looking at a pearl jam concert from 24 years ago, i squint to read the tiny type at the bottom. american music club. i had totally forgotten. now i’m falling in love with them all over again this morning. “this is the part where you could sing along. but you won’t,” he told us once in a bar with a chainlink fence. and we didn’t. sorry, mr. eitzel. i’m singing now. i hope you can hear me.