Set List: Corduroy, Hail Hail, Brain of J., Even Flow, Given To Fly, Do The Evolution, Wishlist, Better Man/(Save It For Later) dedicated to Bill Clinton

Photo credit: Sher Menhart (pearllover@aol.com)

LispyDiva (lispydiva@aol.com)
OK so I was there for one reason only, to see Pearl Jam. I've seen them before but I was convinced I'd see them closer than I ever have. However, before they even played, I was right up front to see REM (opposite of the stage Eddie and the guys were going to play on). As I was watching REM I noticed that at the back of the stage to the right, arms flung over the metal bars that made the stage was Eddie himself. It was great, I pretty much watched him the whole time, but for me what did it was when REM started "Man on the Moon" I could see Eddie singing to himself along with Michael in his own little space slightly away from the other people. I believe he watched all of REM's set. For the few minutes that "Man on The Moon" lasted, it was probably the most peaceful for me, and maybe Ed as well.

BTylor (btylor@aol.com)
A blast from a security guard's morning bullhorn sprays across the front lawn at the main entrance to RFK stadium, DC, and calls out: "Beas-tee Boys ... and Pearl Jam ...will be the last to perform ... today ... the final artists will be the Beas-tee Boys and Pearl Jam." That was a needed wake-up call for PJ fans. A reassuring message of pure adrenalin after one skittish rain-soaked day and the subsequent chaos that stirred at the scheduling "pot" of the bands that had yet to take their turn on this monumental occasion.

With that loud and crackly announcement, the hour glass of sand (figuratively speaking) had been turned on its head. It was Sunday, the Holy Sabbath, and for the nearly 130 thousand young and old gathered here this weekend the clock started ticking, time began slipping away, bringing us closer, passing the many hours to endure to witness the early evening performance featuring Eddie's insightful, impassioned pathos on stage, and his "Five Against One (was the "one" China?) supporting cast.

Enough has been written on the suspect "intent" of anyone taking part in the nationally reknown Free Tibet benefit concert, which this year was hosted in the nation's murder capitol. By taking a "slice" poll of the teenager-dominated attendees, serious doubt would be cast as to just how deep the purpose of Freeing Tibet was felt. No one that I could tell lost a minute of sleep on this day, nor will they in the many moving forward, for the fate of the confusing - and tragic - phenomenon happening to Tibetans, the persecuted, versus Chinese, the oppressors.

But about the following there is little ambiguity: Free Tibet, or Save Tibet (depending which marching order to which you adhere) is a potent catalyst for convening some of Jazz, Rock and Rap's most prominent performers, and uniting a bunch of free-spirited music-lovers who for most of the day-and-a-half shook their hips to the beat, sang out the words to the songs and swayed their bodies gently, despite the heavy hand of having it all in the name of reinstilling human rights in a land far, far away.

"In Ireland, we call the Protestants against the Catholics the 'issue that has no solution'," is how one local commentator reacted to the recent "vote Yes" campaign in Ireland. And in that spirit, perhaps the best that could be said is that with a magnanimous benefit such as the 1998 Free Tibet show, achieving peace and some bit of influence was prodded along at one promising step.

To that point, Eddie Vedder at the waning hours of the day took stage and muscled to the microphone. He began his hair-raising-remarks-to-the-crowd routine (for the introverted Ed, I can tell you some of his most profound soundbites are borne from the impromptu remarks between songs, stream of consciousnesses at its best). Thus, he injected:

"You know, some asshole came to me earlier in the day and asked me if all this makes any difference. And I said I've got no fucking idea, I don't give a fuck. You know, we have your money now and this event, this weekend alone, will give the Milarepa Fund a year - maybe two - to do what they can to get something done."

As dedicated as Pearl Jam is to this cause, Eddie must be equally as tired at the doubt and second guessing of the show's credibility. And his tone was that of, "I've had enough... Jesus, we are not soothsayers or witch doctors ... but, this event gives us something to work with." Which is consistent with Eddie's philosophy. For in interviews, the new "Yield" Vedder can be heard being delighted at the prospect of growing old, and "drawing" from older people who have done something with their lives. Conversely, he sighs at and frowns on today's youth who are prone to just complain about this or that and not do anything. The threads of an Ed outspoken against those who favor bitching instead of seeking "off-ramps toward solutions" (again, to quote Ed) can be seen woven into his very deliberate delivery with reporters, and the traces of this grown-up outlook on life are detectable in his dialect, which dovetailed nicely with his pointed remarks and inspired vocal delivery tonight.

But before I complete my perspective of Eddie's absolutely alive performance, and his shrewd witticisms on the pulpit, a quick build-up is in order.

We, the Pearl Jam faithful, will find this axiomatic, but it must be mentioned; when Pearl Jam arrrives in town the love between us simply flows. On this occasion, despite the draw of thousands paying homage to their own special music flavor - - and the organizers had every taste for everyone accommodated - with Pearl Jam fans there is a distinct, nearly palpable synergy, and the ties that bring us to a concert site surely intensifies as if magnetic when caste with others into this ecclectic mix. We have the astute glare in our eyes, and the passion is damn near intimidating.

I traveled with such a devout pack.

The prospect of meeting Eddie Vedder back in March is what brought me out to LA from DC alone (see Shrine event fanview 3), and this time around a fan from the Shrine event flip flopped the routine and came into Washington at 5:48 AM on a red eye Saturday. Her Pearl Jam fanship is a unique and powerful tale, having lost a car in a deer accident en route to a Pearl Jam concert years ago. Luckily, this go around the plane was clear of any deer and PJ, when her plane touched ground, was in her pupils. At one point during the show, she placed a paper Pepsi cup filled with warm water and gin on the ground (we smuggled in miniature alchohol bottles, RFK being beer-repellent), and left me to go disappear into the mosh pit sometime in the afternoon, Pearl Jam being just two bands away.

Both days, she and I were enjoined by an esteemed and electric young woman, who gets my vote for the "Maryland bureau chief" of Pearl Jam fandom. What might get your vote too is that she owns and runs a local hair stylist salon she named "Curl Jam," and hosted a pre-concert pep rally with a sprinkling of Pearl Jam fans - all of whom sported very handsome hair I might add, each being clients of this wizard with scissors and Pearl Jam devoutee extraordinaire. And get this: "Mr. Curl Jam," Curl Jam owner's husband, was the official Free Tibet back-stage masseuse for the artists performing at RFK. And her doctor was the offical on-site physician to the bands while in DC.

A thick irony lingered in the air, its spell began with the group "Live," and came to a head when Pearl Jam graced the stage. Dripping from the lips of Live's lead singer would be a foreshadowing that made one's blood quiver. How could he have know that the lyrics "lightning crashes, and old mother cryeeeyes. It's the moment, she's been wai-ting for," would be lived-out later that same day. There was a collective catching of the breath when in section 111, darkened by dark clouds overhead, was suddenly pierced by a searing streak of electricity and pounced on a young student holding a cellular phone. Frying her, the storm would dance across the field and injure ten others on the in-field that must've looked like a bullseye for the white lines pelting down from the charcoal clouds up above.

The next day, with daylight hours fleeing from us, the sky began to shadow as dusk took its seat within the stadium. After a raucous Beastie Boys, the hand of denoument took place and Pearl Jam graced the stage swiftly. Bam! . . . sent bolts of intensity far greater than Mother Nature had in all her cruel agitation on Saturday.

Well, I will speak selfishly as a man who came just to see Pearl Jam. Eddie Vedder's words just grabbed me by my throat when he shouted with a crack: "The waiting drove me mad." Corderoy was as riveting a jam as the group could put together. Vedder donned his signature black jeans (whatever happened to the army-issued green shorts?), a black tee short and short sleeve red stripped shirt, unbuttoned.

Vedder highlights follow:
- while setting up Brain of J, Eddie, with appreciation in his soft tone, affectionately introduced: "This song, this next song is one that Michael wrote..." and at that, a plastic bottle was thrown onto the stage and whacked Eddie in the forearm. Unexpected and clearly catching Eddie off guard, there was a dead calm. A) it happened so fast that it was unclear whether or not Eddie was seriously hurt, B) in light of the lightning tragedy I needn't say how raw the nerves were for our star's safety and c) he channeled his frustration into his strained vocals, the anger fueled his rage-induced beginning line, "Whhhhooooose got the Brain of JFK ..."

- The body language - if Eddie has any thespian qualities, they were all unleashed when interpreting the song with a slick sway and artful hand motions when getting off on "Given to Fly." You can tell he is big-time proud of this tricky lick. Most profound moment in the song was an intentional pause, and he looked around - "cause he wanted to share, this key to the locks on the chains he saw (looks around) evvveeryywherrrre." He dragged out that last word and it was poetic, an appropriate emphasis in a song with heavy religious overtures.

On a day that was intertwined with spirituality, with those in exile as the messengers, Given to Fly peppered the air with a soulful spirituality that blended in with all the day was about.

- Eddie has lost his tan. Long gone are the days of Maui - - welcome to east coast in-door performances ... the boys are working hard, the pallor of their skin shows it.

Confusion took over on the stage. Eddie paced back and forth like a jaguar from band member to band member...nodding his head, gesturing with his hands. Grabbing the microphone, he clued-in the crowd: "You, you see - it can be difficult for band members to do so much as change a song in the set. You know, imagine what it's like for entire countries to get it together and come to grips with decisions like Freeing Tibet. (sic)." Even Flow was next, and a nostalgia back to the days of the unruly debut of Ten popped out, the energy and the vibrant delivery sparked a cheer and unwavering motion from the endeared crowd.

History was made. None of this weekend's events can be overlooked. This draining, and yet exhilerating 48 hours had wrought a pivitol series of events in our global village. Lightning nearly took the life of one of our young, the Chicago Bulls captured its astonishing sixth national NBA championships in this decade ending an unprecedented sports franchise dominance in a city that boasts being the hometown of our very own Eddie V, and the impact of Free Tibet 98 on a seemingly insurmountable human rights campaign cannot be measured.

When Flea of the Red Hot Chili Peppers yanked the microphone, during the Chili's shocking surprise appearance at the REAL end of the night, he spoke for all Ten fan Club members when he interrupted the music's energetic flow and stated calmly:

"We want to thank Pearl Jam for giving up their set time that allowed us to play these few songs."

Eddie was somewhere back stage, but the muscle and energy of a memorable PJ performance still pumped through our veins - and, you know, right then, these rock star brethren in the limelight, bowing to the others for time to play, showed some real class, respect and unselfishness from which China could take some lessons. Special thanks to Kramer, Jess, Curl Jam, Katie, Jonathan and which-way-to-Lancaster Scott.

Can Leatherman Free Tibet?