On Ten, Pearl Jam — descended from the late, lamented Mother Love Bone —
hurtles into the mystic at warp speed. Singer-lyricist Eddie
Vedder sometimes lets his words get way ahead
of his good intentions: “I don’t question/Our existence/I just question/Our
modern needs” (“Garden”). Focus instead on his voice — a ragged, enraged
mongrel blend of Robert Plant and James Hetfield — and the Pearls’ surprising,
and refreshing, melodic restraint. They wring a lot of drama out of a few
declarative power chords swimming in echo. ~David Fricke Rolling Stone
1991.
Usually these reviews are usually less personal, but this is one of the albums that I can count on one hand that I can remember when I bought it, when I listened to it, and an album that I can hear in my head from first to last note without hitting play on the stereo. 1991 was a weird time personally and musically. I was 13, my father had passed a year earlier, musically there was a strange shift happening that Classic Rock or hair metal could not fill within me. I just didn’t know what was going to fill that void.
13 and angry, scared, confused and along comes this album that sounded like I felt. A bit quiet, unsure, heartbroken, but angry as hell and ready to take on the world. It was one of the albums I recall buying in the CD long box and the act of listening to it was more of a ritual, as was the process for any new album, especially in the phenomenal music release year of 1991. My room had a strange Pacific Northwest meets NYC studio vibe (I dare say, not bad for 13). Mood lighting, a breeze blowing the vertical blinds. I hit play expecting songs more like Alive, a song that was released before the album (very clever).
It was like nothing I had ever heard, but also had a familiar
Now about how this masterpiece came to be.
Following the shocking death of Andrew Wood, the band wanted to start something new and started looking for a singer for the new band, Mookie Blaylock. Armed with instrumental demos, former Red Hot Chili Peppers drummer Jack Irons knew exactly who to sell the band to: a surfer friend who was working at a gas station in San Diego – Eddie Vedder. So now you have a band still reeling from the loss of their True North and a singer who is young, angry, creatively impassioned, and ready to get out of the gate. With demo in his mind, Eddie went surfing and came up with the lyrics to what would become Alive and Once.
Recorded in less than a month due to the fast that many songs were complete because they were demos started by Gossard, McCready, and Ament, but then gaps filled with Eddie’s lyrics.
And while we hear perfection, the band hears overproduction: In subsequent years, band members have expressed dissatisfaction with the way the album's mixing turned out. In 2001, Ament said, "I'd love to remix Ten. Ed, for sure, would agree with me. It wouldn't be like changing performances; just pull some of the reverb off it."* In 2006, Vedder said, "I can listen to the early records [except] the first record...it's just the sound of the record. It was kind of mixed in a way that was...it was kind of produced."**
What has given Ten the staying power and the honor of being considered one of the top grunge albums since its release on August 27th, 1991? It has a timeless feel that arrived at the moment when many kids my age were looking for something new. The whole world had changed and shifted seemingly overnight - communism was going away, the Soviet Union collapsed, the innocence that many of us had felt in the 80’s was exchanged for uncertainty and angst. We were also going to save the world. The Cold War kids had emerged victorious and we wanted to snowboard and skateboard, shun the expected, and silo our teenage emotions into angry, flannel covered, Doc Marten wearing music. The album was such a new complex sound for many of us filled with anger and true sentiment while Eddie screamed the way we all wanted to.
But also, this album is a memory Polaroid of sorts. When you hear the first notes of Once, the bass of Jeremy, or the slide into Porch, you're transported to a specific point of time in the universe. Sitting in your darkened room, your refuge, where plans are made to change the world, individuality is sacred, and feelings are so overwhelming. All of that is channeled into Stone's guitar that screams the opening chords to Alive, the meditative Oceans, or not really understanding the heartbreak in Black, but damn, you wish that song was written for you. Listening to Ten now allows us to reflect on how little we knew and how not super complex things really were for us juxtaposed to the politics of the world at the time.
