Thank you MFC. I can only imagine what drumming at that caliber does to your body after this many years. It was an honor to get to see you play live so many times with SG and PG. Aside from Neil Peart....there was nobody better during my lifetime.
I panicked when Dave Abbruzzese left Pearl Jam, thanks to a deep and
abiding fear that a band breakup was imminent. No one seemed to enjoy
being in Pearl Jam, and I assumed he was a core part of both their sound
and identity (it was a different time. We just knew what Rolling Stone
and Spin told us). At the very least, for the duration of my fandom, he
was the only Pearl Jam drummer I knew. I didn’t know what Pearl Jam was
without him. Or what they would be for me.
I was relieved when Jack Irons joined since it meant Pearl Jam would
continue. I knew next to nothing about him – only that he was in the
liner notes of Vitalogy, and that playing drums on Stupid Mop was not
exactly the calling card I was looking for. It wasn’t until much later
that I learned about his history with Ed, and that Pearl Jam would not
exist without him.
I saw Pearl Jam live for the first time with Jack. It was a transcendent
experience (Randall’s Island, Night 1). Prior to that moment, Pearl
Jam always felt fragile – something that could fall apart at any moment,
their survival dependent on the will and whim of Eddie Vedder, a man
equally likely to shatter or detonate at any moment. Something changed
for me after that night. Seeing them live was almost a supernatural
experience– like they were channeling something larger than themselves –
something primal, elemental, raw, and true that was simultaneously not
of this world and its beating heart. Something that real couldn’t help
but exist. After that night, Pearl Jam finally felt immortal – something
that would HAVE to endure, whether they wanted to or not.
And yet, when Jack left the band, I still felt fear, if not outright
panic. By 1998 it seemed inevitable that the Seattle bands were destined
to disintegrate, and I wasn’t confident Pearl Jam would be different.
When I learned that Matt Cameron would join them for the Yield tour, it
wasn’t just that I was relieved (though I was!). This pairing felt right
and proper. The greatest drummer of the grunge moment should be a part
of its greatest band. I don’t think I knew he played on the demos sent
to Ed, but I knew Temple of The Dog, and when Matt became an official
member, it felt like the closing of a loop, or the end of an extended
prologue. Pearl Jam had found its forever lineup. The one it was always
meant to have.
Twenty seven years is not forever. But in terms of band dynamics it may
as well be. And while Jack Irons is often credited with saving Pearl
Jam, Matt Cameron is undoubtedly the reason they endured. Matt Cameron
did what probably felt impossible for most of the 90s. He made Eddie,
Jeff, Mike, and Stone want to be in Pearl Jam.
Matt was a flashier drummer in Soundgarden. His parts more obvious. But
that makes sense. Soundgarden was the musically showier band. Pearl
Jam’s playing wasn’t technical in its orientation. It was emotional.
Soundgarden, for me, often felt like an exercise in craft. Whereas Pearl
Jam was a study in experential truth. And I think we often forget (or
take for granted) something fundamental about Matt: that he is arguably
the most adaptable and selfless drummer of his era. In the innumerable
albums he has guested on, the bands and projects he has been a part of,
one of his singular gifts is his capacity to be whatever the music
needed him to be. There is no overlap between talent and ego on Matt’s
Venn diagram. He drummed in service of the song, not himself. I don’t
think there is a member of the band as musically giving as Matt. There
is a reason Eddie spent twenty seven years gushing about the opportunity
to play with Matt. Matt enabled all of them to be their best selves, in
ways that were maybe hard to see from the outside, but were so
blindingly apparent to the band. And while this stage banter sometimes
made it seem like Matt was in an extended guest spot, in reality it was
recognition that his singular talents were not taken for granted – the
ones the audience could see and hear, and the ones that could only be
felt and understood by the band itself.
It's not that Matt was a chameleon. It’s just that he was monstrously
talented, endlessly adaptable, and somehow always true to himself. Matt
ensured whatever Pearl Jam did, the music would always maintain its
integrity, and that whatever direction their individual muses took them
(including his own), he would be there to hold it all together, and
ensure that whatever came out of that alchemy was unmistakably Pearl
Jam. In the studio for sure, and especially in the increasingly
emotional and improvisational live experience.
Although Matt was the drummer on 60% of their albums and for 80% of
their life as a band (I double checked the math. 80%!), he missed their
imperial moment in the early 90s. He was not the studio drummer on the
songs that made them famous, the songs that endured in the public
consciousness. It is true that Matt will always stand outside the Ten,
Vs, Vitalogy arc (he was having his own with Soundgarden) when Pearl Jam
was the most important band in the world.
But there is another Pearl Jam. The Pearl Jam I have seen for twenty
nine of my thirty shows. The band that could release 72 bootlegs and set
two records for most albums to debut in the Billboard 200. The band
that built a reputation as one of the best live rock acts of all time.
Their incomprehensible performance chemistry is a product of the Matt
Cameron era. The Pearl Jam that made Pearl Jam Radio possible, that
made it so that you could be a fan solely of their live material and
never run out of things to listen to – we owe this to Matt. His legacy
is that Pearl Jam never became a legacy act. He was not of the Pearl Jam
I saw on TV growing up. But he was the backbone of the Pearl Jam I was
privileged to grow alongside of.
Rock bands have short life spans. Group dynamics are complicated under
the best of circumstances, and having to maintain them under the glare
and scrutiny of a sometimes obnoxious and entitled fan base (which is,
to be fair, all fan bases) is hard to do. Bring in egos, money, the
pressure and need of the machinery that depends on you, and it’s a
miracle any of them survive. Most don’t. And most of us, therefore,
find that our favorite music gets trapped in a particular moment in time
– those brief windows when a band existed. And the music becomes a
frozen, reified thing. Something we can go return to, or a piece of the
past we can carry with us. But that relationship is always looking
backwards, always recapturing something we had to leave behind.
But not for us. We have been blessed to grow old with our band. That the
soundtrack of our lives is forever expanding, bridging our past,
present and future is a gift we were given. Pearl Jam has been a
constant in my life for almost 34 years – as a living, changing thing.
The music did not just help me find and retain my youthful passion and
outrage, but grapple with my adult responsibilities and obligations. It
has been there to bridge the space between my dreams and my reality, to
help me understand the world I grew up in, the world I made, and the one
I will be passing on.
It is easy to take this for granted, and Matt’s departure is shocking
because, whether we are conscious of it or not, it reminds us none of
this is inevitable. None of it will last forever. It takes luck. It
takes work. It takes love. It is a relationship, and now that will
relationship will have to change. It is only appropriate that we grieve
what is lost. It shaped our fandom. In countless ways, big and small, it
helped shape who we are. It mattered. What follows will still be real.
But it will be different.
I love Matt’s output with the band. He has anchored some stellar albums.
He has been the drummer on some of my very favorite Pearl Jam songs.
And he has even written a handful of my favorites. But his biggest
contribution, I think, is the fact that Pearl Jam is still here. I
don’t think it would be without him.
When Matt announced his retirement it was bittersweet. Matt has earned
his the right to walk away on his own terms, while he can. Our heroes
deserve the right to control their destiny. I wish him all the best in
whatever happens next. I am sure he will be back on stage at one point.
But I will miss him. What he accomplished, what he represented, and what
he made possible.
This marks the end of an era, but not the end. This time I didn’t feel
panic. Because Matt carried the rest of the band to a place where I no
longer fear for Pearl Jam’s future. He made them comfortable in their
skins. He made them enjoy being in a band together. He built the
symbiotic and generative relationship they have with their fans. He
helped turn concerts into revivals, and I just can’t imagine the band
ever wanting to give that up. Pearl Jam will be different without him.
But it will endure. Thanks to him.
Thank you Matt, for the music.
Thank you, Matt, for the memories.
Thank you, Matt, for putting in the work.
And thank you, Matt, for ensuring that this is not the end.
I panicked when Dave Abbruzzese left Pearl Jam, thanks to a deep and
abiding fear that a band breakup was imminent. No one seemed to enjoy
being in Pearl Jam, and I assumed he was a core part of both their sound
and identity (it was a different time. We just knew what Rolling Stone
and Spin told us). At the very least, for the duration of my fandom, he
was the only Pearl Jam drummer I knew. I didn’t know what Pearl Jam was
without him. Or what they would be for me.
I was relieved when Jack Irons joined since it meant Pearl Jam would
continue. I knew next to nothing about him – only that he was in the
liner notes of Vitalogy, and that playing drums on Stupid Mop was not
exactly the calling card I was looking for. It wasn’t until much later
that I learned about his history with Ed, and that Pearl Jam would not
exist without him.
I saw Pearl Jam live for the first time with Jack. It was a transcendent
experience (Randall’s Island, Night 1). Prior to that moment, Pearl
Jam always felt fragile – something that could fall apart at any moment,
their survival dependent on the will and whim of Eddie Vedder, a man
equally likely to shatter or detonate at any moment. Something changed
for me after that night. Seeing them live was almost a supernatural
experience– like they were channeling something larger than themselves –
something primal, elemental, raw, and true that was simultaneously not
of this world and its beating heart. Something that real couldn’t help
but exist. After that night, Pearl Jam finally felt immortal – something
that would HAVE to endure, whether they wanted to or not.
And yet, when Jack left the band, I still felt fear, if not outright
panic. By 1998 it seemed inevitable that the Seattle bands were destined
to disintegrate, and I wasn’t confident Pearl Jam would be different.
When I learned that Matt Cameron would join them for the Yield tour, it
wasn’t just that I was relieved (though I was!). This pairing felt right
and proper. The greatest drummer of the grunge moment should be a part
of its greatest band. I don’t think I knew he played on the demos sent
to Ed, but I knew Temple of The Dog, and when Matt became an official
member, it felt like the closing of a loop, or the end of an extended
prologue. Pearl Jam had found its forever lineup. The one it was always
meant to have.
Twenty seven years is not forever. But in terms of band dynamics it may
as well be. And while Jack Irons is often credited with saving Pearl
Jam, Matt Cameron is undoubtedly the reason they endured. Matt Cameron
did what probably felt impossible for most of the 90s. He made Eddie,
Jeff, Mike, and Stone want to be in Pearl Jam.
Matt was a flashier drummer in Soundgarden. His parts more obvious. But
that makes sense. Soundgarden was the musically showier band. Pearl
Jam’s playing wasn’t technical in its orientation. It was emotional.
Soundgarden, for me, often felt like an exercise in craft. Whereas Pearl
Jam was a study in experential truth. And I think we often forget (or
take for granted) something fundamental about Matt: that he is arguably
the most adaptable and selfless drummer of his era. In the innumerable
albums he has guested on, the bands and projects he has been a part of,
one of his singular gifts is his capacity to be whatever the music
needed him to be. There is no overlap between talent and ego on Matt’s
Venn diagram. He drummed in service of the song, not himself. I don’t
think there is a member of the band as musically giving as Matt. There
is a reason Eddie spent twenty seven years gushing about the opportunity
to play with Matt. Matt enabled all of them to be their best selves, in
ways that were maybe hard to see from the outside, but were so
blindingly apparent to the band. And while this stage banter sometimes
made it seem like Matt was in an extended guest spot, in reality it was
recognition that his singular talents were not taken for granted – the
ones the audience could see and hear, and the ones that could only be
felt and understood by the band itself.
It's not that Matt was a chameleon. It’s just that he was monstrously
talented, endlessly adaptable, and somehow always true to himself. Matt
ensured whatever Pearl Jam did, the music would always maintain its
integrity, and that whatever direction their individual muses took them
(including his own), he would be there to hold it all together, and
ensure that whatever came out of that alchemy was unmistakably Pearl
Jam. In the studio for sure, and especially in the increasingly
emotional and improvisational live experience.
Although Matt was the drummer on 60% of their albums and for 80% of
their life as a band (I double checked the math. 80%!), he missed their
imperial moment in the early 90s. He was not the studio drummer on the
songs that made them famous, the songs that endured in the public
consciousness. It is true that Matt will always stand outside the Ten,
Vs, Vitalogy arc (he was having his own with Soundgarden) when Pearl Jam
was the most important band in the world.
But there is another Pearl Jam. The Pearl Jam I have seen for twenty
nine of my thirty shows. The band that could release 72 bootlegs and set
two records for most albums to debut in the Billboard 200. The band
that built a reputation as one of the best live rock acts of all time.
Their incomprehensible performance chemistry is a product of the Matt
Cameron era. The Pearl Jam that made Pearl Jam Radio possible, that
made it so that you could be a fan solely of their live material and
never run out of things to listen to – we owe this to Matt. His legacy
is that Pearl Jam never became a legacy act. He was not of the Pearl Jam
I saw on TV growing up. But he was the backbone of the Pearl Jam I was
privileged to grow alongside of.
Rock bands have short life spans. Group dynamics are complicated under
the best of circumstances, and having to maintain them under the glare
and scrutiny of a sometimes obnoxious and entitled fan base (which is,
to be fair, all fan bases) is hard to do. Bring in egos, money, the
pressure and need of the machinery that depends on you, and it’s a
miracle any of them survive. Most don’t. And most of us, therefore,
find that our favorite music gets trapped in a particular moment in time
– those brief windows when a band existed. And the music becomes a
frozen, reified thing. Something we can go return to, or a piece of the
past we can carry with us. But that relationship is always looking
backwards, always recapturing something we had to leave behind.
But not for us. We have been blessed to grow old with our band. That the
soundtrack of our lives is forever expanding, bridging our past,
present and future is a gift we were given. Pearl Jam has been a
constant in my life for almost 34 years – as a living, changing thing.
The music did not just help me find and retain my youthful passion and
outrage, but grapple with my adult responsibilities and obligations. It
has been there to bridge the space between my dreams and my reality, to
help me understand the world I grew up in, the world I made, and the one
I will be passing on.
It is easy to take this for granted, and Matt’s departure is shocking
because, whether we are conscious of it or not, it reminds us none of
this is inevitable. None of it will last forever. It takes luck. It
takes work. It takes love. It is a relationship, and now that will
relationship will have to change. It is only appropriate that we grieve
what is lost. It shaped our fandom. In countless ways, big and small, it
helped shape who we are. It mattered. What follows will still be real.
But it will be different.
I love Matt’s output with the band. He has anchored some stellar albums.
He has been the drummer on some of my very favorite Pearl Jam songs.
And he has even written a handful of my favorites. But his biggest
contribution, I think, is the fact that Pearl Jam is still here. I
don’t think it would be without him.
When Matt announced his retirement it was bittersweet. Matt has earned
his the right to walk away on his own terms, while he can. Our heroes
deserve the right to control their destiny. I wish him all the best in
whatever happens next. I am sure he will be back on stage at one point.
But I will miss him. What he accomplished, what he represented, and what
he made possible.
This marks the end of an era, but not the end. This time I didn’t feel
panic. Because Matt carried the rest of the band to a place where I no
longer fear for Pearl Jam’s future. He made them comfortable in their
skins. He made them enjoy being in a band together. He built the
symbiotic and generative relationship they have with their fans. He
helped turn concerts into revivals, and I just can’t imagine the band
ever wanting to give that up. Pearl Jam will be different without him.
But it will endure. Thanks to him.
Thank you Matt, for the music.
Thank you, Matt, for the memories.
Thank you, Matt, for putting in the work.
And thank you, Matt, for ensuring that this is not the end.
This is perfect. Thanks for writing and posting.
you couldn't swing if you were hangin' from a palm tree in a hurricane
We will never know why, so all we can do is enjoy the memories and keep listening
I agree 100% with points 1 & 5 and I think point # 2 is probably accurate in so much that he's retiring from PJ and being in a touring band. I don't think he's retiring from music, but i I will be surprised if he does any real sort of tours with another act.
I'm coming around to #3... Jack Irons was behind the kit for my 2 favorite PJ albums... I couldn't see him rejoining them as their full time drummer, but if he were to do another studio album w/ them, I would be beyond excited. Outside of that, I'm really not on the "get one of the prior drummers" train.
Point # 4 - it's entirely possible, and was one hell of a way to end the Live On Two Legs podcast from 2 days ago.
Yeah, that's my thought for #2. I think he may appear here and there and will sit in with the band for Seattle shows for a song or two. But 62 years old, I think any hard working drummer is ready to have a much deserved break. I can't imagine the toll it has taken on him from decades as a drummer. Hell, good for him to make it past 60 as a "hard rock" drummer.
I think the statement could have been more information to stop all the hear say and guess work. Imo just say it as it is. More to follow? No need just make it plain and simple we all move on or we don't. But flame me for thinking that if you will
The first place my brain goes is that he is going to announce another project and that has its own timeline, including letting this big news cool off. But who knows. We'll see.
I think soundgarden is doing a remake and he will devote his time to that.
There is no Soundgarden without Chris Cornell.
It cracks me up when people say they are going to see STP (or Linkin Park).
I've liked all incarnations of STP. Seen them with Scott many times and also with Jeff. I really like the Jeff stuff. It's STP if the band says it is. Same with AIC. Sure, it's different. But it's just a name. Don't know why people get so hung up on that. I wonder if people were like that when Brian Johnson became the singer of ACDC.
Hugh Freaking Dillon is currently out of the office, returning sometime in the fall
I would really take some comfort in an announcement from the band stating they have a plan to navigate the path forward - with a focus on touring and making more amazing music. My unease at this moment is b/c it feels unresolved.
I think soundgarden is doing a remake and he will devote his time to that.
There is no Soundgarden without Chris Cornell.
It cracks me up when people say they are going to see STP (or Linkin Park).
I've liked all incarnations of STP. Seen them with Scott many times and also with Jeff. I really like the Jeff stuff. It's STP if the band says it is. Same with AIC. Sure, it's different. But it's just a name. Don't know why people get so hung up on that. I wonder if people were like that when Brian Johnson became the singer of ACDC.
I would really take some comfort in an announcement from the band stating they have a plan to navigate the path forward - with a focus on touring and making more amazing music. My unease at this moment is b/c it feels unresolved.
You should know that is how they work. And always have. When they have something to say, they will. It is unresolved. It is just a giant question mark. And that is ok.
I would really take some comfort in an announcement from the band stating they have a plan to navigate the path forward - with a focus on touring and making more amazing music. My unease at this moment is b/c it feels unresolved.
I think they're closing comment in the newsletter was for that purpose
I would really take some comfort in an announcement from the band stating they have a plan to navigate the path forward - with a focus on touring and making more amazing music. My unease at this moment is b/c it feels unresolved.
I think they're closing comment in the newsletter was for that purpose
Definitely.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be careful. Strive to be happy. ~ Desiderata
I panicked when Dave Abbruzzese left Pearl Jam, thanks to a deep and
abiding fear that a band breakup was imminent. No one seemed to enjoy
being in Pearl Jam, and I assumed he was a core part of both their sound
and identity (it was a different time. We just knew what Rolling Stone
and Spin told us). At the very least, for the duration of my fandom, he
was the only Pearl Jam drummer I knew. I didn’t know what Pearl Jam was
without him. Or what they would be for me.
I was relieved when Jack Irons joined since it meant Pearl Jam would
continue. I knew next to nothing about him – only that he was in the
liner notes of Vitalogy, and that playing drums on Stupid Mop was not
exactly the calling card I was looking for. It wasn’t until much later
that I learned about his history with Ed, and that Pearl Jam would not
exist without him.
I saw Pearl Jam live for the first time with Jack. It was a transcendent
experience (Randall’s Island, Night 1). Prior to that moment, Pearl
Jam always felt fragile – something that could fall apart at any moment,
their survival dependent on the will and whim of Eddie Vedder, a man
equally likely to shatter or detonate at any moment. Something changed
for me after that night. Seeing them live was almost a supernatural
experience– like they were channeling something larger than themselves –
something primal, elemental, raw, and true that was simultaneously not
of this world and its beating heart. Something that real couldn’t help
but exist. After that night, Pearl Jam finally felt immortal – something
that would HAVE to endure, whether they wanted to or not.
And yet, when Jack left the band, I still felt fear, if not outright
panic. By 1998 it seemed inevitable that the Seattle bands were destined
to disintegrate, and I wasn’t confident Pearl Jam would be different.
When I learned that Matt Cameron would join them for the Yield tour, it
wasn’t just that I was relieved (though I was!). This pairing felt right
and proper. The greatest drummer of the grunge moment should be a part
of its greatest band. I don’t think I knew he played on the demos sent
to Ed, but I knew Temple of The Dog, and when Matt became an official
member, it felt like the closing of a loop, or the end of an extended
prologue. Pearl Jam had found its forever lineup. The one it was always
meant to have.
Twenty seven years is not forever. But in terms of band dynamics it may
as well be. And while Jack Irons is often credited with saving Pearl
Jam, Matt Cameron is undoubtedly the reason they endured. Matt Cameron
did what probably felt impossible for most of the 90s. He made Eddie,
Jeff, Mike, and Stone want to be in Pearl Jam.
Matt was a flashier drummer in Soundgarden. His parts more obvious. But
that makes sense. Soundgarden was the musically showier band. Pearl
Jam’s playing wasn’t technical in its orientation. It was emotional.
Soundgarden, for me, often felt like an exercise in craft. Whereas Pearl
Jam was a study in experential truth. And I think we often forget (or
take for granted) something fundamental about Matt: that he is arguably
the most adaptable and selfless drummer of his era. In the innumerable
albums he has guested on, the bands and projects he has been a part of,
one of his singular gifts is his capacity to be whatever the music
needed him to be. There is no overlap between talent and ego on Matt’s
Venn diagram. He drummed in service of the song, not himself. I don’t
think there is a member of the band as musically giving as Matt. There
is a reason Eddie spent twenty seven years gushing about the opportunity
to play with Matt. Matt enabled all of them to be their best selves, in
ways that were maybe hard to see from the outside, but were so
blindingly apparent to the band. And while this stage banter sometimes
made it seem like Matt was in an extended guest spot, in reality it was
recognition that his singular talents were not taken for granted – the
ones the audience could see and hear, and the ones that could only be
felt and understood by the band itself.
It's not that Matt was a chameleon. It’s just that he was monstrously
talented, endlessly adaptable, and somehow always true to himself. Matt
ensured whatever Pearl Jam did, the music would always maintain its
integrity, and that whatever direction their individual muses took them
(including his own), he would be there to hold it all together, and
ensure that whatever came out of that alchemy was unmistakably Pearl
Jam. In the studio for sure, and especially in the increasingly
emotional and improvisational live experience.
Although Matt was the drummer on 60% of their albums and for 80% of
their life as a band (I double checked the math. 80%!), he missed their
imperial moment in the early 90s. He was not the studio drummer on the
songs that made them famous, the songs that endured in the public
consciousness. It is true that Matt will always stand outside the Ten,
Vs, Vitalogy arc (he was having his own with Soundgarden) when Pearl Jam
was the most important band in the world.
But there is another Pearl Jam. The Pearl Jam I have seen for twenty
nine of my thirty shows. The band that could release 72 bootlegs and set
two records for most albums to debut in the Billboard 200. The band
that built a reputation as one of the best live rock acts of all time.
Their incomprehensible performance chemistry is a product of the Matt
Cameron era. The Pearl Jam that made Pearl Jam Radio possible, that
made it so that you could be a fan solely of their live material and
never run out of things to listen to – we owe this to Matt. His legacy
is that Pearl Jam never became a legacy act. He was not of the Pearl Jam
I saw on TV growing up. But he was the backbone of the Pearl Jam I was
privileged to grow alongside of.
Rock bands have short life spans. Group dynamics are complicated under
the best of circumstances, and having to maintain them under the glare
and scrutiny of a sometimes obnoxious and entitled fan base (which is,
to be fair, all fan bases) is hard to do. Bring in egos, money, the
pressure and need of the machinery that depends on you, and it’s a
miracle any of them survive. Most don’t. And most of us, therefore,
find that our favorite music gets trapped in a particular moment in time
– those brief windows when a band existed. And the music becomes a
frozen, reified thing. Something we can go return to, or a piece of the
past we can carry with us. But that relationship is always looking
backwards, always recapturing something we had to leave behind.
But not for us. We have been blessed to grow old with our band. That the
soundtrack of our lives is forever expanding, bridging our past,
present and future is a gift we were given. Pearl Jam has been a
constant in my life for almost 34 years – as a living, changing thing.
The music did not just help me find and retain my youthful passion and
outrage, but grapple with my adult responsibilities and obligations. It
has been there to bridge the space between my dreams and my reality, to
help me understand the world I grew up in, the world I made, and the one
I will be passing on.
It is easy to take this for granted, and Matt’s departure is shocking
because, whether we are conscious of it or not, it reminds us none of
this is inevitable. None of it will last forever. It takes luck. It
takes work. It takes love. It is a relationship, and now that will
relationship will have to change. It is only appropriate that we grieve
what is lost. It shaped our fandom. In countless ways, big and small, it
helped shape who we are. It mattered. What follows will still be real.
But it will be different.
I love Matt’s output with the band. He has anchored some stellar albums.
He has been the drummer on some of my very favorite Pearl Jam songs.
And he has even written a handful of my favorites. But his biggest
contribution, I think, is the fact that Pearl Jam is still here. I
don’t think it would be without him.
When Matt announced his retirement it was bittersweet. Matt has earned
his the right to walk away on his own terms, while he can. Our heroes
deserve the right to control their destiny. I wish him all the best in
whatever happens next. I am sure he will be back on stage at one point.
But I will miss him. What he accomplished, what he represented, and what
he made possible.
This marks the end of an era, but not the end. This time I didn’t feel
panic. Because Matt carried the rest of the band to a place where I no
longer fear for Pearl Jam’s future. He made them comfortable in their
skins. He made them enjoy being in a band together. He built the
symbiotic and generative relationship they have with their fans. He
helped turn concerts into revivals, and I just can’t imagine the band
ever wanting to give that up. Pearl Jam will be different without him.
But it will endure. Thanks to him.
Thank you Matt, for the music.
Thank you, Matt, for the memories.
Thank you, Matt, for putting in the work.
And thank you, Matt, for ensuring that this is not the end.
I think soundgarden is doing a remake and he will devote his time to that.
There is no Soundgarden without Chris Cornell.
Agreed but a remake is what I said. I think those rumors have legs but at the end of the day I respect Matt’s decision and wish him the best. I miss Chris, I miss soundgarden and I don’t want to miss Pearl Jam. Just trying to stay positive.
I think soundgarden is doing a remake and he will devote his time to that.
There is no Soundgarden without Chris Cornell.
Agreed but a remake is what I said. I think those rumors have legs but at the end of the day I respect Matt’s decision and wish him the best. I miss Chris, I miss soundgarden and I don’t want to miss Pearl Jam. Just trying to stay positive.
Right, from what they (Kim, Ben, and MC) have thrown out there, it seems like there are either some unreleased songs (for which they're re-tracking instrumentals) or there are Cornell vocal tracks around which they're building out songs. There is of course no SG without CC, but that doesn't change the fact they might have stuff for a new SG album.
I’m still sad about Matt leaving but I am extremely grateful for all the music and seeing him live with one of the best bands in the world. Thanks Matt for all the music! You will be sorely missed and I can’t wait to see you get inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame with Soundgarden this Fall.
I panicked when Dave Abbruzzese left Pearl Jam, thanks to a deep and
abiding fear that a band breakup was imminent. No one seemed to enjoy
being in Pearl Jam, and I assumed he was a core part of both their sound
and identity (it was a different time. We just knew what Rolling Stone
and Spin told us). At the very least, for the duration of my fandom, he
was the only Pearl Jam drummer I knew. I didn’t know what Pearl Jam was
without him. Or what they would be for me.
I was relieved when Jack Irons joined since it meant Pearl Jam would
continue. I knew next to nothing about him – only that he was in the
liner notes of Vitalogy, and that playing drums on Stupid Mop was not
exactly the calling card I was looking for. It wasn’t until much later
that I learned about his history with Ed, and that Pearl Jam would not
exist without him.
I saw Pearl Jam live for the first time with Jack. It was a transcendent
experience (Randall’s Island, Night 1). Prior to that moment, Pearl
Jam always felt fragile – something that could fall apart at any moment,
their survival dependent on the will and whim of Eddie Vedder, a man
equally likely to shatter or detonate at any moment. Something changed
for me after that night. Seeing them live was almost a supernatural
experience– like they were channeling something larger than themselves –
something primal, elemental, raw, and true that was simultaneously not
of this world and its beating heart. Something that real couldn’t help
but exist. After that night, Pearl Jam finally felt immortal – something
that would HAVE to endure, whether they wanted to or not.
And yet, when Jack left the band, I still felt fear, if not outright
panic. By 1998 it seemed inevitable that the Seattle bands were destined
to disintegrate, and I wasn’t confident Pearl Jam would be different.
When I learned that Matt Cameron would join them for the Yield tour, it
wasn’t just that I was relieved (though I was!). This pairing felt right
and proper. The greatest drummer of the grunge moment should be a part
of its greatest band. I don’t think I knew he played on the demos sent
to Ed, but I knew Temple of The Dog, and when Matt became an official
member, it felt like the closing of a loop, or the end of an extended
prologue. Pearl Jam had found its forever lineup. The one it was always
meant to have.
Twenty seven years is not forever. But in terms of band dynamics it may
as well be. And while Jack Irons is often credited with saving Pearl
Jam, Matt Cameron is undoubtedly the reason they endured. Matt Cameron
did what probably felt impossible for most of the 90s. He made Eddie,
Jeff, Mike, and Stone want to be in Pearl Jam.
Matt was a flashier drummer in Soundgarden. His parts more obvious. But
that makes sense. Soundgarden was the musically showier band. Pearl
Jam’s playing wasn’t technical in its orientation. It was emotional.
Soundgarden, for me, often felt like an exercise in craft. Whereas Pearl
Jam was a study in experential truth. And I think we often forget (or
take for granted) something fundamental about Matt: that he is arguably
the most adaptable and selfless drummer of his era. In the innumerable
albums he has guested on, the bands and projects he has been a part of,
one of his singular gifts is his capacity to be whatever the music
needed him to be. There is no overlap between talent and ego on Matt’s
Venn diagram. He drummed in service of the song, not himself. I don’t
think there is a member of the band as musically giving as Matt. There
is a reason Eddie spent twenty seven years gushing about the opportunity
to play with Matt. Matt enabled all of them to be their best selves, in
ways that were maybe hard to see from the outside, but were so
blindingly apparent to the band. And while this stage banter sometimes
made it seem like Matt was in an extended guest spot, in reality it was
recognition that his singular talents were not taken for granted – the
ones the audience could see and hear, and the ones that could only be
felt and understood by the band itself.
It's not that Matt was a chameleon. It’s just that he was monstrously
talented, endlessly adaptable, and somehow always true to himself. Matt
ensured whatever Pearl Jam did, the music would always maintain its
integrity, and that whatever direction their individual muses took them
(including his own), he would be there to hold it all together, and
ensure that whatever came out of that alchemy was unmistakably Pearl
Jam. In the studio for sure, and especially in the increasingly
emotional and improvisational live experience.
Although Matt was the drummer on 60% of their albums and for 80% of
their life as a band (I double checked the math. 80%!), he missed their
imperial moment in the early 90s. He was not the studio drummer on the
songs that made them famous, the songs that endured in the public
consciousness. It is true that Matt will always stand outside the Ten,
Vs, Vitalogy arc (he was having his own with Soundgarden) when Pearl Jam
was the most important band in the world.
But there is another Pearl Jam. The Pearl Jam I have seen for twenty
nine of my thirty shows. The band that could release 72 bootlegs and set
two records for most albums to debut in the Billboard 200. The band
that built a reputation as one of the best live rock acts of all time.
Their incomprehensible performance chemistry is a product of the Matt
Cameron era. The Pearl Jam that made Pearl Jam Radio possible, that
made it so that you could be a fan solely of their live material and
never run out of things to listen to – we owe this to Matt. His legacy
is that Pearl Jam never became a legacy act. He was not of the Pearl Jam
I saw on TV growing up. But he was the backbone of the Pearl Jam I was
privileged to grow alongside of.
Rock bands have short life spans. Group dynamics are complicated under
the best of circumstances, and having to maintain them under the glare
and scrutiny of a sometimes obnoxious and entitled fan base (which is,
to be fair, all fan bases) is hard to do. Bring in egos, money, the
pressure and need of the machinery that depends on you, and it’s a
miracle any of them survive. Most don’t. And most of us, therefore,
find that our favorite music gets trapped in a particular moment in time
– those brief windows when a band existed. And the music becomes a
frozen, reified thing. Something we can go return to, or a piece of the
past we can carry with us. But that relationship is always looking
backwards, always recapturing something we had to leave behind.
But not for us. We have been blessed to grow old with our band. That the
soundtrack of our lives is forever expanding, bridging our past,
present and future is a gift we were given. Pearl Jam has been a
constant in my life for almost 34 years – as a living, changing thing.
The music did not just help me find and retain my youthful passion and
outrage, but grapple with my adult responsibilities and obligations. It
has been there to bridge the space between my dreams and my reality, to
help me understand the world I grew up in, the world I made, and the one
I will be passing on.
It is easy to take this for granted, and Matt’s departure is shocking
because, whether we are conscious of it or not, it reminds us none of
this is inevitable. None of it will last forever. It takes luck. It
takes work. It takes love. It is a relationship, and now that will
relationship will have to change. It is only appropriate that we grieve
what is lost. It shaped our fandom. In countless ways, big and small, it
helped shape who we are. It mattered. What follows will still be real.
But it will be different.
I love Matt’s output with the band. He has anchored some stellar albums.
He has been the drummer on some of my very favorite Pearl Jam songs.
And he has even written a handful of my favorites. But his biggest
contribution, I think, is the fact that Pearl Jam is still here. I
don’t think it would be without him.
When Matt announced his retirement it was bittersweet. Matt has earned
his the right to walk away on his own terms, while he can. Our heroes
deserve the right to control their destiny. I wish him all the best in
whatever happens next. I am sure he will be back on stage at one point.
But I will miss him. What he accomplished, what he represented, and what
he made possible.
This marks the end of an era, but not the end. This time I didn’t feel
panic. Because Matt carried the rest of the band to a place where I no
longer fear for Pearl Jam’s future. He made them comfortable in their
skins. He made them enjoy being in a band together. He built the
symbiotic and generative relationship they have with their fans. He
helped turn concerts into revivals, and I just can’t imagine the band
ever wanting to give that up. Pearl Jam will be different without him.
But it will endure. Thanks to him.
Thank you Matt, for the music.
Thank you, Matt, for the memories.
Thank you, Matt, for putting in the work.
And thank you, Matt, for ensuring that this is not the end.
I just want to say thank you to Matt Cameron. You have kept us all going over so so many decades, providing us all with the best drumming for the best band and giving us the best music ever made.
I panicked when Dave Abbruzzese left Pearl Jam, thanks to a deep and
abiding fear that a band breakup was imminent. No one seemed to enjoy
being in Pearl Jam, and I assumed he was a core part of both their sound
and identity (it was a different time. We just knew what Rolling Stone
and Spin told us). At the very least, for the duration of my fandom, he
was the only Pearl Jam drummer I knew. I didn’t know what Pearl Jam was
without him. Or what they would be for me.
I was relieved when Jack Irons joined since it meant Pearl Jam would
continue. I knew next to nothing about him – only that he was in the
liner notes of Vitalogy, and that playing drums on Stupid Mop was not
exactly the calling card I was looking for. It wasn’t until much later
that I learned about his history with Ed, and that Pearl Jam would not
exist without him.
I saw Pearl Jam live for the first time with Jack. It was a transcendent
experience (Randall’s Island, Night 1). Prior to that moment, Pearl
Jam always felt fragile – something that could fall apart at any moment,
their survival dependent on the will and whim of Eddie Vedder, a man
equally likely to shatter or detonate at any moment. Something changed
for me after that night. Seeing them live was almost a supernatural
experience– like they were channeling something larger than themselves –
something primal, elemental, raw, and true that was simultaneously not
of this world and its beating heart. Something that real couldn’t help
but exist. After that night, Pearl Jam finally felt immortal – something
that would HAVE to endure, whether they wanted to or not.
And yet, when Jack left the band, I still felt fear, if not outright
panic. By 1998 it seemed inevitable that the Seattle bands were destined
to disintegrate, and I wasn’t confident Pearl Jam would be different.
When I learned that Matt Cameron would join them for the Yield tour, it
wasn’t just that I was relieved (though I was!). This pairing felt right
and proper. The greatest drummer of the grunge moment should be a part
of its greatest band. I don’t think I knew he played on the demos sent
to Ed, but I knew Temple of The Dog, and when Matt became an official
member, it felt like the closing of a loop, or the end of an extended
prologue. Pearl Jam had found its forever lineup. The one it was always
meant to have.
Twenty seven years is not forever. But in terms of band dynamics it may
as well be. And while Jack Irons is often credited with saving Pearl
Jam, Matt Cameron is undoubtedly the reason they endured. Matt Cameron
did what probably felt impossible for most of the 90s. He made Eddie,
Jeff, Mike, and Stone want to be in Pearl Jam.
Matt was a flashier drummer in Soundgarden. His parts more obvious. But
that makes sense. Soundgarden was the musically showier band. Pearl
Jam’s playing wasn’t technical in its orientation. It was emotional.
Soundgarden, for me, often felt like an exercise in craft. Whereas Pearl
Jam was a study in experential truth. And I think we often forget (or
take for granted) something fundamental about Matt: that he is arguably
the most adaptable and selfless drummer of his era. In the innumerable
albums he has guested on, the bands and projects he has been a part of,
one of his singular gifts is his capacity to be whatever the music
needed him to be. There is no overlap between talent and ego on Matt’s
Venn diagram. He drummed in service of the song, not himself. I don’t
think there is a member of the band as musically giving as Matt. There
is a reason Eddie spent twenty seven years gushing about the opportunity
to play with Matt. Matt enabled all of them to be their best selves, in
ways that were maybe hard to see from the outside, but were so
blindingly apparent to the band. And while this stage banter sometimes
made it seem like Matt was in an extended guest spot, in reality it was
recognition that his singular talents were not taken for granted – the
ones the audience could see and hear, and the ones that could only be
felt and understood by the band itself.
It's not that Matt was a chameleon. It’s just that he was monstrously
talented, endlessly adaptable, and somehow always true to himself. Matt
ensured whatever Pearl Jam did, the music would always maintain its
integrity, and that whatever direction their individual muses took them
(including his own), he would be there to hold it all together, and
ensure that whatever came out of that alchemy was unmistakably Pearl
Jam. In the studio for sure, and especially in the increasingly
emotional and improvisational live experience.
Although Matt was the drummer on 60% of their albums and for 80% of
their life as a band (I double checked the math. 80%!), he missed their
imperial moment in the early 90s. He was not the studio drummer on the
songs that made them famous, the songs that endured in the public
consciousness. It is true that Matt will always stand outside the Ten,
Vs, Vitalogy arc (he was having his own with Soundgarden) when Pearl Jam
was the most important band in the world.
But there is another Pearl Jam. The Pearl Jam I have seen for twenty
nine of my thirty shows. The band that could release 72 bootlegs and set
two records for most albums to debut in the Billboard 200. The band
that built a reputation as one of the best live rock acts of all time.
Their incomprehensible performance chemistry is a product of the Matt
Cameron era. The Pearl Jam that made Pearl Jam Radio possible, that
made it so that you could be a fan solely of their live material and
never run out of things to listen to – we owe this to Matt. His legacy
is that Pearl Jam never became a legacy act. He was not of the Pearl Jam
I saw on TV growing up. But he was the backbone of the Pearl Jam I was
privileged to grow alongside of.
Rock bands have short life spans. Group dynamics are complicated under
the best of circumstances, and having to maintain them under the glare
and scrutiny of a sometimes obnoxious and entitled fan base (which is,
to be fair, all fan bases) is hard to do. Bring in egos, money, the
pressure and need of the machinery that depends on you, and it’s a
miracle any of them survive. Most don’t. And most of us, therefore,
find that our favorite music gets trapped in a particular moment in time
– those brief windows when a band existed. And the music becomes a
frozen, reified thing. Something we can go return to, or a piece of the
past we can carry with us. But that relationship is always looking
backwards, always recapturing something we had to leave behind.
But not for us. We have been blessed to grow old with our band. That the
soundtrack of our lives is forever expanding, bridging our past,
present and future is a gift we were given. Pearl Jam has been a
constant in my life for almost 34 years – as a living, changing thing.
The music did not just help me find and retain my youthful passion and
outrage, but grapple with my adult responsibilities and obligations. It
has been there to bridge the space between my dreams and my reality, to
help me understand the world I grew up in, the world I made, and the one
I will be passing on.
It is easy to take this for granted, and Matt’s departure is shocking
because, whether we are conscious of it or not, it reminds us none of
this is inevitable. None of it will last forever. It takes luck. It
takes work. It takes love. It is a relationship, and now that will
relationship will have to change. It is only appropriate that we grieve
what is lost. It shaped our fandom. In countless ways, big and small, it
helped shape who we are. It mattered. What follows will still be real.
But it will be different.
I love Matt’s output with the band. He has anchored some stellar albums.
He has been the drummer on some of my very favorite Pearl Jam songs.
And he has even written a handful of my favorites. But his biggest
contribution, I think, is the fact that Pearl Jam is still here. I
don’t think it would be without him.
When Matt announced his retirement it was bittersweet. Matt has earned
his the right to walk away on his own terms, while he can. Our heroes
deserve the right to control their destiny. I wish him all the best in
whatever happens next. I am sure he will be back on stage at one point.
But I will miss him. What he accomplished, what he represented, and what
he made possible.
This marks the end of an era, but not the end. This time I didn’t feel
panic. Because Matt carried the rest of the band to a place where I no
longer fear for Pearl Jam’s future. He made them comfortable in their
skins. He made them enjoy being in a band together. He built the
symbiotic and generative relationship they have with their fans. He
helped turn concerts into revivals, and I just can’t imagine the band
ever wanting to give that up. Pearl Jam will be different without him.
But it will endure. Thanks to him.
Thank you Matt, for the music.
Thank you, Matt, for the memories.
Thank you, Matt, for putting in the work.
And thank you, Matt, for ensuring that this is not the end.
Bravo! Hear, hear! 👏
Beautifully said/written.
Thank you Matt for being the ballast on the mighty Pearl Jam ship all these years. You will be missed and forever appreciated.
Am i the only one who is actually excited to have some new format onstage?
Of course I love MC, but this may be the begining of something new! and thats always a good thing imo
Mexico City 17/7/2003 Mexico City 18/7/2003 Mexico City 19/7/2003 Santiago Chile 22/11/2005 Santiago Chile 23/11/2005 Buenos Aires Argentina 13/11/2011 Santiago Chile 16/11/2011 Lima Perú 18/11/2011 Sao Paulo Brasil 31/3/2013 Buenos Aires Argentina 03/4/2013 Santiago Chile 06/5/2013 Santiago Chile 4/11/2015 Buenos Aires Argentina 7/11/2015 Porto Alegre Brasil 11/11/2015 Sao Paulo Brasil 14/11/2015 Brasilia Brasil 17/11/2015 Belo Horizonte Brasil 20/11/2015 Rio de Janeiro Brasil 22/11/2015 Bogota Colombia 25/11/2015 Mexico City 28/11/2015 Ft. Lauderdale, FL 8/4/2016 Miami, FL 9/4/2016 Tampa, FL 11/4/2016 Santiago Chile 13/3/2018 Santiago Chile 16/3/2018 Rome Italy 26/6/2018 Prague Czech Republic 1/7/2018 Krakow Poland 3/7/2018 Berlin Germany 5/7/2018 Barcelona Spain 10/7/2018 Dana Point, CA 1/10/2021 Dana Point, CA 2/10/2021 Seattle, WA 28/05/2024 Seattle, WA 30/05/2024 New Orleans, LA 03/05/2025
Am i the only one who is actually excited to have some new format onstage?
Of course I love MC, but this may be the begining of something new! and thats always a good thing imo
God bless your optimism but Pearl Jam ain't King Crimson
They've got 3 drummer slots to fill if that's the case.
1993 - Dallas ~~~ 1995 - Red Rocks I & II | Austin ~~~ 1998 - St Louis | Kansas City | Dallas | Raleigh | Atlanta | Birmingham | Greenville | Knoxville | Virginia Beach ~~~ 2000 - New Orleans | Memphis | Nashville | Noblesville | Cincinnati | Columbus | Houston I & II | Dallas | Las Vegas | LA | San Diego | San Bernardino | Sacramento | San Francisco ~~~ 2003 - OKC | San Antonio | Houston | Dallas | Little Rock | Camden I & II | MSG I & II ~~~ 2004 - Boston I & II | St Louis ~~~ 2005 - Gorge | Vancouver | Kitchener | London | Hamilton ~~~ 2006 - Las Vegas | Gorge I & II | Honolulu ~~~ 2008 - MSG I & II ~~~ 2009 - Seattle I & II | Vancouver | Portland | ACL | Philly I-IV ~~~ 2010 - Kansas City | St Louis ~~~ 2011 - PJ20 I & II ~~~ 2013 - Wrigley | Dallas | OKC ~~~ 2014 - ACL I | Tulsa | Moline | St Paul | Milwaukee | Denver ~~~ 2022 - OKC ~~~ 2023 - FW I & II | Austin I & II ~~~ 2024 - Seattle I & II [80]
Comments
I was relieved when Jack Irons joined since it meant Pearl Jam would continue. I knew next to nothing about him – only that he was in the liner notes of Vitalogy, and that playing drums on Stupid Mop was not exactly the calling card I was looking for. It wasn’t until much later that I learned about his history with Ed, and that Pearl Jam would not exist without him.
I saw Pearl Jam live for the first time with Jack. It was a transcendent experience (Randall’s Island, Night 1). Prior to that moment, Pearl Jam always felt fragile – something that could fall apart at any moment, their survival dependent on the will and whim of Eddie Vedder, a man equally likely to shatter or detonate at any moment. Something changed for me after that night. Seeing them live was almost a supernatural experience– like they were channeling something larger than themselves – something primal, elemental, raw, and true that was simultaneously not of this world and its beating heart. Something that real couldn’t help but exist. After that night, Pearl Jam finally felt immortal – something that would HAVE to endure, whether they wanted to or not.
And yet, when Jack left the band, I still felt fear, if not outright panic. By 1998 it seemed inevitable that the Seattle bands were destined to disintegrate, and I wasn’t confident Pearl Jam would be different. When I learned that Matt Cameron would join them for the Yield tour, it wasn’t just that I was relieved (though I was!). This pairing felt right and proper. The greatest drummer of the grunge moment should be a part of its greatest band. I don’t think I knew he played on the demos sent to Ed, but I knew Temple of The Dog, and when Matt became an official member, it felt like the closing of a loop, or the end of an extended prologue. Pearl Jam had found its forever lineup. The one it was always meant to have.
Twenty seven years is not forever. But in terms of band dynamics it may as well be. And while Jack Irons is often credited with saving Pearl Jam, Matt Cameron is undoubtedly the reason they endured. Matt Cameron did what probably felt impossible for most of the 90s. He made Eddie, Jeff, Mike, and Stone want to be in Pearl Jam.
Matt was a flashier drummer in Soundgarden. His parts more obvious. But that makes sense. Soundgarden was the musically showier band. Pearl Jam’s playing wasn’t technical in its orientation. It was emotional. Soundgarden, for me, often felt like an exercise in craft. Whereas Pearl Jam was a study in experential truth. And I think we often forget (or take for granted) something fundamental about Matt: that he is arguably the most adaptable and selfless drummer of his era. In the innumerable albums he has guested on, the bands and projects he has been a part of, one of his singular gifts is his capacity to be whatever the music needed him to be. There is no overlap between talent and ego on Matt’s Venn diagram. He drummed in service of the song, not himself. I don’t think there is a member of the band as musically giving as Matt. There is a reason Eddie spent twenty seven years gushing about the opportunity to play with Matt. Matt enabled all of them to be their best selves, in ways that were maybe hard to see from the outside, but were so blindingly apparent to the band. And while this stage banter sometimes made it seem like Matt was in an extended guest spot, in reality it was recognition that his singular talents were not taken for granted – the ones the audience could see and hear, and the ones that could only be felt and understood by the band itself.
Although Matt was the drummer on 60% of their albums and for 80% of their life as a band (I double checked the math. 80%!), he missed their imperial moment in the early 90s. He was not the studio drummer on the songs that made them famous, the songs that endured in the public consciousness. It is true that Matt will always stand outside the Ten, Vs, Vitalogy arc (he was having his own with Soundgarden) when Pearl Jam was the most important band in the world.
But there is another Pearl Jam. The Pearl Jam I have seen for twenty nine of my thirty shows. The band that could release 72 bootlegs and set two records for most albums to debut in the Billboard 200. The band that built a reputation as one of the best live rock acts of all time. Their incomprehensible performance chemistry is a product of the Matt Cameron era. The Pearl Jam that made Pearl Jam Radio possible, that made it so that you could be a fan solely of their live material and never run out of things to listen to – we owe this to Matt. His legacy is that Pearl Jam never became a legacy act. He was not of the Pearl Jam I saw on TV growing up. But he was the backbone of the Pearl Jam I was privileged to grow alongside of.
Rock bands have short life spans. Group dynamics are complicated under the best of circumstances, and having to maintain them under the glare and scrutiny of a sometimes obnoxious and entitled fan base (which is, to be fair, all fan bases) is hard to do. Bring in egos, money, the pressure and need of the machinery that depends on you, and it’s a miracle any of them survive. Most don’t. And most of us, therefore, find that our favorite music gets trapped in a particular moment in time – those brief windows when a band existed. And the music becomes a frozen, reified thing. Something we can go return to, or a piece of the past we can carry with us. But that relationship is always looking backwards, always recapturing something we had to leave behind.
But not for us. We have been blessed to grow old with our band. That the soundtrack of our lives is forever expanding, bridging our past, present and future is a gift we were given. Pearl Jam has been a constant in my life for almost 34 years – as a living, changing thing. The music did not just help me find and retain my youthful passion and outrage, but grapple with my adult responsibilities and obligations. It has been there to bridge the space between my dreams and my reality, to help me understand the world I grew up in, the world I made, and the one I will be passing on.
It is easy to take this for granted, and Matt’s departure is shocking because, whether we are conscious of it or not, it reminds us none of this is inevitable. None of it will last forever. It takes luck. It takes work. It takes love. It is a relationship, and now that will relationship will have to change. It is only appropriate that we grieve what is lost. It shaped our fandom. In countless ways, big and small, it helped shape who we are. It mattered. What follows will still be real. But it will be different.
I love Matt’s output with the band. He has anchored some stellar albums. He has been the drummer on some of my very favorite Pearl Jam songs. And he has even written a handful of my favorites. But his biggest contribution, I think, is the fact that Pearl Jam is still here. I don’t think it would be without him.
When Matt announced his retirement it was bittersweet. Matt has earned his the right to walk away on his own terms, while he can. Our heroes deserve the right to control their destiny. I wish him all the best in whatever happens next. I am sure he will be back on stage at one point. But I will miss him. What he accomplished, what he represented, and what he made possible.
This marks the end of an era, but not the end. This time I didn’t feel panic. Because Matt carried the rest of the band to a place where I no longer fear for Pearl Jam’s future. He made them comfortable in their skins. He made them enjoy being in a band together. He built the symbiotic and generative relationship they have with their fans. He helped turn concerts into revivals, and I just can’t imagine the band ever wanting to give that up. Pearl Jam will be different without him. But it will endure. Thanks to him.
Thank you Matt, for the music.
Thank you, Matt, for the memories.
Thank you, Matt, for putting in the work.
And thank you, Matt, for ensuring that this is not the end.
Yeah, that's my thought for #2. I think he may appear here and there and will sit in with the band for Seattle shows for a song or two. But 62 years old, I think any hard working drummer is ready to have a much deserved break. I can't imagine the toll it has taken on him from decades as a drummer. Hell, good for him to make it past 60 as a "hard rock" drummer.
There is no Soundgarden without Chris Cornell.
+1 And anyone looking for information or answers probably is not familiar how PJ operates.
2010: Newark 5/18 MSG 5/20-21 2011: PJ20 9/3-4 2012: Made In America 9/2
2013: Brooklyn 10/18-19 Philly 10/21-22 Hartford 10/25 2014: ACL10/12
2015: NYC 9/23 2016: Tampa 4/11 Philly 4/28-29 MSG 5/1-2 Fenway 8/5+8/7
2017: RRHoF 4/7 2018: Fenway 9/2+9/4 2021: Sea Hear Now 9/18
2022: MSG 9/11 2024: MSG 9/3-4 Philly 9/7+9/9 Fenway 9/15+9/17
2025: Pittsburgh 5/16+5/18
You should know that is how they work. And always have. When they have something to say, they will. It is unresolved. It is just a giant question mark. And that is ok.
Definitely.
Libtardaplorable©. And proud of it.
Brilliantati©
Thanks Matt for all the music! You will be sorely missed and I can’t wait to see you get inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame with Soundgarden this Fall.
Thank you Matt for being the ballast on the mighty Pearl Jam ship all these years. You will be missed and forever appreciated.
[80]