Pearl Jam and Neil Young at Polo Field June 24, 1995.
PEARL JAM DISPATCH FROM THE FIELD #1
ATN special correspondent Michael Goldberg reports: 11:42 AM. Pearl Jam's
Monkey Wrench radio (88.1 FM) is blasting out Seattle punk. "Live 105 say
they are broadcasting live from the Pearl Jam show," says the DJ. "They
are nothing but a bunch of motherfucking liers."
A skull and crossbones pirates flag is blowing in the wind above the
white sound tent located on the Polo Field in San Francisco where the
show will begin shortly.
It is an amazing site, watching fans streaming onto the Polo Field
until every square inch is covered with people. The crowd is,
naturally, young. Lots of guys with no shirts; lots of women in
bikinis. Lots of tattoos, like the one of a dragon on the guy sitting
about 6 yards away from me. Backwards baseball hats, shaved heads, a
woman with a t-shirt that reads: "Birth School Metallica Death." A guy
with "O. J.'s Guilty" written across his chest.
It is an amazingly goodnatured, friendly crowd. Strangers striking up
conversations everywhere.
Scalpers were having a hell of a time selling their Pearl Jam tickets,
which I was happy to see. Apparently several 1000 tickets had been
held back for the purpose of selling on the day of the show, thus
killing the demand for scalped tickets. Cool.
PEARL JAM DISPATCH FROM THE FIELD #3
ATN special correspondent Michael Goldberg reports: 2:05 PM. Now what transpired
next is beyond weird. Pearl Jam took the stage. Eddie wearing a grey t-shirt
and brown pants looked OK. They went right into "Last Exit." They were
rockin' like crazy. It was as if electricity was shooting off the stage,
like wave upon wave of the loudest noise I'd ever heard. The band churning
up there like a fuckin' rock 'n' roll machine. On the field, the moshers
were kickin' in, building up some steam, but nothing out of control. And
from my vantage point, maybe a 100 years from the stage, seemed like I
had nothing to worry about. [Pearl Jam-4] Sure, people were crowding past.
It was sardines-ville. The roomy area where I'd been sitting on the grass
earlier was gone. But like I said, nothing out of control. All of a sudden,
the band began "Spin the Black Circle" and all hell broke loose. Somehow,
a new mosh pit created itself right where I was standing! Just in the nick
of time I grabbed up the bag containing the PowerBook I'm writing on now,
and held on for dear life. The crowd around me was pushing at me from several
directions. I began trying to work my way back, past sweaty, tattooed bodies,
to get away from the shoving. But there were a number of large, muscle-man
types, only with earrings and tattoos, who were holding firm. They would
not let me through. From the other direction, the slammers were moving
in. That's when I lost one of my sandals. It was literally sucked off my
left foot, and it was gone. I tell you, there was no going after it. I'm
no fool. Crawling around on the grass while moshers went crazy would have
been sure suicide. So I just said fuck it. Then someone jostled my glasses
and they fell off. I grabbed them just in the nick of time. The band was
furiously delivering "Spin the Black Circle," which good as it is on the
album, is transcendent live. It is impossible for Pearl Jam fans not to
spontaneously slam when they hear this song. It's like a Pavlov's Dog reaction,
or something. Anyway, I kept pushing my way back until I got to a location
about 250 or yards back from the stage. I hooked up with a buddy who had
also been near me when the moshing pit spontaneously erupted. "I almost
lost my life," he said to me. By the time I'd caught my breath, Pearl Jam
was pounding out "Animal." This was when I was really able to appreciate
the awesome power of Pearl Jam. Here they were, outdoors (never the best
situation for a rock band), playing to 50,000 people (maybe more--sure
looked like it) and they had total control of the crowd. The Pearl Jam
rhythm section--bassist Jeff Ament and new drummer Jack Irons--are truly
the Watts-Wyman of the '90s. They propel the songs like the engine of a
rock 'n' roll locomotive barreling down the tracks. The solid power of
the rhythm section allows Mike McCready and Stone Gossard to layer on loud,
distorted rhythms and piercing leads. And then there is Eddie. When I first
heard Pearl Jam, in 1991, I really thought Eddie sounded like a not so
hot Jim Morrison. Boy was I wrong. As I repeatedly listened to Ten it became
clear what a great singer he was. With Vs I became a fan, and when I saw
the group deliver a truly amazing set at the Warfield Theater in San Francisco
following the release of Vs, I became more than a fan. I made the leap
of faith. This was one of my bands. Eddie Vedder's singing was truly powerful
and deep. It really is amazing that this slender, curly haired guy could
have a voice as big and wise as he does. And when Vedder sings, I no longer
hear traces of Morrison, I just hear Eddie. A guy bumped into me from behind.
He had his girlfriend on his shoulders. As the group began "Corduroy,"
she clapped her hand and shouted "wow!" On stage, Vedder was singing "I
don't want to take what you won't give." I don't know why but it was one
of many lyrics that seemed to make a lot of sense, as I stood in the sun
and watched this band. Vedder was playing guitar on this one, along with
Gossard and McCready. Then it was on to one of my favorite Pearl Jam songs,
"Not For You." "Restless soul enjoy your youth," he sang. Indeed, enjoy
it now, for it will pass, and what comes later may never be this real.
There seemed to be an intensity building on stage, the band warming up,
getting better and better. From my notes: "This is the good." McCready
took a truly on-the-edge solo, nailing the song to the wall. And this is
when things got really weird. The band stopped playing. They had completed
just seven songs. The performances were exceptional. Still, just seven
songs. They had performed for 26 minutes. Vedder spoke into the microphone.
He explained that he'd gotten a bad, bad case of the stomach flu. "This
has been the worst 24 hours of my life," he said. "Last night I was puking
and shitting--I'm all fucked up. But I think Neil Young's here..." What
he was saying was that he was sick, that Pearl Jam were curtailing their
own set, and that Neil was going to come on and do a set with the band,
while Eddie went back to the trailer to try and rest and recover. The audience
did not take well to this. A rather large asshole near me exclaimed: "That's
gay! I paid $25 for this. He's a fucking asshole. Unbelievable!" Someone
else said sarcastically of Young, "Hey, this guy's huge in Denver." "Neil
Young?! Why don't we start listening to Sinatra."
DISPATCH FROM THE FIELD #4
ATN special correspondent Michael Goldberg reports: 2:51 PM. The PowerBook,
possible due to the incredible heat, stopped being able to recognize the
modem. So after filing the first report, I was stuck with no way to send
in the reports. So I kept writing them, with the idea to send them as soon
as I got to a phone. Which I did. [crop] Neil Young took the stage looking
less like the Godfather of Grunge than a certified member of Woodstock
Nation. He was wearing a tie-dyed Harley Davidson t-shirt with an eagle
on his chest. "How ya doin'?" he asked the crowd.... Let's just rock a
little bit." "Big Green Country" off Mirror Ball was the set opener. Young
and company were so loose and raw that their sound made Pearl Jam seem
polished by comparison. This was true garage rock. Young's guitar sound--he
was playing his modified black Les Paul--was like the sonic equivalent
of a blow torch cutting through an iron safe or the hull of some sunken
pirate's ship. When Neil Young solos, it is an amazing thing to behold.
His body moves back and forth in a jerky fashion. It is as if the music
itself is grabbing his body, moving him against his will. His face gets
all screwed up. One can see pain, frustration, anger and many more emotions
flash across it. He becomes completely lost in the moment. Nothing else
matters. His entire essence is felt in the notes he is playing. The Pearl
Jam guys were immediately caught up in playing with their hero. Gossard
was literally jumping up and down in place. Ament and McCready were playing
with an intensity even more severe than when they played with Vedder earlier
(if that is even possible). I saw a body floating above the mosh pit. "Act
of Love" was a wall of loud, distorted guitars. The verses ride on just
two chords. As they band moved from chord to chord, it was as if a dinosaur
were taking steps. Huge, thunderous, monolithic. They played much of Mirror
Ball including "Throw Your Hatred Down," "Truth Be Known," "I'm the Ocean,"
"Downtown" and, for one of the encore numbers, "Peace and Love." They also
dipped into the Neil Young songbook for "Powderfinger," "The Needle and
the Damage Done," "Cortez the Killer," Down By the River," "Out of the
Blue" and two versions of "Rockin' In the Free World" (one done as a final
encore). All I can say about this is, I have seen Neil Young perform many
times, but I have never seen him play this good. And I witnessed some of
the landmark solos of his career. He may be nearly 50, but he's making
some of the best rock 'n' roll the world has ever heard. And yes, people
were disappointed that Pearl Jam didn't complete their set, and yes, many
Pearl Jam fans didn't dig listening to Young. "I'm upset," said Michelle
Koch. "We want a refund. Eddie should make sure he's healthy before he
goes on tour." But Charles Black, who flew up from L. A. for the show had
a different opinion: "It was awesome," he told me. "It was well worth it."
Joe Newell, 25, didn't have so much fun. He was "a little disappointed"
with the show. He too flew up from L. A. in the morning and went right
to the show "I had a good time watching Bad Religion," he said, "but I
wish we could've gotten closer to the stage." Newell was disappointed at
Eddie's absence, but he thought the new Neil Young songs sounded "cool...
I'm a Neil Young fan. I'm glad they had Neil Young to come in for [Eddie].
If they didn't, it would have been mayhem."
PEARL JAM DISPATCH #5: X MARKS THE SPOT--YOUNG RISKS
IT ALL AT THE POLO FIELD
ATN special correspondent Michael Goldberg reports: Sunday, June 25. The
concert is all I've been thinking about for the past 24 hours. How good
was it. As good as it gets. And this is why. Consider the risks that Neil
Young took in taking the stage and carrying the full weight of satisfying
the rock 'n' roll hunger of 50,000 fans who had come to the Polo Field
to hear their favorite band, a band they hadn't had a chance to see in
two years. Young had to turn them around. He had to make 50,000 angry people
who had just seen the band cut short it's set after just 26 minutes, not
just pay attention, but get into his music. You had to be there to understand
that this was not a Neil Young crowd. 20 year old Pearl Jam fans don't
give a fuck about Neil Young. At least they didn't when he took the stage
on Saturday. They were angry. They made sarcastic comments about Young.
He was someone their parents had been into. He was not of their generation.
Young didn't simply take the stage and play a bunch of old favorites that
this audience had heard on the Classic Rock stations. At least half his
set was material none of them had ever heard before. Imagine having the
guts to play seven brand new songs for a hostile crowd. But Young is that
kind of stand-up guy. And he's truly a great, great performer. For anyone
to actually listen to the music he was making with Pearl Jam, to really
hear the guitar solos and not be won over by Young you had to be so dense
and so lame that you deserved to have a bad day. I think thousands of Pearl
Jam fans became Neil Young fans on Saturday, and I think Young should be
applauded for putting himself on the line the way he did. Meanwhile, I
can only hope that when Vedder feels better, and when he meets with the
other guys to discuss the San Francisco situation, that rather than offer
refunds, they agree to come back and play another show before the end of
the summer. We want to see Pearl Jam. We don't want our money back. "Restless
soul enjoy your youth," Eddie sang earlier. Come on Eddie, come back to
San Francisco, perform for your fans, let them enjoy their youth. It's
the least you can do, brother. Oh yeah, about that sandal. After everyone
had cleared the field, I walked back to the area where I'd been standing,
so many hours earlier, when the slamming had gotten out of control. I carefully
walked back and forth. Nothing. I combed the ground. Nothing. Then I looked
one more time. And I tell you, in a spot where there had just been grass,
I spied my missing sandal. Like I said, weird.
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