Back in 1992 I started saying, "The worst thing about Eddie Vedder, believe it or not, isn't Eddie Vedder. It's the million-and-one idiots we have to listen to ripping him off." To understand the significance of this statement, let's examine how annoying Eddie was himself.
Leading a band of ex-jocks (their first album's title comes from their favorite player's jersey number - need I say more?) recycling the worst 70s hard rock riffs they could find, Eddie and his band never came close to living up to the hype of the foaming grommets at the time: "This is NEW music, man, the Seattle sound is something we've NEVER heard! The singer is SOOOOO sensitive! And that voice - those are some powerful pipes!!!!" The 'sensitivity' was far from original; we've seen screwed-up male artists who were truly in touch with their emotions, feminine and otherwise, throughout history. The Pearl Jam brand of sensitivity was a most disturbing sort: the frustrated high school wrestler who used to beat you up pretending to care about fellow man. The issue of "those pipes, man!": PLEASE MOMMY, MAKE IT STOP!!!!! Having spent the early part of my career as a vocalist trying to imitate pouty British mope-rockers like Morrissey and Ian McCulloch, you would be right in suspecting that I have an above-average tolerance level for annoying vocals. But the line was drawn quickly back in '91. The Eddie Vedder sound is a hard rock, machismo version of the Bob Dylan cliché: a nasal, constipated tone that any monkey can master. It makes a great party trick - go ahead, try it yourself: "Freeeeezzunnn...rests his head on a pillow made of concrete...unnggghhhhain!!" We know you're tortured, man - don't worry! If you haven't quite got it down yet, have a few beers at your local frat house next Friday night - you're not so far away, son! Really, never have I seen such lack of talent be held in such high regard. Give me 80s hair metal castrati screamers any day.
The Constipated Baritone held high court in popular music throughout the 90s. When Scott Weiland started ripping off Eddie in 1992, the style was already well worn, old hat. Should we waste a little time with the ultimate identity crisis band? If memory serves, the Stone Temple Pilots' first album ran every base in the Seattle-sound ballpark. You could have a little chunk of Soundgarden guitar sound here, a little major/minor second vocal harmony ala Alice in Chains there, plenty of Constipated Baritone throughout. Brilliant. The CB weaseled its way into 'softer' musical genres as well, showing up in nouveau folk a little too often for my tastes. But like some sort of honor gone wrong, the Hard Rock Ring of the Constipated Baritone™ has slowly been passed throughout the years, and this is where the main focus of the CB fan lies. In recent years the high profile Poster Boy of the Constipated Baritone has been Scott Stapp of Creed.
Speaking of the most pasteurized, homogenized, mindless rock band in all of history, the Constipated Baritone is often passed off as having some Jim Morrison ancestry. WHAT? Even the highest members of the Court of the Constipated Baritone are to Morrison what the single celled amoeba is to the warm blooded mammal: separated by infinite degrees of complexity.
I have spouted all sorts of words around the real point here: this was old hat in 1992, but here we are over ten years later with the same shit, different day! PLEASE MOMMY, MAKE IT STOP!!!
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