Showing posts with label Pearl Jam. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pearl Jam. Show all posts

Mar 8, 2012

Remember when Eddie Vedder wrote on his arm?

This is the first time in 3 years have I re-posted something that wasn't mine or a guest post on my blog, but I came across this and I was both moved by his words and also infuriated that this is STILL a fucking issue that influences government debates and elections. This is not a good thing, America! More over, this was written 20 YEARS AGO by a man you may have heard of - Eddie Vedder? Ahem. 

It could have been written yesterday... and I couldn't have said it any better myself, so I won't even try. I feel strongly that it needed to be aired out for another read.

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November 1992 Spin Magazine
'Reclamation'
by Eddie Vedder

Pearl Jam's Eddie Vedder explains why a woman's right to choose is more than just a women's issue.

Glasgow, Scotland. It's cold outside. I'm thinking about a problem. One group of people trying to force their beliefs on others, based on religion. And it seems as though we're regressing.

Above, a helicopter flies by. If it continues on its course, it will shortly be over Ireland, where as of this writing, the powers that be are deciding if a 14-year-old girl who was raped by the father of one of her friends should be allowed to leave for Britain to obtain an abortion. She's been ordered not to leave the country for nine months. Fourteen years old. Raped. The issue of an unborn fetus takes on more importance than the fact that the rapist walks free.

Extreme, but this is a place where the church influences the government. And when I think of the movements concerning abortion in the United States, it definitely seems as though we're regressing.

"My body's nobody's body but mine...
You run your own body, let me run mine."

At the University of San Diego a few years ago, pro-lifers gathered, while pro-choicers chanted the above. Sides clashed and tension ran high. A banner equating pro-choice ideology with Nazism and Hitler was displayed. "Baby Killers," a little red stop sign said -- a sign held by a well-dressed 3-year-old who sat atop the shoulders of his upper-middle class father. The kid looked confused and frightened. The ominous presence of armed police on horseback would be enough to upset anyone.

And I wondered how this child got pulled into this? I wondered how any of us got pulled into this. The fact is that those people handing down decisions on the abortion issue are not the ones who will have to live or die by it.

Ten years old. That's the age my child would have been. And I would not be here in Glasgow. I wouldn't be in this band or traveling. And I wouldn't have seen the liberal ways in which other countries we have visited deal with this issue. I wouldn't have been asked to write this piece. The fact that I've been through it on all levels is the only reason I accepted.

Perhaps I'll have a child in the future, when I can provide properly. Who knows. But as individuals in this "free" country, we must have the right to choose when that time is right. A couple -- perhaps 15 or 16 years old, maybe 10 years older -- is faced with an unwanted pregnancy; it makes no difference if there is no means of support. They're questioning whether they can provide a proper climate in which to raise a child. A healthy question for both them and society itself. Yeah, there are programs to assist. Welfare and health programs that are constant victims of cutbacks. The child can sit in severely overcrowded classrooms and be taught by underpaid teachers.

A right to a healthy future should be the consideration.

Operation Rescue? The point being the rescue of a nonentity, a zygote. Perhaps the rescue of a young woman in crisis would be more in order. Instead, combat lines are drawn at clinics, and women must be escorted through trenches, which only adds to their trauma. This is not a game. This is not a religious pep rally. This is a woman's future. Roe vs. Wade was decided 19 years ago and the fact that a well-organized group has come close to overturning it is raw proof that we do live in a democracy. But also the reason that any opposition must be equally as vocal. You go to school in Normal, Illinois? Collegetown, U.S.A.? Shout it out. There are people wary of the strength that young voters possess. Prove them right. Decide on the issues and vote -- male or female -- for this is not just a women's issue. It's human rights. If it were a man's body and it was his destiny we were deciding there would be no issue. Not in today's male dominated society.



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Source: The Pearl Jam Reference Library

Sep 19, 2011

She Once Believed

During my February is Music Month, I had reminisced on how Pearl Jam have been and will always be my favorite band of all time. I'll admit that I don't necessarily listen to them a lot these days, but when a goodie comes on the radio, I always have to crank it.

Such good music; 
such great memories forever intertwined with that music.

I had explained how seeing them perform live had me experiencing an uncontrollable reaction of breaking down into tears from a song. Black, to be more precise. A reaction I had previously thought was only experienced by crazed girls chasing after boy bands. I was wrong. I got it then -- I get it now.

So now it's come that time again that they are touring, but it's not just any tour - it's the 20th Anniversary of Ten. How fucking old do I feel? Well... as it turned out, about as old as everyone else at the concert! Not a single hormonal pre-teen in sight! It was bliss. (Especially after attempting to recover from the horrors experienced at the Katy Perry concert.)

I was looking forward to hearing all  the songs that make my lady bits reverberate, but once again, I was taken by surprise. The opening cords of Nothingman began to play. Out of nowhere, all the little hairs at the back of my neck prickled. Next, there was the pause... wait for it... and then he cried out...
She once believed...in every story he had to tell...
One day she stiffened...took the other side...

And I was done. Tears. Like a baby. Happy tears. Streaming down my face.
I was even doing bottom-of-the-lip quivers. What the hell, dammit!

What more can I say - except for that even after twenty years, that man's voice and words can touch me in places like no one else. I'd easily consider me and Eddie's relationship the best I've ever had :)

Feb 2, 2011

Sheets of Empty Canvas

I’m sure we’ve all seen the footage of hordes of screaming and crying girls all trying to catch a glimpse of their favourite heart-throbs whether it was The Beatles, Elvis, New Kids on the Block, and most recently Justin Bieber. I had often watched in utter bewilderment while these girls would gyrate up and down while streams of tears roll down their faces... and not just one... but hundreds of them! No wonder female hysteria was seen as a mental illness or even demonic possession a couple centuries ago – it is a bit crazy to witness. I was always the first to say, “Stupid girls!” whenever they aired the mobs of wailing teens at the latest concert or signing appearance – and then it happened – I had to eat my own words.

It was grade 12 and I had finally the opportunity to see Pearl Jam, my favourite band, perform live for the first time. They had been around for the better part of a decade by now, but due to one schedule conflict or another, I was never able to see them until that year; I was definitely excited, but I was still able to contain my bodily functions.

During the opening acts, I was just impatient. I understand how hard it must be for smaller acts to open for big names, but really? Screw them! Bring on Eddie. It was a festival-type concert and it already had been a long afternoon. It was about 35degrees in the shade – which meant it was even hotter for all of us grunge freaks that were wearing cargo pants, boots, black t-shirts and plaid. I had even turned down copious offers of the various smokable herbs that were going around – I wanted to have my wits about me when Eddie arrived.

Finally, the roadies were finished swapping over the stage and the lights went down. When they came on stage, I got a rush of adrenaline through me that erupted in a “Whhaaaaaaoooooooooooo!” OK, so that was normal. Most people were doing that anyway and it wasn’t like this was my first concert; the “Whhaaaoooo” yelp was pretty standard and I usually sounded like Harvey Fierstein by the end of a gig. It was like the culmination of the last 8 years of myself adoring the music of this band was FINALLY being witnessed live; it was euphoric, but that’s not quite the moment that changed it all for me.

About 6 songs into the set it happened... the all-too-well-known melodious twangs of that single guitar begun and everyone went bananas... and I was frozen. My favourite song had begun to play: Black. My heart was racing, goose-bumps prickled over my entire body, and then something completely indescribable came over me when those first lyrics flowed from Eddie’s mouth:

Sheets of empty canvas, untouched sheets of clay
Were laid spread out before me as her body once did.


The sensation grew and grew and bubbled to its climax – and I started to cry! Not just a tear in the corner of my eye either – it was a full-out gasping for air, sniffling, weeping, snot-producing sob! Even I had no idea that the music was able to affect me that strongly. My friends couldn't help but notice and had to comment, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you crying? Ha, ha. You’re a freak!” Yes, yes, thank you all for your understanding – but I really didn’t care. I was so immersed by the song that I just wanted to hold on to that moment for as long as possible, so I kept crying my happy tears. If that song was a tangible thing, I wanted to crawl inside it and live there.

So, yes, although I still maintain that many of those crazed girls that chase after their favourite heart-throb du jour are ridiculous, I gained a deeper level of understanding that day as to how someone or something can overwhelm us to the point that we lose control of ourselves. I just think that it is up to us to harness it back a bit on the psycho-meter. As for me, this ‘Black’ incident will always be my top most music-related memory that gave me a profoundly special moment – just between me and Eddie Vedder – everyone else in the universe disappeared.