Thank You Darryl

I visited Germany this week for the first time and it felt like the light flickering between the trees had scrambled my brain somehow. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced such a culture shock, no English written or spoken left me feeling hopelessly lost and even more of an imbecile than usual. Thankfully I was not alone on this trip, my fiancée is fluent but I often found myself sitting quietly while she chatted away before storming off charged with some secret knowledge she’d obtained but forgotten to share. We were staying in East Berlin, with its quiet wide roads, peaceful squares and graffitied ruins. A place abandoned or given over to tourists and cyclists, nothing but hotels and churches and empty spaces. It may have felt eerie had the weather not been so fine, the wind from the river so refreshing and the t-shirts so familiar. We were, after all, not the only ones here to see Pearl Jam on their tour of Europe, it would be my fifth show and the first time seeing them outside of the UK. I was more than a little excited, but before that we had the morning to explore, unknowingly crossing back and forth between east and west with only the occasional wall panel evoking the ghost of division. Once grey and formidable, now nothing more than a series of sporadic canvases for street artists and vandals alike. Vibrantly defeated and humiliated with thousands of pieces of used chewing gum.
We got to the woods early that afternoon and enjoyed a Bratwurst, bending out at each end of a tiny white bun, while we stood at the gates to the Wuhlheide. A few hundred fans had also turned out early, keen to get down in front of the stage or be first in line at the merchandise stand. We’d simply got the opening times wrong by a couple of hours, a very happy accident as over the hill in front of us Pearl Jam could be heard sound checking. A private unseen show was put on for the few hundred hardcore and a little taster of what was to come. Everybody looked oddly blasé as the sound of Push Me Pull Me and Love Boat Captain came and went on the breeze, it felt a little unfair being on the wrong side of the gates as excitement began to mix with impatience. Then we were in. The Hyde Park show in London was an ocean of people, but here we were in this small pond surrounded by trees, the sun lazily contemplating its ark while we debated how many beers it would be sensible to drink. Sat a few rows up on Mike’s side it dawned on me how close we were to the stage, something I never expected from an outdoor venue without the drama of being in the standing crowds down the front. I was starting to feel a little spoilt, especially when I was handed a beer and a large white tube containing the show poster. Everything was perfectly set, the bowl slowly filled up with fans as Ben Harper blues’ed through some tunes and we were treated to an early visit from Ed on a storming version of Under Pressure. Its safe to say expectations were high.
A Mexican wave rolled around, strangers with green wristbands chatted like old friends in different accents about their dream set lists and far away places, but all conversation was suddenly interrupted and forgotten by music and a roar. On came the boys and Ed bravely attempted some brief but heartfelt German.
Long Road, Got Some, Why Go, Given To Fly, Small Town, Push Me Pull Me, Immortality, In Hiding, Even Flow, Johnny Guitar, Corduroy, Light Years, Gonna See My Friend, World Wide Suicide, Low Light, Comatose, Do The Evolution. Guitars were switched lightening fast, plectrum showers rained down, Mike and Jeff ran crazy circles around each other as Stone rocked from foot to foot. The 10pm week day curfew had put some serious pace behind the proceedings and Ed teased the crowd (and I expect the event organisers) that this thing was going to be a long one.
The first encore started out with a wonderful one-two acoustic punch of The End and Just Breathe. Ed talked about how the bands first love was not for a dog or for a girl and launched into Spin The Black Circle and a cover of the PIL track Public Image. The Fixer got the crowd back and then Peter Buck & Scott McCaughey from REM joined them for Kick Out The Jams. Apparently they were recording their new album in Berlin so decided to pay a surprise visit. They certainly done kicked them out.
Second encore began with crowd clap accompanied Unthought Known into a beautiful version of Black. The do do do do do do dos continued long after the song ended and Ed seemed to be soaking up every single wave of energy that was being thrown at him, building himself up for what had yet to be mentioned. The elephant in the room. The ten year anniversary of the Roskilde tragedy. Ten years to the very day that 9 fans were crushed to death during a Pearl Jam concert. Ed broke down and Stone came over to console him, a moment of silence was observed and then they had to try and keep it together, struggling though a heart wrenching rendition of Come Back. It was beyond moving and I’m choking up again now thinking about it. Alive, the song they avoided playing for so long after the tragedy, followed and then Yellow Ledbetter closed the show. It felt like the light flickering between the trees had scrambled my brain somehow.