Every few years or so, as Pearl Jam prepare for the grand unveiling of their latest opus, everyone gets re-inundated with PR promises of the old grunge gods breaking free from their self-imposed confines for a grand "return to form," and told that, "No, really, this time they've proven themselves as something more than a just the band that launched a thousand Candleboxes." Yet, while Pearl Jam have outlasted virtually all of their grunge contemporaries, they've hardly ever strayed from the classicist approach that brought them into the rock world back in '91.
Riot Act, their seventh and most recent album, perpetuates the notion that Pearl Jam is a tremendous rock band, despite their catalog's evidence to the contrary. Like communism, Pearl Jam is as good as it gets in theory, but it never quite seems to work out in practice: They're a hard working and talented group who use their fame to champion causes that are dear to them-- even when that means alienating fans and fighting unwinnable wars against corporate giants-- and they take full advantage of their major label status (and dollars) by circumventing traditional ways of thinking about the band/fan relationship. Through fan-club-only Christmas seven-inches and that entire tour's worth of live releases, Pearl Jam have attempted to prove that recording for the majors doesn't have to be synonymous with MTV pandering. If only their music brimmed with the creativity of their business practices.
Since 1998's Yield, Pearl Jam have relied on an unchanging musical formula, consistently declining the opportunity to innovate or improve their sound, even while hinting that they could if they could be assured it wouldn't completely tank. Since the genre-defining Ten, the band has given us occasional glimpses at something more unique-- most notably on Vitalogy, a wonderful, reactionary mess of an album, and then with the diverse No Code, and even Yield's Eastern-tinged bonus track-- but mostly, they've settled for traditional rock riffs and general coasting. Riot Act sadly exemplifies this, bringing them ever closer to homogenous bar-band territory.
The record peaks early on the opener "Can't Keep", a three-guitar gallop that immediately strikes as fresh in contrast to the band's other recent work. Eddie Vedder seldom pens a melody this original, and the song's gloomy, atmospheric production compensates for the bored musicianship. From there, however, Riot Act meanders from one song to the next with an overwhelming insipidness. The devastated lyrics of "Love Boat Captain", which mourns the tragic deaths of nine fans at the June 2000 Roskilde Festival, are affecting, but the song itself is a standard rocker, which seems an odd choice to accompany Vedder's poetic remorse.
Riot Act does momentarily pick up as it nears its end. "Greendisease" is the closest to new wave Pearl Jam has ever come, and the Jeff Ament-penned "Help Help" passes on the simple fact that it sounds at least somewhat different from the band's archetypal rock'n'roll sound, and breaks the monotony of an otherwise barren collection of songs.
Of course, what'll likely stick with you after the disc stops spinning is the unbearable lows. The mechanical, pulsating guitar arpeggios of "You Are" almost seem to cop from Trans-era Neil Young until you realize that it'd set a nice ambiance for a semi-truck barreling down a highway in Stallone's Over the Top. Worse still is "Bushleaguer", a near-rap about D.C.'s current policy makers. Vedder's intentions here are admirable, but it's difficult to imagine the execution failing any more miserably. His delivery is painfully snide, served up with snotty, ain't-I-witty attitude, and the lyrics, which clearly aim for a grittier mentality than typical Pearl Jam fare ("Swingin' for the fence/ Got lucky with a strike/ Drilling for fear makes the job simple/ Born on third, thinks he got a triple") come off more Springsteen than Fugazi.
Everywhere else on Riot Act, Pearl Jam sound like they're supposed to, with their usual distortion-powered riffs and stadium drums banging alongside Vedder's emotionally damaged mumbling. And though it's hard, even now, not to root for them, this album has sadly not upped their relistenability.
