Pearl Jam
Riot Act
[Epic; 2002]
Rating: 4.9
Every few years or so, as Pearl Jam prepare for the grand unveiling of their
latest opus, everyone gets re-inundated with PR promises of the old grunge
gods breaking free from their self-imposed confines for a grand "return to
form," and told that, "No, really, this time they've proven themselves as
something more than a just the band that launched a thousand Candleboxes."
Yet, while Pearl Jam have outlasted virtually all of their grunge contemporaries,
they've hardly ever strayed from the classicist approach that brought them into
the rock world back in '91.
Riot Act, their seventh and most recent album, perpetuates the notion
that Pearl Jam is a tremendous rock band, despite their catalog's evidence
to the contrary. Like communism, Pearl Jam is as good as it gets in theory,
but it never quite seems to work out in practice: They're a hard working and
talented group who use their fame to champion causes that are dear to them--
even when that means alienating fans and fighting unwinnable wars against
corporate giants-- and they take full advantage of their major label status
(and dollars) by circumventing traditional ways of thinking about the band/fan
relationship. Through fan-club-only Christmas seven-inches and that entire
tour's worth of live releases, Pearl Jam have attempted to prove that recording
for the majors doesn't have to be synonymous with MTV pandering. If only their
music brimmed with the creativity of their business practices.
Since 1998's Yield, Pearl Jam have relied on an unchanging musical
formula, consistently declining the opportunity to innovate or improve their
sound, even while hinting that they could if they could be assured it
wouldn't completely tank. Since the genre-defining Ten, the band has
given us occasional glimpses at something more unique-- most notably on
Vitalogy, a wonderful, reactionary mess of an album, and then with
the diverse No Code, and even Yield's Eastern-tinged bonus
track-- but mostly, they've settled for traditional rock riffs and general
coasting. Riot Act sadly exemplifies this, bringing them ever closer
to homogenous bar-band territory.
The record peaks early on the opener "Can't Keep", a three-guitar gallop that
immediately strikes as fresh in contrast to the band's other recent work.
Eddie Vedder seldom pens a melody this original, and the song's gloomy,
atmospheric production compensates for the bored musicianship. From there,
however, Riot Act meanders from one song to the next with an
overwhelming insipidness. The devastated lyrics of "Love Boat Captain",
which mourns the tragic deaths of nine fans at the June 2000 Roskilde
Festival, are affecting, but the song itself is a standard rocker, which
seems an odd choice to accompany Vedder's poetic remorse.
Riot Act does momentarily pick up as it nears its end. "Greendisease"
is the closest to new wave Pearl Jam has ever come, and the Jeff Ament-penned
"Help Help" passes on the simple fact that it sounds at least somewhat
different from the band's archetypal rock'n'roll sound, and breaks the monotony
of an otherwise barren collection of songs.
Of course, what'll likely stick with you after the disc stops spinning is the
unbearable lows. The mechanical, pulsating guitar arpeggios of "You Are" almost
seem to cop from Trans-era Neil Young until you realize that it'd set a
nice ambiance for a semi-truck barreling down a highway in Stallone's Over
the Top. Worse still is "Bushleaguer", a near-rap about D.C.'s current
policy makers. Vedder's intentions here are admirable, but it's difficult to
imagine the execution failing any more miserably. His delivery is painfully
snide, served up with snotty, ain't-I-witty attitude, and the lyrics, which
clearly aim for a grittier mentality than typical Pearl Jam fare ("Swingin' for
the fence/ Got lucky with a strike/ Drilling for fear makes the job simple/
Born on third, thinks he got a triple") come off more Springsteen than Fugazi.
Everywhere else on Riot Act, Pearl Jam sound like they're supposed to,
with their usual distortion-powered riffs and stadium drums banging alongside
Vedder's emotionally damaged mumbling. And though it's hard, even now, not to
root for them, this album has sadly not upped their relistenability.
-Kyle Reiter, January 6th, 2003