really not bad.

Speaking of good things, these are a few of my favorite things today:

Holy crap, kneesocks. This morning I was feeling pretty good, and then I put this outfit together and suddenly I felt great. I wanted to go feel great everywhere, with other people.

Also, I'm always too hot, so kneesocks have a perfect cool-air zone right across the knees. 

My new Beagle, and there are two things I want to say about that. One is that he discovered a tennis ball for the first time tonight, and he even figured out how to play with it by himself! He'd toss the ball with his mouth, merrily chase after it, pounce on it, and repeat.

Also, I love taking my dog for walks in the morning. I didn't realize how refreshing it would be to plunge from my cozy bed into the crisp morning and explore my town with him. I love looking at the houses, giving my brain some oxygen, watching the season change and seeing his regal Beagle butt wiggle down the street. All these cliche things I've been saying all these years as a PR person for pet adoption are true. Those little creatures will get you out of bed and you will like it. 

Also... trying to get Pearl Jam's attention via Instagram. A super-fun thing about social media is being just a couple shout-outs away from your idols. I keep tagging Pearl Jam under the hopeful delusion that they'll be so taken with my photography, they'll ask me to come on stage and photograph their show in Chicago this summer.

I wish I was being sarcastic. The thing about being a big-hearted girl is that we are rarely sarcastic. We say what we mean. In other words, I'm really waiting for this to happen.

"They're just jealous" and other mom-isms

My Mom: [listing reasons why I'm a great catch] ...you're successful, you're funny...
Me: Some people think I'm not funny, Mom.
My Mom: Yeah? Some people are assholes.

My mom is the kind of mom I can never solicit advice from, unless I'm actually fishing for the answer "They're just jealous." As in, "Someone was mean to you? They're just jealous." My mom has a hearty bias--one in which I am adorable, clever and always perfectly lovable. It's sweet of her.

My mom is the best kind of mom. For one, she's super competent. When I was little, I felt bad for the kids whose moms seemed scatterbrained. My mom was always on top of everything--sewing the best Halloween costume in my class, delivering me to classmates' birthday parties with a meticulously wrapped present in hand, or even showing up at my school with the lunch I didn't even realize I had forgotten on the kitchen counter. My mom could cut my hair, fix my toys and find the things I lost.

I still count on her competence, like when we went to Montreal together and my mom figured out how to ride the indecipherable metro system even though it was all in French. My mom doesn't speak French. She's just good to have around.

My mom is a personal chef, which is the perfect job for someone who's skilled as well as warm and loving. She loves to feed people, which is wonderful when you're 32 and survive on Trader Joe's. Whenever I go to her house, she puts a plate of food in my hand, brings me a sweater and asks me all about my day.

She's also so much fun to be around.

My mom in Calgary, ready to pounce on 7th row seats for Pearl Jam.
We followed Pearl Jam's 2011 Canadian tour together because she is my favorite.

My mom lost her mom to cancer when she was very young. I think that awful fact granted me a very early understanding that moms are impermanent.

I can't imagine what my life would be like without my mom--so generous with her food and affection, so eager to accompany me on adventures, so tirelessly willing to hear about my every irritation, and so subtly funny.

I appreciate her every damn day.

Happy New Year; I'm Subtle

Today my dear friend Suaz gave me a Pee-wee Herman clutch and also a pin that says "Ask Me About My Favorite Band," because she knows me very, very well. (And also because she knows I'll wear them without a trace of irony.)

I posted this photo on Facebook, and as a result one of my friends inadvertently ended up asking me about my favorite band. 

This prompted me, of course, to describe the way Eddie Vedder tosses the guitar solo to Mike McCready when it's time to shred the song "Even Flow" at a Pearl Jam concert. Mike will go crazy while Eddie steps to the side of the stage, drinks wine, dances, and offers demure waves to his fans. Then, Mike and his guitar will --tantalizingly, I assure you-- creep back into the chorus, slowly luring Eddie back into the song. Eddie will then do one of two things: he will either slink back across the stage and take the mic, or, he will linger, and then make a mad dash at the last possible second before the chorus takes off. If Eddie's late to the mic, or even if he's not, the fans know that the next verse is theirs, and the crowd explodes: EVEN FLO-O. THOUGHTS ARRIVE LIKE BUTTER-FLIES. 

It is a reliable ritual and we Pearl Jam fan club members eat it right up. 

(See also: "I love Eddie Vedder With All My Freaking Heart.")

But in actual news:

Today was a huge day at work. We held a rescue and pulled 27 dogs and 7 cats from death row at local animal control facilities. My favorite moment was when this dog, Rollo, stepped into our vestibule. It's normal for rescued pets to be thoroughly spooked when they get to the shelter, but Rollo was like, "How you doin'?" He just totally owned it. 

"Pleased to be here, what's up?"

And now for my shameful New Years Eve ritual. I work in PR and thanks to this annual rescue, I spend my New Years Eves exhausted, wine glass in hand and glued to the news, waiting to see myself.

There we go.

Yes, I did take pictures of my TV.