This year marked the 25th anniversary of one of my favorite albums, Pearl Jam’s Yield. As part of the anniversary celebration, the team at Pearl Jam’s Ten Club asked me to write about my experience with the album. Below is the piece that ran in the February 2023 Ten Club newsletter, republished with permission.
I remember buying my first copy of Yield, and calling it a life-changing event isn’t much of an exaggeration.
In the summer of 1998, I walked into my local record store on a mission. I planned to flirt with the cute record store clerk I was crushing on, and I planned to buy Yield. I did both those things that day. What I didn’t know at the time is I’d eventually marry that cute girl behind the counter and to paraphrase “Given to Fly,” 25 years later we still stand. A few months after that memorable purchase and plenty of mutual flirting later, the record store girl and I started dating and Yield became part of the soundtrack to our courtship. At the same time, I was falling in love with my crush, I was also falling in love with Yield.
From the false start opening riff of “Brain of J” to the final handclap of “Hummus,” I was as smitten with Yield as I was my future fiancé. I fondly remember driving around town alone singing along to the anthemic releases of “In Hiding” and “Faithfull,” poorly performing my own personal Pearl Jam concert. Whenever I needed to scratch an itch for some punk rock energy I’d play “Do the Evolution” or “Brain of J.” And the beautiful balladry and sentimentality of “All Those Yesterdays” and “Low Light” felt perfect for my burgeoning romance.
Then there’s “Given to Fly.” Its stunning majesty with its shades of Zeppelin captivated me, and I’ll never forget experiencing it live for the first time. I typically don’t like subjecting others to my singing voice at concerts, but something came over me when setlist hit “Given to Fly” during my first Pearl Jam concert. I found myself reaching for the sky, arms outstretched in jubilation while singing along with thousands of fans. It was my first time experiencing such pure communal joy. That shared moment of bliss was unlike anything I had felt. I get goosebumps thinking about it. In fact, the poster I purchased at that show has hung on the walls of everywhere I’ve called home to help me relive that moment.
While I don’t listen to Yield as much as I did that fateful summer, a quarter century after its release it remains a seminal part of the soundtrack to my life. It’s connected to some of my favorite memories, and I might not have them without Yield. That’s why when listening to Yield today, I don’t just hear a collection of songs, I hear memories. I hear the memories of young love and all those yesterdays I spent courting my wife. I hear the memory of a euphoria that can only be experienced by singing in the choir along with 20,000 other faithful fans. Best of all, I hear the memory of getting to know the cute girl behind the record store counter who changed my life by stealing my heart. Thank you for 25 years of unforgettable memories, Yield.
