22. Eddie Vedder
Hammersmith Apollo
30 July 2012
It’s a perfect day in London; twenty degrees, sun shining, the kind of weather that practically begs you to neck cold pints by the Thames. However, we are not basking with a dewy, iced drinks, instead we are holed up inside a slightly haunted Victorian music venue, parked on velvet seats that last saw proper cushioning in 1976, watching Eddie Vedder strumming a bloody ukulele.
The growling godfather of grunge has ditched the distortion pedals and picked up a teeny, tiny guitar. Welcome to the Ukulele Tour: because apparently, 2012 just isn’t weird enough.
Now, in our excitement, we may have “forgotten” to mention to one of our more rock-leaning mates that he might not be about to tear the venue asunder with his signature roar over screaming guitars. Judging by his wide-eyed stare as Vedder hits the second uke ballad with song that appeared to be about, I think, a dying lighthouse. Well, it’s safe to say he is a bit taken aback.
But here’s the twist: it works. Somehow. Against all odds, watching Vedder perched on a stool, hunched over a shrunken instrument like a campfire prophet, is oddly compelling. He’s still got that voice, that elemental, gravel-flavoured baritone that sounds like it was aged in bourbon and now he’s using it to croon over four-stringed melancholy.
With just one album of ukulele material to his name, he soon starts dipping into covers, and that’s where things properly lift off. Cat Stevens’ “Trouble” is glorious. Pink Floyd’s “Brain Damage” becomes haunting. He takes laps through Springsteen, The Beatles, and The Everly Brothers, with a tasteful smattering of acoustic Pearl Jam thrown in, because even ukulele Vedder knows when to give the people their “Black” hit of emotional masochism.
By the end, we’re converted. It’s tender. It’s surprising. It’s like discovering the bouncer on the club door has a delicate poetry blog. We had walked in wondering why we’d voluntarily swapped sunshine and Stella for ukulele plucking. We left knowing we’d made the right call. Besides, the riverside pints will still be there tomorrow, unless it rains. Which it will. Obviously.