Pearl Jam Brought 'Something Different' to Its Fort Worth Debut

Two songs in, as “Footsteps” drew to a close, Eddie Vedder addressed the elephant in the room.

From the relatively spartan stage in Dickies Arena, where Pearl Jam was making its first-ever Fort Worth appearance and its first North Texas stop in nearly a decade, he uncorked a lengthy monologue touching upon, among other things, exactly why the band — famous for its electrifying live performances — was seated and somewhat sedate.

“Tonight is gonna be a little different,” Vedder told the crowd. “We had two options: The show was gonna be different, or there was not gonna be a show. We’re going for different, and we’re basing it on the relationship we have with you out there.”

Vedder went on to explain the largely health-related chaos of the last several days, which saw the band postpone a date in Indianapolis (“I just got the fucking flu,” Vedder said, as he apologized for the scrapped show) and turn up in Fort Worth  with longtime collaborator Josh Klinghoffer behind the drum kit while regular drummer Matt Cameron recovers from a recent COVID infection.

“We appreciate you taking this journey,” the 58-year-old Vedder concluded, admitting along the way he was still not back to full strength. “I hope it’s a great, great night.”

With that, Pearl Jam spent the next 25 songs and roughly 2.5 hours illustrating precisely why they are one of America’s greatest rock bands, and how they’ve endured — even persevered — through more than three decades of cultural tumult. (Pearl Jam is scheduled to perform again Friday at Dickies Arena.) The evening was undoubtedly different — much of the show’s first hour was a peculiar hybrid of “MTV Unplugged”-style staging and feral intensity, as Vedder often spontaneously rose out of his seat, only to plop back down — but it was also utterly remarkable, a singular live music moment.

For starters, although Pearl Jam is nominally touring behind its 11th and most recent studio album, Gigaton, the setlist betrayed no trace of any Pearl Jam product beyond 2013. The group instead heavily favored its fifth studio album, Yield, which marks its 25th anniversary this year.

There was a sense as Vedder, Klinghoffer, keyboardist Boom Gaspar, lead guitarist Mike McCready, rhythm guitarist Stone Gossard and bassist Jeff Ament steadily worked through the night, finding their footing and building up a ferocious head of steam in the process, that they were relying on the comfort of classics, a muscle memory of sorts that gave the sold-out room what it was screaming for and allowed them to navigate a fraught situation. That said, had Klinghoffer not manned the drums and Vedder not punctuated the evening with asides about how wretched he still felt (“I’m fucked,” he said, just before the encore-opening “Crazy Mary.” “My throat hurts; I feel like I’m gonna die.”), any casual observer would’ve been hard pressed to notice anything was significantly off, especially after the chairs disappeared from the stage as the band tore into “Corduroy,” and Pearl Jam found another, thrilling gear.

The searing run of “Mind Your Manners,” “Even Flow” (which featured an absolutely astonishing McCready solo, much of which was played behind his head, a la Stevie Ray Vaughan), “Given to Fly,” “Pilate” and “Hail Hail” was a vivid illustration of the Seattle-formed band’s seamless ability to fuse raw-nerved, jagged punk energy with arena-filling melodies and gorgeous riffs.

Indeed, there was the sense McCready was stepping into the vacuum created by an ailing Vedder, unleashing multiple jaw-dropping feats of guitar wizardry, including a climactic run on “Black” that prompted Vedder to say, “I don’t wanna make him blush, but that was the best solo of the tour so far — it bodes well for this evening.”

McCready also took a turn in the spotlight when Vedder, in an effort to “give my throat a break,” watched as the lead guitarist tore off a blistering cover of Van Halen’s “Eruption,” which elicited an ecstatic roar. That sense of muscling through, putting heads down and just willing themselves to the finish line gave the evening a powerful sense of catharsis.

Again and again, Pearl Jam stood together and plowed ahead, digging into rarities (“Satan’s Bed,” from 1994’s Vitalogy), cleverly tagging staples like “Daughter” with bits of Wet Leg’s “Chaise Longue,” or ending the encore (which found Vedder, at one point, dressed like a human disco ball) with scorching cuts like “Do the Evolution,” “Porch” and “Alive” burning under the house lights.

But underneath it all was the visceral bond with the audience, which would have been passionate in the best of circumstances. Wednesday night was deeply moving to behold, a roomful of strangers united in their desire to lift up their heroes, who were having a low moment.

“In thinking about playing tonight and in thinking about not being able to, I knew if we could rise to the occasion, it would take a big dose of counting on you,” Vedder said, late in the main set. “Thank you for getting us this far.”

While the sentiment applied to the moment at hand, it could just as easily transfer to the longevity of the band itself. No rock band is assured a career, and certainly not one as lengthy and successful as Pearl Jam’s. The songs and showmanship and charisma are certainly part of it, but so, too, is the fans’ unwavering devotion. In ways few filing into Dickies Arena might have expected, the audience was as essential to Wednesday’s unforgettable experience as the men standing — and sitting — on stage.

Pearl Jam’s Fort Worth debut was, as Vedder hoped at the top, a great, great night, a unique and uniquely powerful example of just what music can do — for those who make it and for those who listen.