Vedder rocking in a magical place

Hawai'i is rarely far from Eddie Vedder's thoughts.

The Pearl Jam vocalist has a Neighbor Island home where he spends a good part of the year fully engaged in surfing winter north shore swells. Those same waves were also where he met good friend, mad talented Hammond B-3 organ player, unofficial sixth member of Pearl Jam and Waimanalo native Kenneth "Boom" Gaspar.

Vedder also gives back to his part-time home whenever possible.

When Jack Johnson asked him to perform at a fundraiser last December in support of the North Shore Community Land Trust, Vedder squeezed Pearl Jam into a small pavilion at the Waimea Valley Audubon Center for a tight, incendiary set that was the very sweet equivalent of what it might be like catching the band doing Seattle club gigs again. And after almost sitting-in at two previous editions of Johnson's annual Kokua Festival, Vedder said "yes" to a full solo set with Gaspar at this weekend's sold-out fourth go-round of the environmental-education benefit concerts.

Vedder phoned from a recording studio in his hometown Seattle where he was working on solo music for "Body of War," a documentary on the post-war life of 25-year-old Iraq War veteran Tomas Young who was paralyzed from the chest down. The film was produced by Phil Donahue and directed by filmmaker Ellen Spiro.

In a relaxed one-hour chat that revealed a very humble and at times disarmingly humorous soul, Vedder spoke gratefully about his friendships with Gaspar, Johnson and pro surfer Kelly Slater, covering Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's "Hawai'i '78" at Pearl Jam's epic tour-ending Blaisdell Arena show in December, and his new "Body of War" compositions.

He also spoke seriously and passionately about his belief that people, not politicians, hold the key to changing the trajectory of U.S. environmental policy.

Where are you calling from?

I'm in the studio in Seattle. I'm working on a few batches of songs.

I'm doing a couple of songs for this movie on a soldier I just met. He came home from Iraq with a gunshot wound that took out his spine and he's been left in a situation where nothing below his chest really works at all, including his stomach and all that. So he's really in an intense physical condition. There's a lot of challenges. And he's so heroic.

And I feel patriotic because he's standing up against this war ... speaking out against this war. He's not (been) able to maintain his old friendships with all of the guys he served with because it's kind of unpopular to do that.

The way he says it ... soldiers that are still for supporting Bush are like chickens supporting Colonel Sanders.

He's an incredible young man. I've been talking to him a lot lately. And I've written a couple of songs for him ... kind of becoming his voice for this movie.

Is the film a dramatization? A documentary?

It's a straight documentary showing his activism and showing his life. I think it's going to be called "Body of War" and it's just about finished so we're adding some music to it. ... His name is Tomas Young.

Is he from Washington state?

He's from Kansas City. He signed up (on) September 13th (2001) to fight the bad guys. And by the time he's trained and he goes over, he's going to a different place and a place he never expected to go.

You can read a lot or you can listen to the Bill O'Reillys of the world or even the liberals that have not been, or certainly haven't served, and you're not going to hear it like you hear it from somebody who was there or somebody who's experienced it.

And, of course, now it's coming out. I mean, you don't get awards for being right. A lot of people were saying this (was) a bad idea from the get go — including the biggest protest this globe has ever seen — before we got into this mess. ...

At least it's getting to the mainstream now. People see that it's a (expletive) nightmare.

Are these songs solo tracks?

Yeah. I'm just throwing a few things together on my own.

How did you and Boom wind up playing together at Kokua Festival this year? Did you volunteer? Did Jack recruit you?

I've almost played the last two years. I was going to play the second one, but I got snowed in (in) Seattle. I think you had some weather (issues in Hawai'i). It hit everybody at once.

Last year, I was on an outer island with my guitar and was flying to either O'ahu or Maui or something — wherever the first (concert) was last year. And I had to get home for a family emergency.

So this year, Jack felt that if he put me on the bill then I'd have to come. (Laughs.)

I'm on the bill, but we don't know what's gonna happen. But obviously, any time you get to play the Islands and any time I get to play with Jack is going to be a good deal. Everyone's looking forward to it. ...

How long have you and Jack known each other?

Well, I think I met his pop (North Shore surf legend Jeff Johnson) first. I met his brothers before him. So maybe there's a screening process that they put you through before they introduce you to Jack. (Laughs.)

But apparently I squeaked through.

I would imagine it's been a few years ... maybe 2002 or something. I'm not sure. But I knew of his music before.

(The Johnson co-directed surf documentary) "Thicker Than Water" was probably my introduction to his art.

How did you meet?

It was through Kelly Slater that I met Jack's family first and then, later, Jack. (It was) Jack's dad first. We went on a paddling canoe trip and then I met the brothers ... and then, of course, his mom Patti.

Some of the people I'm honored to know and have actually become good friends of were actually introduced by Kelly. He kind of swims in magical circles, not only in beautiful waves. He has great circles of friends, and I was honored to be included.

I've done some traveling with Kelly and ... met some great people around the world and have been really fortunate to know the Johnson's and the nice community of people up there on the North Shore.

Kelly's behind that all.

Is Kokua Festival the first time you and Boom have performed together like this?

I don't think I've ever played a gig by myself that wasn't a benefit. And with all those times, I've played with different people here and there. But I don't think I've ever played a show with Boom.

I think the first show that Boom and I ever played together was with the band. I think (Pearl Jam guitarist) Stone (Gossard) was missing because he was (doing) an environmental (project) in Australia at the time. We played the House of Blues, opening for The Who. I think that was Boom's first gig with us.

It's great to see the world and see rock 'n' roll through the eyes of a local. It's really a romantic and magical story: our friendship and seeing him travel the planet.

And one thing was cool. We went to Europe. And Boom and his wife Pinky had never been to Europe. We (went) over there last summer and we played Portugal. ...

Some time — a couple of hundred years ago — a couple of brothers named Gaspar took off from a port in Lisbon and ended up in the Islands. And I think it was the first time that one of Boom's family had been back to Portugal since.

To explain that to the audience in Portuguese and then have them see this guy return with a band playing some powerful music was a kind of moving experience.

I'll bet the feeling was the same for Boom.

I think that there's a natural chemistry change when you spend a lot of time in (Hawai'i).

I think you appreciate these things more because you're away from sidewalks and satellites. You're kind of protected a bit from normal white noise that's everywhere, and city landscapes. And I think that your nerves are up on your skin in a really positive way.

You're connecting with ... (Vedder searches for words)

... our surroundings?

Yeah. In a positive way, you're more vulnerable to pure feeling through emotions in regards to appreciating your life and appreciating things that happen. It's not just another day on the subway where you almost have to try to meditate yourself out of your body.

I'm just getting long-winded and going nowhere. But I guess what I want to say is that Boom's way of being is infectious.

I chatted with Boom prior to Pearl Jam's December show at Blaisdell Arena. He really does seem to take absolutely nothing he has achieved for granted — family, friendships, his life experiences here.

Yeah. I thought I was that way, too. And for the most part, I was. But it's gotten even deeper since.

He's been a tremendous ... not to make any kind of a reference to The Beatles in regards to our band, but he's like our Billy Preston, you know? (Laughs.)

He told me his first impression of you — when he met you on the waves and didn't know who you were — was that you were "a swell guy." What did you think of Boom?

It's all been good. It's all been good. I've never thought anything but good about him since I first met him.

How did you find out that he was a damn good keyboard player, too?

I saw him play at a small little wake on one of the outer islands on a very small hillside away from everything. There was a young man who had been part of the musical community ... who passed away at an early age, and they had a bit of a wake for him (and) played some music on somebody's back porch.

And I knew I was watching a world-class (Hammond) B-3 (organ) player. I couldn't believe my ears.

So I knew that he could play before I met him. That's how I first saw him — when he was playing.

His highest compliment for you was that you came across very local in your demeanor, your values and your beliefs. So much so, that he told you, "Brah, you sure you not reincarnated and was Hawaiian before?"

(Vedder pauses, clearly moved.) Wow. Yeah.

What has Boom brought Pearl Jam musically and through his personality?

I think the biggest thing is what we talked about. We've been able to see, in a way, the things that we've accomplished as a group ... through a new pair of eyes and another heart and, in some ways, a heart that was untainted by some of the stuff that we had been through. (A heart) less hardened from some of the stuff we had been through early on.

In fact I think when Boom and I got together, (Pearl Jam) was going back into the studio to record after what for us was the hardest challenge and moment in our lives — when we lost nine people at that show in Denmark.

(In June 2000, nine fans were crushed to death during Pearl Jam's set at the Roskilde Festival.)

It was a healing time for us. And a good way to put it is, Boom was like stem cells, you know? (Laughs.) And he came in and just helped repair. He was part of the healing process in a big way. Fresh new cells that ... found every spot that we were ailing.

He seemed to give us new life.

Pearl Jam's three-hour December tour-ending show here was, for want of better words, pretty darn epic. Was that because the band hadn't played Honolulu in 13 years or is that how every final show on a Pearl Jam tour goes off?

You always think that the last show is going to be the one, but it's usually the second-to-last show.

It seems like the last show is going to be the end-all to some long journey, you know? But for some reason, that's not how the gods play along.

This was a rare occasion, I think, where it really did come together in a way that was, for us, extremely memorable. I think that a lot of things lined up for us. We had a good week of playing beforehand.

It was a real meaningful opportunity for us to get to play (a benefit show) up at Waimea Falls and to be able to contribute back to the Islands in the form of the North Shore Community Land Trust — realizing that (it's) a really rare coalition that made the preservation of 1,100 acres ... of land at Pupukea and Paumalu possible.

It was a great opportunity to be part of that. I felt the vibe was really positive up there. So that kind of just began the whole trip.

The good thing is that you've got to wait for your equipment to get from Australia (where Pearl Jam had been touring). So we had a few days (for) everybody in the band and the crew to get into the water a bit.

And it was a bit of a washing off of all the tour dates. It was just a great way and a great place to end what was probably the most extensive touring we'd done since 2000.

One of the highlights of the Blaisdell show was your very reverent cover of Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's (and the Makaha Sons of Ni'ihau's) "Hawai'i '78." How did you first become acquainted with the song and Israel's music?

I don't even remember. It just seems like it's part of the atmosphere. It's part of the land, you know?

If you're on some kind of hike or if you're on a long paddle ... you just kind of hear that stuff in your head. In some ways, he became, for me, the voice of the Islands.

I can't tell you when I first heard it. I just feel like there's speakers hidden in the trees and they're playing Brother Iz at all times. That's how I feel. (Laughs.)

"Hawai'i '78" is definitely one of Iz's most powerful recordings. But why did you want to do it?

It was just one that I felt a connection to. I can't say (the connection) was more than (with) other (Kamakawiwo'ole songs). It was just something that kind of emerged to the top there. I don't know why.

We played it at sound check that day and there it was. So it was just like a ... (Vedder searches for words) a glass ball that came up on shore for us.

Were you nervous at all about doing it? It's such a beloved composition locally.

I think that I'd be nervous for somebody who didn't know what that song means. I'd be nervous if somebody was going to touch on that song without knowing where it came from. That wasn't the case for me. ...

We didn't expect anything from it. It was more (us) wanting to play it to get it into the arena and get it into the atmosphere. We were almost asking Iz to kind of come down and check us out and give us a blessing; and, at the same time, not really thinking too hard about it.

When I heard that it was getting played on the radio, the first thing I remembered was being choked up at the audience's reaction. I remember feeling the response of the local audience and getting choked up and wondering if it affected the vocal, you know? (Laughs hard.)

Your throat tightens up when you get emotional like that. So I was just trying to contain myself and let myself go at the same time.

This is really talking a lot about myself, isn't it? (Laughs.)

It's OK. It was a great moment. ... It certainly moved a lot of the people that went to the show.

I heard that after. And I'm glad it was accepted because we came at it from a pure point of view.

What do you admire most about what Jack and Kim Johnson are trying to do with the Kokua Hawai'i Foundation and Kokua Festival?

First, their ambition for positive change. Not to just give back, but to do it in such an intelligent and effective manner.

Jack's got a "Whitney Houston thing" — "I believe the keiki are our future." He's like Whitney Houston without the drug problems. And his wife is way more stable than Bobby Brown.

There's a knee-jerk vibe to want to do good. You can raise some money and you can donate some time. But to really get involved with a progressive way of thinking that can become a prototype for others to follow? That becomes not just a full-time job but a lifestyle.

They prove it can be done with ... even putting on shows. ...

There's an organization that's kind of coming together now ... (Pearl Jam) has been looking into it and taking some meetings ... called ... a Smart Project. They're saying that we can start putting on shows with a lot of things in mind, looking at our environmental impact.

(Pearl Jam has) been doing things like carbon-offset stuff where we figure out what kind of carbon we put out into the atmosphere in the daily business of touring from buses and trucks and things. And then we try to offset that by preserving parts of rainforests and things like that.

This is just part of this Smart approach. They're looking at waste reduction, the carbon-offset stuff. Sustainable sourcing of (tour merchandise) — which is (looking at) who makes your T-shirts, where the material comes from and (ways) to do that in such a way that's a positive. ...

You're doing all these things within the business of your group or your concert thing and you're not being a liability to the planet. You can create a situation where this becomes the norm and then you end up making a large impact.

This is the kind of thing that Jack and Kim ... don't just do in their business lives. It's the way they live their lives.

And it's really important because once you see it done, then you realize it can be done.

Jack and Kim do live a good deal of their home life "green." Do you?

I'm in Seattle. My house is mainly what we call "wet." (Laughs.)

But Jack and Kim went one beyond. They even did cloth diapers. So they're still teaching us things.

Just when we think we're pretty close, they're raising the bar over there.

What's your take on our country's environmental policy under the current presidential administration?

One of the first things that happened — and this is pre-9/11 — was that a lot of the energy policies were rewritten by the energy companies. These are the meetings that, if you remember, were kept secret. And they went to court to keep the minutes of these meetings secret. I believe the meetings were with (Vice President Dick) Cheney and all the attorneys from the energy companies.

And so they rewrote policy, and rewrote law. And the people that they let rewrite the law, as far as I understand it, were the energy companies. ...

It's one of the first things they did (after the 2000 elections), if I'm not mistaken. And that's an incredibly dangerous procedure or process if you think of who's in control of something as fragile as our environment.

We like to think of ourselves as a superpower and as leaders. But if we can't lead in some kind of way where we don't even participate in something like the Kyoto Protocol, then we have no business suggesting that we're leading this planet in any kind of positive way. It's a travesty.

I think what you're seeing and what's going to have to happen is things like (Kokua Festival) or a gift of a movie that Al Gore and his co-workers have put out, "An Inconvenient Truth," that seems to have hit a lot of people.

And it's never too late.

It's just a really important time. ... It's up to the community to start doing these kinds of things on their own. ... You've got a number of mayors across the country — maybe 50 to a hundred of them — saying, "We're going to run our cities in congruence with things like the Kyoto Protocol whether our nation as a whole chooses to sign on it or not."

At some point, with politicians being grotesquely financed by large corporations, it's going to be up to the people to educate themselves. Through technology and the Internet, etc., information is accessible and it's up to the people to educate themselves and act and let the people lead.

(Politicians) want to be elected. Right now, as opposed to six months ago, you probably will be able ... to have an anti-war candidate because that's how the people are feeling. Finally.

And (it's) the same with the environment. When people want that and they feel it's a concern, these guys will want to be elected. So they will be environmentally active candidates.

It's like you will create that candidate by what you demand. It's like supply and demand.

The most disheartening thing is when you hear people say, "I just don't feel like I can do anything about it." And I think, as a testament to what kind of power the people actually have ... I would guess that when this administration hears people say they don't think people can do something about it, it makes them very happy.

It gives them license to do whatever they want. ... (And) they have. And in a very arrogant and incredibly unattractive fashion. And I think in such a way that doesn't really represent the people that live in this country.

Pearl Jam has never been shy in the past about supporting presidential candidates it believes in. Are there any presidential hopefuls the band is supporting for 2008, or are you still watching what unfolds?

You know, to be honest, I think that Democrats and the media and everybody should be a little less concerned with our next election and a little more concerned with stopping this war immediately. Like now!

Talk to these moms. Talk to these guys that are coming back with injuries. And then try to watch the news and hear things about Hillary's haircut and YouTube advertisements or something.

There's a lot of people that will ... be dead or maimed in two years of this war continuing. That needs to be addressed right now. We'll figure (the presidential primaries) out.

When did we start talking about candidates two years ahead of time? ...

How is all of this affecting the songwriting you're doing right now for "Body of War"?

At this point, I'm just writing what comes out. And there's so much coming out.

If you talk to this young cat Tomas Young at any length you realize that this conversation could be recorded and turned into a book. So in some ways I'm just trying to write his book in songs, or something.

I'm glad that I have an outlet.

And that's the thing that everyone should realize. Protests are an outlet. Or writing letters is an outlet. Educating yourself, in a way, is an outlet.

Let's be preventative. If we had a disease and we had to get it cut out, then the next thing we'd want to do is make sure we tried to prevent the next outbreak. ...

Do you see the public having a real effect on changing policy?

I think it's taking place as we speak.

Pete Seeger talks about a giant teeter-totter and people with teaspoons trying to level off the teeter-totter by putting little teaspoons of sand on the one side to level it off and get it to come their way. ... Some of the teaspoons have holes in them. And they're only putting little bits of sand (on their side). And then one day, it just goes over to their side.

And (the other side) wonders, "How did that happen?" And it's, like, "Ah, it's those guys with the damn teaspoons."

It's out there. It'll catch fire. You have to believe it.

You can't sit around as a father or as parents, as Jack and Kim would relate to. You can't. You've gotta know that you're raising your child and that they're going to have a beautiful world to live in.

It's really interesting to teach your kid about the planet. My daughter (Olivia) is 2. And she's grasping the planet and that it floats around in the middle of a black soup. And she's trying to figure it out.

But she's trying to figure it out. At age 2! And that has to be a positive thing for the future. I had great parents growing up. But I can't imagine them sitting me down to teach me about the environment. It was just a different time.

I'm not much into computers. But just this morning (I found) this thing called Google Earth. Have you heard about it?

Yeah.

Well, if you go far back you're looking at the planet and all the vast black stars and such. And then you actually zoom in into your house. (Laughs.)

She's able to see it in a way that I'm just seeing for the first time myself.

And then you can go from Seattle to the North Shore ... and look underwater and see everything that leads up to the (northwestern Hawaiian Islands).

It's incredible! Incredible.

Fuente: http://the.honoluluadvertiser.com/article/2007/Apr/20/en/FP704200319.html

DREDG - "ART"

DREDG - "ART" II

Robinho: "Esta temporada quiero ganarlo todo"

EL BRASILEÑO AFRONTA LA TEMPORADA DE SU CONSAGRACIÓN

Robinho, que comenzará su tercera temporada vistiendo la la camiseta del Real Madrid, se plantea conquistar "todos las competiciones" que el equipo dispute y ser un jugador que pueda ayudar a sus compañeros, con los que ya se entrena desde el miércoles, después de dilatar más las vacaciones por su participación en la Copa América de selecciones.

"Vamos a por todos los títulos. Quiero ganar la Liga otra vez, la 'Champions', y todos los torneos en los que compite el Real Madrid", así de contundente se mostró el brasileño, en una entrevista concedida a los medios oficiales del club blanco, Realmadrid.com y Real Madrid TV.

El nuevo Madrid de Bernd Schuster, más ofensivo en principio que el de Capello, supone una mayor motivación para el '10' blanco: "Nos hemos saludado, pero poco tiempo hemos tenido para hablar. No pasa nada, porque poco a poco iremos conociendo más y más sus ideas. Hay que ir paso a paso a paso y trabajar para conseguir jugar como el entrenador nos pide".

Robinho se presume como una pieza básica en el esquema del nuevo entrenador, quien dará "mucha importancia al balón, aunque ahora está incidiento más en el trabajo físico". El futbolista está "encantado de estar siempre con el balón", ya que considera que el equipo está preparado para "hacerlo bien y sacar a relucir la calidad" que atesora.

Kaká no es la solución

Que es un extraordinario futbolista, pues sí. Que es de los mejores del mundo en su puesto, pues también. Que aportaría clase y distinción al Madrid, vale. Pero que el fichaje de Kaká sería la solución de todos los problemas blancos, no. Por ahí no paso.

Las dificultades del Real Madrid en los últimos años vienen desde atrás, no desde los delanteros. El equipo ha hecho goles con todos los entrenadores. Con más o menos lucimiento en su juego -los últimos cuatro años, con lucimiento cero- pero con efectividad. Siempre han tenido en su plantilla a algunos de los mejores futbolistas del planeta y eso, a la hora de definir, marca la diferencia.

El Madrid no sabe defender. Desde que se fue Hierro -ese del que decían que no tenía cintura, que estaba viejo y que se fuera para su pueblo-, se han gastado decenas y decenas de millones de euros y no han encontrado un sustituto. El único central que se ha salvado de la quema en las últimas temporadas ha sido Sergio Ramos, y tanto Luis Aragonés como Schuster se empeñan en ponerle como lateral derecho.

En esa posición cuentan con Cicinho y Michel Salgado. Me parecen dos futbolistas perfectamente aprovechables que no necesitan a Ramos. Donde el sevillano va a hacer falta es en el eje de la zaga, donde Cannavaro es lo que es, donde Pepe yo creo que va a tener un buen rendimiento y donde Metzelder va a ser un auténtico bluff. Un tipo tan alto, tan poco rápido y tan estático es lo último que le hace falta a la sangrada defensa madridista.

Que Kaká sería un buen fichaje no hay duda. Que sería cerrarle las puertas a Guti también hay que tenerlo claro. Pero lo que necesita el Madrid con urgencia es mejorar defensivamente, pero, claro, Kaká es Kaká..

High Fidelity - Mr. Brightside

PREDATOR - TRAILER

INTERVIEW WITH THE CURE (2000)

Robert Smith – the Cure’s main man and pop culture’s unkempt poster child of doom and gloom – has announced (once again) that the band’s new album, Bloodflowers, and accompanying tour are indeed the last. Despite some catchy pop tunes Smith has penned in the past, such as “Just Like Heaven,” “Boys Don’t Cry,” “Friday I’m in Love,” “Lovecats,” and “The Walk,” somehow the brighter numbers always seem like they slipped in by mistake. Bloodflowers, however, remains true to the Cure’s Goth fans with its ambient, somewhat familiar terrain of somber introspection over lush, brooding guitars.

NYROCK:
There are rumors that you're not an easy person to work with....

ROBERT:
We had quite a few changes in the line-up but that's hardly spectacular. Things happen in a band and maybe I'm not easy to work with but there has to be somebody who knows the direction. Anarchy in a band just doesn't work.... Or maybe I should say that I can't work like that....

NYROCK:
And the record companies? There have also been rumors of some friction with them.

ROBERT:
We invited the people from our record company and the two songs they liked the most were taken from the album. Maybe it was a childish reaction but I really don't like singles. Record companies don't really care for the artistic part of an album. They want a collection of hit singles to make sure the album sells. I'm not interested in it.

NYROCK:
I couldn't help but notice that there isn't much promotion for the new album, which is usually a sure sign of friction between artist and record company....

ROBERT:
They're not happy with it. They think it's commercial suicide because they're missing the singles. They think this album is the worst I could've ever done but they said the same when we released Disintegration and it wasn't a failure. They've got a screwed-up idea who our fans are. People who like the catchier, happier tunes like "Friday I'm in Love" are not our fans. They like single songs but they don't buy our albums.

The Cure have been around for 20-odd years and the good thing is that we don't need to compromise. We're not exactly new comers.

NYROCK:
Some critics have accused the Cure of starting to rehash their earlier stuff. Others say you're losing direction. Your old friend Wayne Hussey from the Mission UK claims you're doing a "Cure by numbers": a happy song, a pop song, a sad song....

ROBERT:
On the last albums I fought against the idea of the Cure having a certain sound. But on this record I used this in a positive way. I wanted the album to sound like us. We've been together for over two decades and you can't always reinvent yourself. It just doesn't work.

In the past we have attempted different styles, and it was often good. It can be satisfying to experiment even if it's only on a small scale. But I really know that what it all boils down to is there is one particular kind of music, an atmospheric type of music, that I enjoy making with the Cure. I enjoy it a lot more than any other kind of sound.

NYROCK:
So what was the main inspiration for this album?

ROBERT:
I wanted to make another great Cure album, something I could really be proud of and, to be honest, Disintegration was the last album I really liked. So I grabbed the band and made them listen to it. I actually made them listen to Pornography and Disintegration and said, "These, to me, are the two high points of what we've done as the Cure in this idiom, and I would like us to make a third part of an emotional trilogy." I mean it isn't the third part of the trilogy but I wanted it to sound like it was. I know it all sounds a bit crazy but then that's how the press has described me often enough and maybe it's time to take full advantage of my image....

NYROCK:
Were you trying to capture the typical Cure sound with the new album?

ROBERT:
Personally, don't think there is such a thing as a typical Cure sound. I think there are various Cure sounds from different periods and different line-ups. They usually sound very distinctive, but I don't think there is something as "a typical Cure sound." That would be stereotyping it. Of course, there's always my voice and a heavy bass line but I can't change my voice and the bass line always seems to be there.

NYROCK:
You generally take a long break between albums. The last one was four years....

ROBERT:
Because an album is only going to happen when I feel like doing it. I have to be in the mood for it. I can't force myself to feel inspiration where there is none. Ironically, the lack of inspiration can be what triggers inspiration, but that's another subject. I never wanted to trade in the name "The Cure" like a brand name and throw an album out every year. If I had to I'd go mad.

NYROCK:
You've been together 24 years. Bloodflowers is the 13th album. With each album since Disintegration there have been rumors that the Cure would stop recording. Once again, it's the last album. How final is this one?

ROBERT:
We owed our record company one album and now we fulfilled our contract. I promised myself that when I got to 40 I would do something new. I'm almost 40 now and it seems like a good time to start something new.

I want to work on a solo album and I don't even know if I'll sing on it. Maybe in a couple of years I will feel different and want to record another Cure album. If I feel like doing it I will. I don't want to burn all my bridges but for the moment it's time to stop. I'm proud of this album and if it's really the last album we've recorded then I feel it's a good way to go, a good way to finish. But I've learned from the past. I won't rule out the possibility of another album – just not anytime soon.

April 2000
Fuente: http://www.nyrock.com

INTERVIEW WITH RADIOHEAD (DECEMBER 2000)

Formed in Oxford, 1987, the alternative rock band Radiohead (named after a Talking Heads song) has gained strong international popularity over the years with works such as Pablo Honey (1993), The Bends (1995), and most notably the Grammy award-winning O.K. Computer (1997). Unlike previous efforts, however, the band's latest album, Kid A, is somewhat lacking in accessibility causing critics to proffer less than enthusiastic reviews. In the following interview, the band members talk with NY Rock freelancer, Gabriella about the new music.

NYROCK:
I can't help but think Kid A sounds a bit like Can and Kraftwerk....

COLIN:
It's true. Can and Kraftwerk were the bands we've been listening to a lot, but also Charlie Mingus. We wanted to show some new angles in our work. It felt a bit like we were in a dead-end street and that was really frustrating.

THOM:
After the success we had with OK Computer, I did feel like I'm in some sort of creative prison. It was time for me to break out of it.

NYROCK:
I heard that you worked with an Apple Notebook and a vocorder program to get some weird sound effects.

COLIN:
Thom sang through the notebook and the same time Jonny's keyboard was hooked up and we made all sorts of weird experiments, a little bit like the Beastie Boys maybe. They also tried a lot of new and sometimes weird sound effects. It was a very creative, relaxed atmosphere and we really enjoyed working together.

THOM:
I enjoyed the way it all worked out and the way we worked. We didn't have to push ourselves to work. We wanted to get things done, to experiment and find new angles, leave the old paths, you know. We tried to treat the album like a song, let the album develop itself rather than giving it a shape and moulding it into a shape. And it worked. It was a completely different way we used for work and it was rather liberating. We had about 40 songs but only a few made it, only a few of them were what we wanted on the album. We toyed with the idea of making it a double album but I think that would only have confused everybody even more. So we decided to stick with the songs we picked.

NYROCK:
For me, Kid A is a bit difficult to get into. What is your take on it? Did you plan it this way or was it something that just happened?

COLIN:
I don't think it is so hard to get into it. The way Thom sings those first few lines about Kid A, that's such an excellent opening for the whole album. It really shows you where we're going and what is happening in the album.

NYROCK:
The lyrics seem to be angst ridden. Fans may start to worry about Thom's health and state of mind....

COLIN:
Thom isn't half as moody and unstable as his lyrics can make you believe he is. I think a lot of people take the lyrics too seriously and read too much into it. They only show a part of Thom's personality, maybe the dark part, but it is still not the whole guy. He used his voice like an instrument and we used the lyrics like pieces in a collage, pierced something together and created an artwork out of a lot of different little things.

THOM:
There is no point in taking the lyrics alone, apart from the music. That's one of the reasons why we won't have a lyric sheet with the album. You just can't separate it.

COLIN:
Thom is really fed up with being the spokesperson of a lost generation until all eternity, with all their fear, angst, loneliness and post-millennium neurosis. He's trying to escape that fate by moving, always moving forward, never standing still, always developing....

NYROCK:
How did it all start? You just met in the studio and said, "Let's experiment a bit and see what happens" or did you have some rough plan, an idea in mind?

THOM:
I think it was the first time we didn't have a clue what we were going to do, what we were doing. We were just experimenting. We'd been in this state for about a year, just fooling around, trying out stuff and listening to what we did. Then it finally started to get into shape... After about 18 months.

NYROCK:
You once said that the track listing is almost painful for you, that you have such a hard time doing it, compared to the rest of the creative process, one would think it was just a breeze....

THOM:
The track listing is always the hardest part for me. It is so difficult and almost painful. I can only use the old metaphor about songs being like children. My songs are my kids and some of them stay with me. Some others I have to send out, out to the war. It might sound stupid and it might even sound naive, but that's just the way it is. I talked to Bjork about it and she agrees. She says she feels exactly the same way about her songs.

Editor’s Note: Radiohead are Thom Yorke (vocals), Jonny Greenwood (guitar, keyboards, xylophone), Ed O’Brien (guitar), Colin Greenwood (bass) and Phil Selway (drums).

Fuente: http://www.nyrock.com

INTERVIEW WITH EDDIE VEDDER OF PEARL JAM

Pearl Jam has had the misfortune of being in the media spotlight, as of late, for all the wrong reasons. Most recently, nine fans lost their lives during the band’s concert at the Roskilde Festival in Denmark, June 30, 2000, when the crowd surged toward the stage. July 26, 2000, Pearl Jam released a statement concerning the tragedies and investigation. They released another statement August 2, 2000.

In recent years, other media accounts have accused singer/songwriter Eddie Vedder of living in seclusion. Although he performed some solo stints and made some guest appearances with various musicians, among them the legendary Neil Young, fans began to wonder whether Pearl Jam would release another album. There had not been much new material from the band since 1998, until the release of their latest album Binaural (Epic) in May of 2000.

Moreover, since their inception, Pearl Jam has raised the ire of certain members of the entertainment industry by being notoriously uncooperative with the demands of their label, their public relations company and, of course, Ticketmaster.

Prior to the Roskilde tragedy, NY Rock freelancer Gabriella met up with Vedder to discuss these and other matters with the frontman of the seminal Seattle band.

NYROCK:
Critics could claim you try to keep people from your music. For instance, your single "Nothing As It Seems" is five and a half minutes, far too long for radio. And truth be told, although some bands would probably build a career around a song that has the quality of "Nothing As It Seems," compared to the rest of Binaural, it seems to be the weakest link of an otherwise strong album.

EDDIE:

Eddie Vedder in concert, Wales, June 6, 2000
Photo © Pearl Jam and Liz


We're not trying to put people off deliberately. It's not as if we want to stop them from buying our albums. You know as well as I do that it doesn't work. You can't stop them from buying albums, just as you can't make the audience buy albums. But we don't want to lead them on. For example, if we'd have a song with some earworm quality and great hook lines as a single, a lot of people would think the album is like the single and they'd be disappointed. OK, a lot of people would like that, especially the record companies wouldn't mind if we'd sell more albums this way. But for us, it just wouldn't be right. It's not the way we do it. It's not Pearl Jam.

NYROCK:
I'm curious, what is Pearl Jam then?

EDDIE:
We'd rather challenge our fans and make them listen to our songs than give them something that's easy to digest. There is a lot of music out there that is very easy to digest but we never wanted to be part of it.

NYROCK:
And you're known for your dislike of interviews and PR....

EDDIE:
I know our record company would like nothing better than to do a huge PR campaign, a real marketing bash, but I can't even stand the thought. It makes me physically sick just to think about it.

NYROCK:
Do journalists bother you or do you dislike giving interviews?

EDDIE:
I don't mind talking to people. I don't mind giving interviews so much, but the way it's all organized and regulated. That's almost like being in the army. I don't like rules and regulations.

NYROCK:
On the last track of the album one can hear you frustratingly hacking away on your typewriter. Rumor has it that you were suffering from a severe writer's block....

EDDIE:
I almost went completely crazy. I kept changing the lyrics and then changed them again, just to write another version. I ended up with several versions and then used the best and just put them together and that worked surprisingly well. But before I did that, I thought it would never happen, I'd never be able to finish it.

NYROCK:
Knowing writer's block it sounds pretty hellish to me....

EDDIE:
It was my own personal hell. I had a great time but at the same time the lyrics just didn't come together and I was wrecking my head. Somehow I still can't believe that it's all done and over with, that I finally got the lyrics together.

NYROCK:
Many bands would give an arm and a leg for success, but you seem to dislike it....

EDDIE:
I don't hate success, but I never wanted to be the spokesperson for my generation. So I just kind of sat it out for almost seven years and decided to wait it out and see if it would pass. I like music. Finally writing songs and performing is fun again. But I would like it a lot better if I could just do it, then walk away and be anonymous again.

NYROCK:
You're the president of the Pete Townshend fan club and perform his songs with your cover band, just for fun or in little clubs in Seattle....

EDDIE:

Eddie Vedder, Verona, Italy,
June 20, 2000
Photo © Pearl Jam and Liz


Just the other day I thought, "When Pete was my age he had already written Tommy," and that made it much harder to come up with good lyrics. I was always comparing my lyrics to great lyrics. There's so much junk on the radio – I still don't have MTV and I really don't miss it – that I set myself very high standards. I wanted to avoid bad lyrics at all costs. I'm not even talking about the Backstreet Boys or NSYNC; they're something completely else. I think they're in a world, or maybe even a universe, of their own. I'm talking about a lot of rock bands don't seem to have anything to say and they just don't move me.

NYROCK:
You also seem to have some issues with the U.S. ....

EDDIE:
I'd like to be proud of my country. There are a lot of great people in this country and I meet people every day that I truly admire. But, on the other hand, there are also so many idiots in this country. We're one of the super powers, but what good does it do? We may have the biggest weapons, but sometimes I think the smallest brains control them.

NYROCK:
You still use a typewriter instead of a computer to write your lyrics and from what you say, it seems as if you're vehemently anti-technology....

EDDIE:
I think technology went wrong somewhere. It just went into the wrong direction. Instead of helping us and freeing us, it seems to enslave us. That's what I talk about in "Grievance," about the dangers and what a lot of people don't see or don't want to see. There's the line. For every tool they lend us a loss of independence and it's true. Everything happens so fast. The technology is supposed to make everything simple, easy. It tries to make us believe that it's some sort of freedom we have. Of course, it's easy and comfortable if you can do all your shopping via the internet, if you don't need to leave the house to do anything. But, on the other hand, what is going to happen? You lose touch with people. You don't meet new people except on the internet and whatever you do can be traced. They know everything about you; they know what you buy; they know which papers you read, how long you stay on a page and they look at your statistics and they're going to offer you the products they think you might buy – most of them you don't really need anyway. What is going to happen to individuality?

NYROCK:
How do you feel that you've lost against Ticketmaster? I do admire you on the courage to take them on, but it is sad that now you are forced to work with them again....

EDDIE:
OK, we might have lost the war and we're forced to work with them again, but, on the other hand, I really do think it was a wake-up call for a lot of people and they started to notice what was going on. Especially on the East Coast, there are a lot of independent promoters who don't work with Ticketmaster and we're trying to work with them as much as we can. It might not be a lot that we have achieved, but at least we tried and we did our best.

Editor’s note: Pearl Jam are singer Eddie Vedder, guitarists Stone Gossard and Mike McCready, bassist Jeff Ament and drummer Matt Cameron.

NY ROCK Interview 2000 www.nyrock.com

The Second Coming of Pearl Jam

Hear Pearl Jam bassist Jeff Ament talk about the band's early days, what it was like to hear Eddie Vedder's voice for the first time and the truth about Grandma Pearl. Plus: listen to essential live tracks and read archived anecdotes.

"Hey, Eddie!" It's after midnight on Cleveland's sleepy waterfront, and Eddie Vedder -- carrying a worn suitcase and wearing a thin corduroy jacket -- is walking in his hunched posture toward the Ritz-Carlton hotel. He hears someone shout his name, and turns.

A mean-eyed young Republican steps from the shadows, barking, "Bush 2008! Bush 2008! Bush 2008! Jeb's running!" Then the guy grins at Vedder -- who was one of the headliners of 2004's pro-Kerry Vote for Change Tour -- gives him a sarcastic thumbs-up sign and prepares to watch the dour, volatile lead singer of Pearl Jam freak out.

Vedder stares for a moment. Then he just shrugs, mumbles, "OK, man," and heads inside. The heckler looks crushed. Riding in the hotel's elevator, Vedder laughs, showing dimples beneath his Jim Morrison-ish beard. "If he was trying to wind me up, it didn't work," he says in his whispery baritone. "Maybe he was just a big Gavin Rossdale fan?"

A few years back, Vedder might have melted down at the provocation. That was the Vedder who accepted a Grammy with the gracious words "I don't think it means anything"; the one who once yelled, "Just leave me alone!" at a young fan in front of a reporter. But this Eddie Vedder is forty-one years old. And in the ten years or so since you last saw him scowling on "Alternative Nation," dude developed a sense of humor. Falling in love with a new girlfriend, fashion model Jill McCormick, and siring a two-year-old daughter, Olivia -- who shares his intense blue-gray eyes -- didn't hurt. And there are other, deeper reasons for his newfound inner peace, as he'll tell me much later that night. Says Pearl Jam guitarist Stone Gossard, "Ed's in a better space than I've ever seen him."

The same could be said of Pearl Jam -- despite, or maybe because of, the fact that they spent much of the past decade deliberately tearing apart their own fame. They skipped music videos and TV appearances; launched a doomed, self-defeating battle against Ticketmaster; and released a series of largely introspective, idiosyncratic albums, beginning with 1996's No Code. They toured incessantly and became one of rock's great arena acts, attracting a fanatical, Grateful Dead-like cult following with marathon, true-believer shows in the vanishing spirit of Bruce Springsteen, the Who and U2. But to non-fans, the band seemed to all but disappear. It never broke up -- though lead guitarist Mike McCready admits, "We came close a few times."

Now, Pearl Jam are in the process of reclaiming their long-abandoned place at rock's forefront. "They're fresh, they're hungry and they're loaded for bear," says BMG chief Clive Davis, who recently signed them to the second major-label deal of their career. In May, they released Pearl Jam, an album bristling with anti-Bush, punk-rock energy. It is, by universal acclaim, their best work since 1994's Vitalogy -- and the first one since their debut, 1991's Ten, to demand attention with unabashed anthems. "I feel like we've been handing in our work on time, and we've been getting A's and B's, but we haven't really raised our hand and spoken out in class," says Vedder. "This record is us speaking out in class."

So far the world is listening: Pearl Jam has spent a month in the Top Twenty, and the first single, the anti-war, Ramones-meet-the- Who blast "World Wide Suicide," was a hit, reintroducing the band to radio. The band members are showing a newfound willingness to promote themselves -- appearing on Saturday Night Live and Letterman -- in part because they want their political voice heard. "It seems like a critical time to participate in our democracy," says Vedder. "I think we're representatives of America. We certainly have as much clout as, well, Rush Limbaugh. So if he's gonna fuckin' blow hot air, using his platform, then we should be doing the same."

Hanging out with the members of Pearl Jam -- as I did for five days in May during the first leg of their U.S. tour -- is like reconnecting with old friends from high school: You haven't seen them in years, but you're somehow surprised to find that they've had the audacity to change while you weren't watching.

In contrast to their time-warped image -- humorless, paranoid, constantly on the verge of implosion -- the band members seem cheerful and relaxed at the tour dates I spend with them. Like most musicians that have been around one another for years, they don't spend much time together, aside from work. "We give each other space, because when you're traveling all the time, you're just stuck in each other's face," says drummer Matt Cameron.

But these guys get along, and they're comfortable enough to welcome an outsider who insists on watching their sound checks and trailing them as they walk on- and offstage. They often exchange fist-bumps right before each show -- and by the second night, McCready gives me one, too.

Vedder sees the band as an example of a functioning democracy. "There's some clout in having stayed together for fifteen-plus years that says to people, 'It's not easy, but it can be done,' " he tells me in Cleveland. But Pearl Jam are also a dictatorship: Even Gossard -- who put the band together and came up with the music for most of its early hits -- has surrendered to the will of the guy he sometimes calls "Ed Ved." "At some point, Ed realized he was the central figure in the band," Gossard says. With his short hair and wire-rimmed glasses, he looks like he works at a dot-com. "If I was able to sing and create the kind of energy Eddie's able to create, I'm sure I would want the same ability to say, 'This doesn't feel right to me.' I think he could do a lot of different stuff, but he chooses Pearl Jam as the vehicle he likes. It's amazing to be part of that."

Backstage in a Grand Rapids, Michigan, arena, as a pingpong game rages a few feet away, Vedder and I sit on folding chairs, staring at a Macintosh laptop. The power chords of "Life Wasted" -- the album's second single -- pipe through tinny speakers. We're looking at a just-released Pearl Jam music video, the first one they've appeared in since "Jeremy," back in 1992. Vedder watches in pensive silence, tapping his foot to the beat.

The arty video is clearly not a bid for the TRL countdown: It explores the song's themes of death and rebirth by showing lifelike sculptures of the band members being subjected to exotic forms of abuse -- they're set on fire, doused in water, infested by worms and bugs. Tucked amid the oddities are a few sparse shots of Vedder singing and the band playing. As the video fades to black, I ask if it was done with computer graphics. Vedder looks hurt and explains that a multimedia artist, Fernando Apodaca, painstakingly created the images over six months by filming real, physical sculptures. The guys had to take life casts of their heads, and Vedder sacrificed his eyelashes to the uncomfortable process. "The medical journals say they'll be back eventually," he says, showing off his current half-lashed look.

Doing the video required the band to overcome a long-standing aversion to the form. When "Jeremy" won Video of the Year, Vedder felt the prize should have been called "Best Commercial for Your CD." "I think we kind of wanted to get out of that racket," he says, adding with a slight smile, "We were coming from a standpoint like the Native American Indians, who thought if they took your picture, part of your soul got sucked out of you."

During Pearl Jam's early burst of fame, Vedder had reason to believe that more than his soul was at risk. "There were some stalker problems that I've never really gone into," he tells me one afternoon in his suite at Chicago's Four Seasons, smoking one of his American Spirit cigarettes and -- as if to counteract the damage to his voice -- sipping tea. He's dressed in a style best described as Unfrozen Grunge Caveman: plaid shirt, corduroy pants and what may be North America's last pair of Dr. Martens. On his lap is his constant companion, a black Mead notebook -- emblazoned with a mod target-symbol sticker in a nod to his worship of the Who -- where he keeps lyrics in progress.

Vedder's eyes narrow, and he continues, speaking slowly, "Someone who had severe mental problems and chemical imbalances ended up targeting me and thinking that all the songs were written about her and that I was the father of her two children, and that the kids were products of rape, and that I was Jesus and that Jesus rapes." He winces. "Everyone says, 'Fame, blah, blah, blah.' No, no. This is not fame. This is physical threats upon your life." Vedder is vague on the details, but the problem seems to have peaked between 1994 and 1996. He and Beth Liebling (whom he married in 1994 and divorced in 2000) put up new fences around their Seattle house and enlisted twenty-four-hour security, even demanding that Pearl Jam's then-label, Epic Records, help pay for it: "If you want records out of me, you're going to have to help pay for security to protect your guy right now." Still, one day, he reveals, "This woman drove her car at fifty miles per hour into the wall of my house and almost killed herself."

Fear of the stalker -- which he chronicled in the track "Lukin," from 1996's No Code ("I find my wife, I call the cops, this day's work's never done/The last I heard that freak was purchasing a fucking gun") -- made it hard for Vedder to leave the house and contributed to his reputation as an angry recluse. He won't say what happened to the woman, except to note that she's still alive and there are no ongoing legal proceedings against her. "It will always be a problem," he says. Vedder eventually found another place to live, outside Seattle, a place he still won't name.

Around 1996, Vedder decided he'd had enough of fame, enough of hit songs -- in the studio, potential smashes started to sound "life-threatening" to him. The band cut back on interviews. Vedder started to prune the catchiness out of Pearl Jam's music, too -- which may be why some of the band's poppiest songs can be found on its B-sides collection, Lost Dogs. "I felt that with more popularity, we were going to be crushed, our heads were going to pop like grapes," he says.

The deranged stalker was only the most visible symbol of Vedder's ugly experience of celebrity. It's easy to forget just how big Pearl Jam, Nirvana and the amorphous concept of grunge were in the early Nineties. Ten sold more than 12 million copies. Grunge fashion spreads appeared in Vogue, and the band's music dominated pop radio.

Now Pearl Jam are the last band standing from their era, outlasting peers (Soundgarden, whose drummer now plays in Pearl Jam), rivals (Nirvana) and imitators (Creed) alike. Vedder is hesitant to dwell on those strange, early days. "This is the stuff I don't want to talk about, because it's bullshit, and you had to have been there," he tells me, taking a pull from a cigarette. "It was really fucking intense: These were pure feelings coming out from real individuals and were being co-opted quickly by the masses and characterized into a joke. And we weren't a joke."

With no videos and little other promotion, Pearl Jam's second album, Vs., still sold 7 million copies. Their follow-up, Vitalogy, sold 5 million, and No Code barely limped to platinum. Not everyone in the band was thrilled. "When we pulled back, I was like, 'Aw, man,' " McCready says, sitting in a Chicago dressing room. "I was a bit bummed out, because I wanted to keep doing it, keep doing videos. We had this chance, let's take it, you know? Let's not blow it."

But the band members now agree that they did the right thing. "Luckily, it turned out we didn't blow it, because we're still around," adds McCready. "And maybe we had alienated some fans throughout the years, which I feel bad for. But it made us survive as a band." Says Gossard, "In retrospect, it was brilliant -- it was what we had to do. Ed's instincts were totally correct. If we had followed the advice of everyone in the industry or our own egos, we would've gone for it until it went down the drain."

Nirvana's Kurt Cobain was even more troubled by his sudden fame -- and his retreat was even more final. He spent a lot of time dissing Pearl Jam in the press, once memorably accusing the band of pioneering a "corporate, alternative and cock-rock fusion." "I don't think he ever really figured out the band," Vedder says softly, curling into an armchair late one night. "However, I think that if he had survived, I think he would have gotten it. Now, mind me, those are big words, but I really think it's true."

Vedder looks off into the distance. "I miss him," he says. "There are a lot of times when we're passing around a guitar, around a campfire or something, and I just think like he'd be right there with us. I think about him all the time."

Vedder and Cobain famously reconciled, at least temporarily, on September 10th, 1992, at the MTV Video Music Awards. "We slow-danced underneath the stage when Eric Clapton was playing 'Tears in Heaven,' " Vedder says, furrowing his brow. "We were slow-dancing on a gym floor as though it was a seventh-grade dance."

Did you cop a feel?

No, I respected Kurt.

Who led?

That's a good question.That's the thing, no one led.

Mike McCready stares through his orange-framed glasses at the high glass-and-metal ceiling of Cleveland's Rock & Roll Hall of Fame and Museum, where several graffiti-covered cars hang like two-ton mobiles. They're leftover props from U2's Zoo TV Tour. "We opened for U2 on that tour in Europe," McCready says. "The crowds hated us!" It's Saturday afternoon, and we're on line to buy tickets.

McCready, whose fluid, bluesy solos provide some of that Cobain-despised "cock rock," is a sweet-natured recovering alcoholic who used to run onstage naked. In his hard-partying days, his bandmates treated him like a younger brother, but his role has steadily expanded: McCready wrote the epic new song "Inside Job," and for the first time, Vedder sings his lyrics.

After entering the main exhibition hall, we find ourselves, without warning, facing a large display case devoted to the Seattle scene of the Nineties. Inside, among other artifacts, are the remnants of a smashed Stratocaster -- a plaque identifies it as having belonged to one Mike McCready. "I had no idea this was here," he says, looking a little dazed.

Within seconds, he becomes an unwilling part of the exhibit as fans line up to take pictures. Meanwhile, a taped narrator offers a history of the scene; we're informed that Andrew Wood, the flamboyant singer of the glam-influenced Seattle band Mother Love Bone, died on March 19th, 1990, of an overdose.

A security guard yells at us for taking pictures. On the way out, McCready picks up where the narrator left off, recalling his first jams with former Love Bone guitarist Gossard, shortly after Wood's death. It hardly seemed like Hall of Fame material at the time. "It was just Stone and I in his parents' house," he says. "He had these riffs. We were working on 'Alive' and 'Even Flow' and 'Black,' just the two of us, for a long time."

Gossard had sought out McCready after seeing him jam to Stevie Ray Vaughan's "Couldn't Stand the Weather" at a party. McCready, in turn, encouraged his new bandmate to reunite with Mother Love Bone bassist Jeff Ament. Ament, a guileless skater kid from rural Montana, had formed an unlikely friendship with Gossard in the band Green River. The group, which also included future Mudhoney leader Mark Arm, blurred the lines between punk and metal -- Gossard was a Van Halen fan, while Ament preferred Black Flag. Together the band helped create the heavy, murky sound that came to be known as grunge.

Two nights earlier, at a Chicago steakhouse, Ament, who is still a skater -- and still dresses like one, in a black T-shirt that displays a goat's head inside a pentagram -- settles into a leather booth. As we begin dinner, Ament traces the breakup of Green River to an opening stint for Jane's Addiction in L.A.: Gossard and Ament were awed by Perry Farrell's bombastic, tribal rock, while Arm -- who went on to define the grunge sound with the defiantly indie Mudhoney -- was disgusted by what he saw as arena pretension. "When we saw Jane's Addiction, we were like, 'That's what we want to fucking do,' " says Ament.

After Wood's death, Gossard wanted to start a "darker" band. Eventually, he entered a demo studio with McCready, Ament and the best drummer in town, the hard-hitting Matt Cameron. There they laid down instrumental versions of songs such as "Even Flow" and "Alive." The tape found its way to a San Diego surfer and gas-station attendant named Eddie Vedder -- he had recently split with his band, Bad Radio.

Legend has it that Vedder wrote the lyrics to the songs in one burst, while surfing. That particular story, he tells me in his Chicago hotel room, is "100 percent true." But he concedes that another oft-told tale is less accurate: that the name Pearl Jam came from Vedder's great-grandmother Pearl, who, he used to claim, was married to an American Indian and was in the habit of making preserves spiked with various hallucinogenics. His great-grandma really was named Pearl. The rest is, indeed, "total bulllshit."

Told of Vedder's admission, Ament and McCready seem relieved. They cough up the true -- if less romantic -- tale behind the band's name. Brainstorming in a Seattle restaurant to come up with something, anything, to replace their original name, Mookie Blaylock (inspired by the NBA star), Ament came up with "pearl." The band didn't settle on the second half of its name until a 1991 trip to New York to sign a deal with Epic Records. Gossard, Vedder and Ament drove out to see Neil Young play Nassau Coliseum. "He played, like, nine songs over three hours. Every song was like a fifteen- or twenty-minute jam," says Ament. "So that's how 'jam' got added on to the name. Or at least that's how I remember it."

The houselights in Grand Rapids' Van Andel Arena burst on like a sudden dawn as Gossard kicks into the winding riff of "Alive." Vedder assumes a familiar pose, clutching his mike stand with both hands as if it's in danger of flying off the stage, and begins to sing, "Son, she said, have I got a little story for you...."

"Alive" is, with a few alterations, Vedder's story. When he was seventeen years old, his mother told him that Peter Mueller, the man he knew as his father -- a man he hated -- was not his father at all. His real dad was his mother's first husband, Ed Severson, a sometime lounge musician who had died several years before of multiple sclerosis. Vedder, who has used his mother's maiden name since the revelation, was four months old when his mother and Severson were divorced; he grew up knowing him only as a family friend.

In one departure from reality, the narrator of "Alive" hints at an incestuous relationship with his mother (check out the verse that begins, "Oh, she walks slowly, across a young man's room"). "There was no incest in my situation," says Vedder. "But people who knew my dad -- women -- would come over and stare at me when I was a teenager like you wouldn't believe. They were looking at me because I have his face and he'd been dead for ten years at least. So they can't take their eyes off me. And I probably caught my mom -- you know, she'd just stare at me."

Vedder started singing when he was six -- he used to be able to hit all of Michael Jackson's high notes on old Jackson 5 records. "When my voice changed, I was like, 'Wow, all of the sudden I sound like James Taylor,' " Vedder remembers. He's since heard a tape of his real dad singing Gordon Lightfoot songs; the style is more polished, but Vedder hears something familiar in the voice.

Onstage in Grand Rapids, Vedder looks out at thousands of fist-pumping fans and adds a line to "Alive" not in the recorded version: "We're all, we're all still alive!" He finishes with a spoken aside as the band blasts behind him: "Let me tell you, it ain't easy."

Eddie vedder is trying to get me drunk. We're in his hotel suite after the Cleveland show. He pops open a Bud with his lighter and hands it to me -- before I'm done with it, he'll try to hand me another one. Vedder has already chugged a bottle of red wine onstage, as usual, so he drinks more slowly now, nursing a Coors.

"I've actually tried to play a few shows without drinking," he says of his wine habit later that night. "But you know how bartenders sneak a drink in here and there, but the busboys can't? I felt more like the busboy -- that I was just working." Vedder used to smoke pot with some frequency, but he hasn't touched it since his daughter's birth. He also had "an Ecstasy phase" at some point and even tried recording some techno. "I was listening to all this stuff on Ecstasy. But I was wondering, 'Are they writing it on Ecstasy?' I decided that the pure way to do it is to actually take Ecstasy, and then write Ecstasy music," he says, laughing. "That didn't work out. But I enjoyed the Ecstasy."

Backstage before the show in Cleveland, he asks me, "Are you ready to stay up late?" I was ready. Vedder decides to put on mood music and disappears into his bedroom. After a pause, the sounds of the Strokes' new album fill the room. "Now obviously I have a lot more random stuff than the Strokes, but this is what's handy," he apologizes.

For someone who spent years ducking the media, Vedder is a hell of an interview -- engaging and verbose. When he gets deep into an anecdote, his low, resonant voice is nearly hypnotic. As we begin, he drafts a soap dish into service as an ashtray and lights the first of many American Spirits.

I ask him about "Life Wasted," on which he sings, "I have faced it, a life wasted/ I'm never going back again." He closes his eyes as he talks about how attending a friend's funeral can help you "realize what a gift this is, to be alive. When you leave that funeral, that drive is as important as any single stretch of road you'll travel on. You've got a renewed appreciation for life. And I think that feeling can last through the day, through the week, but then things start getting back to normal and you start taking this living and breathing and eating thing for granted. I think that song is there to remind you, 'This is that feeling.' "

Vedder had a specific friend in mind when he wrote the song: "The truth is -- I'm a little sensitive and this is a close, personal relationship. I'll just say it. Fuck it. Right up front. Half the record is based on the loss of the guy who turned out to be the best friend I ever had on the planet. And that was Johnny Ramone." Suddenly, the fast tempos and chunky power-chords that dominate Pearl Jam make a lot more sense.

It was an odd friendship: The Ramones guitarist, who died on September 15th, 2004 -- a month or so before Pearl Jam began recording sessions for the new album -- was a hard-core Republican and, by most accounts, not the warmest guy in the world. "We used to laugh that I made him a nicer human being and that he made me more of an asshole," Vedder says. Vedder, along with Red Hot Chili Peppers guitarist John Frusciante, Vincent Gallo and Rob Zombie, spent hours at Ramone's house, where he would play them music (on a jukebox, not a guitar) and show film clips of acts from Gene Vincent to the Dead Boys. "We were the students of Johnny Ramone, and forever bonded," Vedder says. "Never have I experienced a loss of someone I talked to with such frequency, in such depth, with such intimacy."

But it was yet another of Vedder's famous friends who would help him resolve the central drama of his life. Vedder's mother was in the middle of a painful divorce from Mueller when she told Eddie, then seventeen, the truth about his parentage. Vedder and Mueller were already at odds -- at one point, he has alleged, his stepfather pushed him down a flight of stairs. (Mueller has denied it.) As a kid, Vedder tells me, he used to cope with his pain over that relationship by going to a park with his guitar and singing a song by one of his heroes, Bruce Springsteen -- "Independence Day," the tale of a father and son parting ways: "There was just no way this house could hold the two of us." On 2004's Vote for Change Tour, Vedder finally became close with Springsteen.

One night, Vedder and Springsteen -- who famously worked out his own father issues in his music -- stood on a Manhattan rooftop, drinking tequila. "We were talking politics, and then got into family politics, of which we'd experienced a great deal and had a lot in common. It was a pretty intense conversation," Vedder says, haltingly. "He exposed me to some truths that he'd processed in a healthy way, that for me were still in a diseaselike state. He helped me cure some things I had been living with for a long time."

That night, Vedder told Springsteen how he used to play "Independence Day" and how his music had affected him. "You helped me as a voice coming from a piece of vinyl," he told him. "Now you helped to put it away by being a human being in front of me."

Not long after the conversation with Springsteen, Vedder attended the wedding of one of his brothers. There, he came face to face with his stepfather for the first time since the Eighties. "When I finally had to meet that guy again, Bruce was the one who got me in the right space to handle it," he says. "I have three younger brothers -- if it affected them that I didn't have a relationship with this guy, that was enough reason to forgive and resolve things. I didn't want them to be torn between the two of us."

We move on to another tough subject: the 2000 breakup of Vedder's marriage to Beth Liebling, whom he had dated since he was a teenager. He won't explain the split, but he does say that he was devastated. The divorce happened around the same time as the biggest tragedy of Pearl Jam's career: Nine young fans were crushed to death on June 30th that year during a set at the Roskilde Festival in Denmark. "You can imagine what kind of fetal position I was in," he says. "I just remember thinking that there was no way out. I was listening to The Who by Numbers and there's a line in 'Slip Kid' -- 'There's no easy way to be free.' I was thinking, 'I couldn't agree with you more.' "

Then Vedder met Jill McCormick. She was a model, a profession that Vedder had savaged in the Vitalogy track "Satan's Bed": "Such fine examples, skinny little bitch/Model, role model, roll some models in blood/Get some flesh to stick, so they look like us." He laughs when I ask if he apologized for those lyrics. "Look, the person I fell in love with, that happened to be her job. There were a couple days where it was like, 'Wow, this seems contradictory.' It had to pass a harder test than falling in love with just anyone. And it did."

But before the new relationship, while Vedder was still despairing over Roskilde and his divorce, the band went on with a tour. Sonic Youth opened, and Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon's then-six-year-old child, Coco, came along. "Coco gave me drawings, we played pingpong. Coco reminded me to open up my world, kept me from being the bitter asshole I had every right to be. I thought after Roskilde, 'OK, this is my chance, I can be that asshole forever.' Coco led me to the light.

"And now I have one of my own." He shows me some adorable pictures of Olivia Vedder, born on June 11th, 2004. It's nearly five o'clock in the morning.Vedder shakes his head and looks me in the eyes. "Roger Daltrey has this thing he always says: 'Be lucky.' It took me a few years to reach it -- but I took his advice."

(From RS 1003, June 29, 2006)