Saw Pearl Jam Last Night

Last night I went to see Pearl Jam at the United Center. I've never seen them before, and I have to say that they put on a good show.

The evening started out at a bar in Little Italy called Hawkeye's, which, despite the name, was seemingly not an Iowa bar. Anyway, the cast of characters included Ryan "Pissed Off" Christoff, his buddies Jeff and Kurt, and Matt "Don't Call Me Gazelle" Gsell. Also joining us at Hawkeye's, but sitting other seats at the show, were Jeff "Don't Call Me Daughter" Chambers and Andy "Not the Former Lead Singer of Mother Love Bone" Wood.

Hawkeye's had a shuttle bus to the United Center, which was great, especially since they let you drink on the bus. Aaron, our bus driver, had little respect for human life or red lights. We got to the UC in 5 minutes.

We decided to skip the opening band, My Morning Jacket. Nothing against them or anything, but the less time we had to spend $7 on a beer and the longer we could spend $6 on a pitcher, the better.

I was happy to finally see Pearl Jam. I think they are the closest thing to the Beatles for late Gen-X and early Gen-Y. I remember the first time I ever heard "Jeremy" back in August 1991. It was at about 5am and I was sleeping over at my friend -- you guessed it -- Jeremy's house in beautiful Coal City, Illinois. After a solid night of soft porn on Skinemax, we turned MTV on, where the "Jeremy" video came on. Obviously we were pumped, since it was about a guy named Jeremy.

In general, I hated alternative and grunge music when it came out because it threatened the sanctity of hair band music. So I wasn't really that much into Pearl Jam for their first several albums, save for a couple songs ("Alive," "Yellow Ledbetter," for instance). Finally I came around when I was in late high school/early college, which I think made me appreciate their music more than I would have if I liked it when it was first released.

Anyway, I was glad to finally get the chance to see them live. The show was great. "Release" was the first song, which was a pretty solid start.

Our seats were in the club level, about even with the stage. Even better, we were right behind a railing that was overlooking the seating for the differently abled, which was right next to the section entrance, which meant that there was no one in front of us to obstruct our view. There was about a 5-foot drop, which meant that we didn't have to walk to get to the entrance. Ryan's first drop ended with him on his back, having fallen onto the braces of the nice man with MS who was in the disabled seating. Way to go, Ryan.

But I digress. The band was looking a bit unkempt. Eddie Vedder, bless his heart, was sporting a beard that made him look like Charles Manson. Jeff Ament was wearing capri pants, which I'll let slide once since he plays a totally wicked bass. Mike McCready was overenthused for the whole show (coked-up, I assume), despite the fact that his hair looked like a bird had shit on it.

Despite the ban on smoking in the United Center, many people were lighting up, including at least one person with us. In other news, during the time between the first set and the first encore, I went to the bathroom (on my way, I did not fall onto anyone's braces or crutches), where there was actually a guy taking a shit. Must have been dire straits. Everyone in the bathroom felt for him.

The first encore started with an Eddie-only version of "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away," before which he said that his favorite Beatle was Yoko. A chorus of boos ensued.

The second encore included a rousing rendition of "Baba O'Riley," and I think Ryan creamed in his pants. They turned the lights on somewhat during the song, which made for a great view of everyone totally rocking out.

After the show, we boarded the bus back to Hawkeye's, and Aaron continued his reign of terror on red lights. We had another pitcher and Ryan inhaled some dang quesadillas (which are made with cheese, Kyla).

Jeff then headed back out to Naperville. Ryan and I caught a cab back to the LP. Meanwhile, Kurt, who lives in Bucktown, made his way back to the Blue line, but fell asleep and almost woke up at O'Hare (for those of you unfamiliar with the Blue line, that's about 12-14 stops too far). Luckily he was not robbed, raped, or stabbed in the chest by a co-worker.

When I returned home, I was greeted by a lovely little note left from my adoring wife. It read:
"Good night hon,
And if you're drunk, don't wake me up and tell me about the concert . . . I don't care. I'll hear about it tomorrow.
Love you,
Me."

Love you too, Jester.