They could have turned in -- turned in for the night, a Monday night -- but they turned out.
I'm not talking about the band.
I'm talking about the 40,000 who waited out a two-hour weather delay in the steamy halls of a baseball stadium that first opened its doors in 1914. Perhaps this was routine for some -- including me -- who had to seek shelter during a similar delay in 2013 at the same venue.
All delays are not the same, though, and the 2018 version had an advantage: Unlike 2013, Pearl Jam hadn't taken the stage, hadn't built any momentum, hadn't given their release. The anticipation of this evening had not yet been met with any sense of reality.
I cannot explain how important this is for a show of this magnitude. In 2013, Pearl Jam opened the show with six slower songs, testing the waters, fans ready for the waves to roll in. But that was not to be -- after a couple hours, anyway. By the time the show resumed, it was midnight, and the gas tank of everyone around me was nearing empty with the nearest exit miles away. No one wants a stadium concert to start, then stop, then start again.
This one was different. As you might know, Pearl Jam has been opening the majority of their shows in the past few years with songs like "Pendulum," "Release," "Long Road," "Low Light," "Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town," "Wash" -- all fine songs, but none of which brought thunder like the opening notes of "Given to Fly," an electric strike for the 40,000 who, by the looks of Wrigley Field, told their Uber driver to come back later. This show was on.
"And he still gives his love, he just gives it away," Eddie Vedder sang as the rain poured down. "The love he receives is the love that is saved." A surreal moment for many, I'm sure. You go from asking yourself, "will this show get canceled?" to "is this really happening?" Sounds like hyperbole, I know, but for me, it's going to stick as one of those concert memories that is untradeable, untouchable in my mind. So much that, if lightning had struck Wrigley Field at that very moment, at that was all we got, it would have been enough.
But is it really ever enough?
This was Pearl Jam's fifth show at Wrigley Field since 2013, and they have no problem selling the thing out. And it's not like the hipsters are demanding to see them. Their fans, who still line up days before the show to get the spots in the general admission pit, are more or less the ones who rewound cassettes in their youth, and were awestruck by the compact disc. Their relationship with experiencing music has changed. Neither format can now be played in newer cars.
A Pearl Jam concert is still Christmas morning -- it has not been passed by. A Pearl Jam concert is tradition that won't be run off by technology (or, for that matter, lightning). It's definitely not enough and never will be enough to only stream their tunes on Spotify.
It's almost enough when they open a show at Wrigley Field with "Given To Fly," "Why Go," and "Go."
"Never acted up before," Vedder sang. "Don't go on me now."
Things did not slow down until a cover of The Beatles' "Rain," followed by a cover of Neil Young's "Throw Your Hatred Down," both deeper cuts from legends which set up one of Pearl Jam's own legendary songs, "Even Flow."
And while the masses may come out for songs like "Even Flow," "Alive," "Black," and "Jeremy," it's the performances of "In My Tree," "Immortality," "Come Back," and "Smile" -- the latter played via request from a sign held by the stage -- that keep the die-hards happy.
While this show was "only" two and a half hours (their "normal" shows are well over three hours) because of an extended midnight curfew due to Wrigley being located in a residential area, it's my opinion that no one should have felt short-changed. Length of a show doesn't necessarily fairly represent the quality of show, and when Vedder slammed his guitar to the ground three or four times at the end of the show-closing "Baba O'Riley," somehow, you knew it was time.
Time to go home, but also time to start thinking. Thinking about the next one, whenever that may be.
Pearl Jam. Please, please, please. Don't go on me.
As we're winding down our twenty-minute chat over the phone, Pegi Young pauses and, calmly, gets to the heart of the matter.
"This is my life's work, and it has to survive," she tells me. "It's too important, and it's made a huge difference in so many people's lives."
Young is speaking about the Bridge School, an organization co-founded by Young herself. Its mission "is to ensure that individuals with severe speech and physical impairments achieve full participation in their communities through the use of augmentative & alternative means of communication and assistive technology applications and through the development, implementation and dissemination of innovative life-long educational strategies."
This weekend is one of the School's biggest fundraisers, and it's a special one: the 30th Annual Bridge School Benefit Concert at Shoreline Amphitheatre in Mountain View, California.
The lineup, as usual, is terrific: Neil Young + Promise of the Real, Metallica, Roger Waters, Dave Matthews, Willie Nelson, My Morning Jacket, Norah Jones, Cage The Elephant, and Nils Lofgren will perform. All proceeds directly benefit the operations of The Bridge School.
Also, as usual, the benefit concert will be all acoustic, challenging bands like Metallica and My Morning Jacket to alter their normal set.
"We have made a couple of exceptions over the years," Young admits. "We let John Lee Hooker play electric. We're not going to tell John Lee Hooker he can't play electric. (laughs) But very, very, very few (exceptions). Like Metallica, they come -- I think this will be their third time playing -- and play acoustic, and they get it, you know? And they still put on a powerhouse show, as have so many others like Green Day, The Who, Pearl Jam, Foo Fighters -- a lot of bands you just don't see playing acoustic. It's a beautiful thing."
Also beautiful is the stage's backdrop, which features students of the Bridge School sitting behind the musicians, enjoying the show.
"It's a wonderful experience," Young says. "Very heartwarming to have the kids on the stage -- a constant reminder of why you're there. Why the audience is there, why the musicians are there -- they are the stars of the show, and everybody gets that."
Here's the rest of my conversation with Pegi Young.
So, 30 years of Bridge School Benefit Concerts. How does it feel?
I don't want to say old, but certainly older than the 30-whatever-year-old that I was when this whole thing got started. But, you know, I look at it with a great deal of satisfaction. It's kind of amazing that the school has not only sustained itself for all these years by way of the concert, of course, but how it's grown and evolved.
We started with the four parent-placed kids, very humbled beginnings, and it has just grown to have a global impact. Obviously, looking at the need for the endowment, to keep the school going, that's been the big focus for us, and it has been for some time. And as time marches on, it's becoming more of a real need that needs our attention.
Tell me more about the endowment. What's your approach to seeing that succeeding?
Well, it's sort of a multi-pronged approach, actually, just looking straight ahead at the concert coming up, there's an opportunity for people to participate in the endowment campaign. You can go to the Bridge web site and look at the VIP donor section.
There are also general ways of helping us -- everything from putting us in your will to other alternatives, and certainly cash is always welcome, and we've done pretty well. And when I say cash, I mean cash at all levels. A big part of our donor pool is made up of fans of Neil (Young) in particular, but maybe some other artists as well, and those donations may be whatever -- whatever they can afford. We've received two dollars in the mail. We value the fan base greatly, they've been constant supporters since the beginning, and I would never want them to feel that somehow what they can afford is not meaningful. We do have a lofty goal -- we're trying to raise around 40 million dollars -- and there are a variety of ways for people to help support the endowment.
You mentioned the global impact. How have you seen that?
It's been quite amazing. We have our international teacher-in-residence program, which right now I think we're on our 12th year of running that program -- and that is an application process and it's a scholarship program. And a teacher professional from a developing country comes and works and lives alongside the Bridge School staff and students, and one of the criteria for them to come to Bridge and receive this scholarship is that they have a support system in place when they return. So that they can then begin to implement Bridge School methodologies and technologies when they return.
In fact, we just had a -- I didn't go, but it was up in Toronto -- there was an international society for the augmentative and alternative communications community, and I believe at least eight of our teachers and residents were there. And they're representing Poland and Singapore and Mexico and South Africa and India...South Korea. And when we do the reciprocal visit, and I must say I am using the royal "we" here, because all I see are pictures when the team returns, but we hold conferences and hold workshops and work with the teams to troubleshoot what issues they might be encountering when they return to their home countries. Certain areas are just more remote than others -- they don't have access to some of the benefits we have from being so close to Silicon Valley.
And of course our web site -- it's one of our most essential means of reaching out to the global community. We have the Building Bridges Camp, which is not restricted to students who have attended Bridge School, and (it's there) for either when the kids are ready or when the parents are ready (laughs). Sometimes it's a little of both. (laughing) And it's also a training institute, so the professionals who come and attend with the camper, they are taught how to enable access to curriculum, and, really, enable participation. And we do it in a fun, campy environment; it's really an opportunity for kids just to be kids. Our kids tend to go to school, go to therapy appointments, you know...it's really important to have a balanced life, and we're really aware of that.
What about some of the success stories? I am curious to hear about those.
Three or four of our students now have graduated from college, and I've been to every one of their graduations with huge pride of a mother hen for seeing success that these students have enjoyed -- that once they have left Bridge, there is a continuum of success. One student graduated with a double degree, and she is going back to get her Master's next fall. But she, April, has been coming back to the Bridge School and doing a mentoring program for our younger kids, which is really helpful. Because these younger kids can see a future. And April's a terrific advocate. Always was. Since she came to the Bridge School at 7 or 8, we knew she was going to be a fearless leader -- she just has that quality.
And then there are other kids who have followed more of a vocational path. For instance, our son, Ben, who is a very successful organic egg farmer. He's been running the operation now, oh gosh, a good 10 years, if not longer. He goes down to the local Farmer's Market every Saturday morning, sells his eggs, and they sell like hot cakes because they're the best eggs in town. And I'm not just saying that (laughs). You know when you buy eggs in a grocery store, and even when you buy them from a good organic source, you notice the yolks are kind of pale? Ben's eggs are nuclear orange. (laughs) Because they're just so fresh, you know? Some of them have been laid that morning.
The typical profile of our kids is a diagnosis of cerebral palsy, so they do most often have pretty significant physical impairments, and they all have what we call complex communication needs, so they do rely on augmented communication to be generally understood by unfamiliar communication partners.
Pegi, I was at Wrigley Field in August for Pearl Jam, and they had Steve Gleason, who is in a wheelchair and uses augmented communication, on stage before they played "Inside Job." He gave a heartfelt speech...
Oh wow. Please send me that.
I will. Just wanted to mention it since Eddie Vedder and Pearl Jam have been such an important part of the Bridge School Concerts over the years.
Eddie's such a dear friend of the Bridge School. He's gotten to know the kids over the years -- well beyond, "hey, I'm here to play for the weekend," and then go on about his business. He had kids, obviously, over the period of time he's been playing. His eldest daughter is friends with one of our students -- her family moved up to Washington state. It's been neat to watch. You now, Dave Grohl, and Beck, and some of the other "young guys" when they started, now have families of their own, and their kids are friends with our kids.
The 30th Annual Bridge School Benefit Concert is this weekend, October 22 & October 23, 2016.
I first heard the album with friends in the back of a minivan. We were in Rockford, Illinois, keeping warm from the cold morning wind, about an hour from trying out for the Illinois State Select soccer team. The rain was hitting the windshield. We were wearing shin guards and cleats. Our muscles were tight from the ride up. But our minds were released in that minivan. The rest of the day wasn't so cold. We all made it.
Ten was the album that convinced me that music was the spark, the window to something greater. A glowing conduit leading away from doubt. I needed it then. And I need it now.
To me, Pearl Jam concerts are what everything live music should be. The set list is never the same. I've written this before, but it can't be said enough: a performance of "Alive" or "Black" is never the same. The venues, of course, change from city to city -- arenas, stadiums...and then there's sacred ground like Wrigley Field in Chicago, home of the Chicago Cubs, a place where Pearl Jam scheduled two shows to close out their 2016 tour, the second of which is happening tonight.
Context: Eddie Vedder is a Cubs fan. He sat with Theo Epstein during a few Cubs playoff games last October, before leaving for a South American tour. And he even told reporters that, from then on, he would never tour again during Major League Baseball playoffs.
So these shows are special. Even if Vedder were a Cardinals fan or a White Sox fan, these shows would still be. Case in point, Pearl Jam played two shows at Fenway Park in Boston earlier this month, and from everything I read, they were epic three-hour performances.
I am a Cardinals fan first and White Sox fan second. Yet, Wrigley Field means everything to me. Growing up in the 80s and 90s, my brother and I would watch Cubs games on WGN -- we thought the ivy was cool, and we looked up to Andre Dawson and Ryne Sandberg, collecting their baseball cards, even hanging a Dawson poster in our bedroom. He was the Hawk, man.
So I thought of all that before the show on Saturday night at Wrigley Field. I walked in a back entrance, through a metal detector, into those old, narrow Wrigley Field corridors that lead to the seats (the sign said "STAIR," not "STAIRS"), and then the field. I stood five feet from the ivy and bleachers. I walked on the warning track. I looked toward home plate with thousands of fans finding their seats. Wow!
Three years ago, I attended Pearl Jam's first-ever show at Wrigley, but that was marred by a two-hour plus rain delay, after the band had already performed seven songs. The momentum was lost, making the experience more of a feat of endurance as opposed to a show that blew me away.
On Saturday night, Pearl Jam blew me away. Completely. My mind will be there for weeks.
The second song, "Release," was probably the best live-music moment I've witnessed this year. While the song was being started, Vedder took a moment to address the audience:
"Last time (in 2013) it felt like a once in a lifetime experience. When the lightning hit today I thought we were gonna have the same experience again but it looks like the weather is on our side.” He then made eye contact with a fan named John. "Four days, He lined up four days ago to hear this song. He has been going through some hard times. We wanna help him out so help us sing it.."
They sang. Man, did they sing.
If I never hear an audience sing again, I can at least say I heard Pearl Jam fans sing "Release" with Eddie Vedder...from the photo pit, no less! I can't tell you how many times I listened to this song in high school, sitting in the back of a school bus, traveling home from Bloomington or Champaign, thinking that I wasn't good enough, my confidence wavering with each passing mile. But that song lifted me up. And 20 plus years later, there I was: singing it while photographing the man who led the charge. I'm still having a hard time believing that actually happened.
But it happened. And it kept happening.
As I walked out of the photo pit, around the crowd of people singing along to "Elderly Woman Behind The Counter in a Small Town," I passed the Cubs' dugout, strolled behind home plate. The words were ringing: "I just want to scream...helllo! My God it's been so long, never dreamed you'd return!"
I wanted to stop, soak it all in...just lay down behind home plate and live there for a few hours. If I could bottle up that feeling in a video and carry it with me for the rest of my days, I would, maybe so I could show people why I keep coming back. It's that feeling. I haven't found it anywhere else. I suppose I never will.
I'd rather not do a play-by-play, so I'll talk about two other moments that stood out.
One was during a cover of Bob Dylan's "Masters of War," a folk song turned into an impossible explosion by guitarist Mike McCready. The man abused his guitar, making sounds I've never heard, completely obliterating its strings, its body, its being. Even Dylan himself would have approved of what McCready was doing with his song. A convulsion. A statement that McCready is one of the best living guitarists in the world. His talents echoed Dylan's words:
You’ve thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain’t worth the blood
That runs in your veins
And he kept doing it during "Even Flow," "Corduroy," "Alive," and countless others. The man does not know what "going through the motions" means; he's in constant evolving motion -- playing behind his back, closing his eyes, ripping through solos with Usain Bolt-like confidence and power.
But there was another person who upstaged him and everyone else on this evening: McCready's friend, Steve Gleason.
Gleason, as you may know, was a former safety in the NFL with the New Orleans Saints, and also responsible for arguably the biggest moment in post-Katrina Saints history: he blocked a punt, leading to a touchdown, at the New Orleans Superdome, in the team's first game back home after the city recovered from the hurricane's devastation. He was a light to the city then, and he's a blazing source of inspiration now.
He was also diagnosed with ALS in 2011. I want to make this very clear: I have no idea what Steve Gleason battles day-to-day, and it's not for me to act like I understand. But, Steve, know this: you made me and everyone around me -- thousands and thousands of people -- think about a certain lyric as you introduced "Inside Job" from the stage.
Here's his introduction:
The lyric?
How I choose to feel is how I am.
I'll remember that. I'll take it with me.
And now, more than ever, I'm extremely grateful to learn about about life from people like Steve Gleason and Pearl Jam.
Don't take it for granted. Don't throw it away.
Do not lose your faith.
How I choose to feel is how I am.
Set list
Low Light
Release
Rain
Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town
Do the Evolution
Last Exit
Lightning Bolt
Sad
Amongst the Waves
Even Flow
Light Years
I Got Id
Mind Your Manners
Unthought Known
Masters of War
I Am a Patriot
Daughter
Jeremy
Better Man
Encore 1
Bee Girl
Just Breathe
I Believe in Miracles
Let Me Sleep
Inside Job
Comfortably Numb
Interstellar Overdrive
Corduroy
Porch
And I wonder When I sing along with you If everything could ever feel this real forever If anything could ever be this good again
I remember hearing about Kurt Cobain's death. My cousin and I were driving toward Lake Springfield in Illinois, and the news came on the radio -- WYMG, I think. That's how we got our notifications in the '90s: we had to wait and we had to listen. Things were often spontaneous, and news was often sudden and cold; somehow hearing things and reading them on a screen are two different things. Suicide? A note? I did not understand. I'll never understand.
1994. I loved Nirvana. I loved Pearl Jam. At the time, I didn't really know the name Dave Grohl. I knew there was a drummer in Nirvana. Names, though: there was nowhere to search for names -- you learned about them in liner notes in CD booklets. Those inserts are not valued today, but I studied that shit growing up. How I ever missed Grohl's name, I don't know. I do know I missed it because I never paid attention to the band that Grohl formed after Nirvana. That band was and still is Foo Fighters.
20+ years have gone by, and Grohl didn't have to be in St. Louis last night. There is no good reason why he had to be sitting in a throne, with one pant leg ripped off, other than because, as he told us, "I have the best job in the world."
Still, though. He could have easily taken some kind of insurance deal (you lawyers can weigh in here), re-scheduled his band's world tour, and re-filled his oxycontin prescription. And everyone everywhere would have been like, "Okay, cool, Dave! We love you!"
But Dave Grohl didn't do that. He found a way to carry on. When he injured his ankle/leg in Sweden, he took a shot of Crown Royal and finished the show sitting down while a man he had just met kept his ankle in place. Then, only after having to cancel a few shows, he drew up a figure of a throne -- he wanted "lazers and shit shooting from the top." And last night, there he was.
When I had a third ear surgery in May, the last thing I did the night before was watch Grohl and the Foo Fighters perform "Everlong" for David Letterman on his final show. It was Letterman's favorite song, and the words hit home for me:
And I wonder When I sing along with you If everything could ever feel this real forever If anything could ever be this good again The only thing I'll ever ask of you You gotta promise not to stop when I say when Is it ever going to be like before? And how long must we wait in perpetual doubt? How long? I tell ya: sometimes I just don't know.
The Foo Fighters opened with "Everlong" last night, and an immediate wave of chills shot through me. I used to believe in signs and all that shit, and maybe I still do, but regardless: there Dave Grohl was, in real life, recovering from his own injury, singing this enormous song. I don't care if you dislike Grohl or the Foo Fighters: that was a beautiful display of incredible resilience and pride.
"I didn't finish high school because I had to hit the fucking road, man!" Grohl later told us. This was after a spirited "Monkey Wrench," an acoustic "My Hero," and a medley of Van Halen covers to which Grohl referred to as the "keg party" portion of the show. The show finally ended -- after about two and a half hours -- with a rousing "Best of You," which led into a cover of AC/DC's "Let There Be Rock."
I thought to myself: A few years ago I witnessed Kings of Leon walk off the stage after three songs because of an alleged pigeon that was literally shitting on the band.
And then there's Dave Grohl, broken leg and all, whose mere presence absolutely guided his band through hits and covers and keg parties.
It was clear: the honor wasn't for the 17,000 to be witnessing Grohl play and sing. It was an honor for Grohl to be doing his job.
