pearl jam played at the bonnaroo festival on saturday night, and i am so jealous because their setlist (and i know you can't judge a show just by the setlist, but...) looks AMAZING. i found a little blurb about it in the associated press, and this is my favorite part - because i can picture it, and it makes me so excited for boston (as if i weren't excited enough.. how am i going to make it through two more weeks of work?)
If he wasn't already, Vedder appeared completely converted to the joys of mega festivals when the band played "Better Man." The audience sang along and lifted lighters in the air, and only then did Vedder realize how large the crowd was. He muttered, "That's ... beautiful."
this weekend, i made copies of live on two legs and pearl jam for kristine, who i am dragging to boston with me (i already copied vitalogy for her. i would have done yield but my cd's are such a mess that i can't find it). it was really fun to listen to those, especially live on two legs which i'm sure i haven't heard since 1998. i also had an urge to watch some dvd's... i have a really odd relationship (well, it's hardly a relationship if it's only one-sided, but let's pretend) with pearl jam (and my other favorite band, the frames) in that i can go weeks without listening to them but then, when i do, it feels like i'm talking to my best friend again. i don't know how else to explain it. i guess it's because i've been listening to the music since i was 12 years old - i literally have grown up with it and have stories for almost all of the songs in my head. that's why i don't think i would ever want to meet any of the band members. what do you say to someone who has been such an important part of your life even though they don't know you? "uh, you're my favorite band" (all i unfortunately said to glen hansard) just doesn't seem to cut it.
i've been meaning to write about the book that i'm reading right now. it's called the cellist of sarajevo. you know how sometimes you find a book that you just don't want to put down? but at the same time, you're a little bit afraid to finish it because you love reading it so much? that's this book. the author has such a lovely rhythm to his writing, he can make words sound like songs. it takes place during the siege of sarajevo, sometime in the 1990's, and the character referenced in the title watches his neighbors killed by a morter while they stand in line for bread. he decides to play his cello on the street where they died for 28 days in rememberence. he never says why he decides to do this (well not yet anyway; i'm more than 2/3 through the book). is it an act of defiance? of resistance? of hope? i suspect a little bit of both. i think that, ultimately, his music becomes a source of healing for the city. even though there are snipers and morter attacks happening all around them, people can still gather and feel better together for a little while at least.
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