Pearl Jam reaches deep in Irvine

ED VEDDER: Pearl Jam's singer leads a 2 1/2 hour show featuring older material reshaped for its more mature sensibilities.

The group masters the tricky balance of power chords and a powerful message in its first O.C. show in a decade.

Yes, right, of course - Pearl Jam is most definitely not a jam band. Even if after all these grungeless years its increasingly young and ever-devoted audience has brought a vaguely Phish-y smell to the quintet's no-frills tours.

Even if the band goes out of its way to ensure that no two gigs are alike. Even if these days it's apt to let something as tightly structured as, oh, "Rearviewmirror" unwind into improvisational territory, providing otherwise unassuming Mike McCready, decked out in his best Social Distortion T-shirt, an opportunity to set his sights skyward and soar like a winged guitar god.

Right, fine. Not a jam band.

Yet for years now - ever since its albums stopped automatically going platinum - the Seattle outfit has faced the same demands of jam bands. Namely, that every show has to be at least as good as its predecessor, and that at least every third or fourth concert comes close to being a classic.

Our luck: We hit a high point in the cycle.

If you were among the thousands who turned out to see Pearl Jam kick the week off - and stuck around for the curfew-busting encores - consider yourself witness to a historic Orange County concert- going experience. If memory serves, Monday night was the first time Ed Vedder and pals have played Verizon er, excuse me, IRVINE MEADOWS – since Lollapalooza stopped here a decade ago.

That hardly qualifies this headlining return as historic. It merely lends a rarefied air, a significance steeped in a storied past. The sort of backdrop that provides intimate details, like Vedder's awareness of lawn bonfires, or his memory of watching Pearl Jam drummer Matt Cameron, then anchoring Soundgarden, at the forgotten festival A Gathering of the Tribes.

"It took 10 years to get from there to here," Vedder said, inspired after the band dusted off "Deep" for the first time in ages. And if that has you thinking this date of the trek was historic because of such resuscitated greats, well, you're only half-right.

Certainly this night had its fair share of atypical selections, not to mention radio hits, including all of the staples from "Ten": "Alive," "Jeremy," "Even Flow" (with a spontaneous jab at the FCC) and a deeply soulful "Black." All became chant-alongs, natch, but more importantly, all were performed with less bitter cynicism than they originally conveyed.

That is what made this one for posterity - feeling, timing, new meaning. It was the emotional juxtaposition, the anguished standards of their youth recontextualized by hopeful material from last year's outstanding "Riot Act," be it the healing groove of "You Are" ("Love is a tower, and you're the key") or the wisdom of their loveliest song, "Thumbing My Way" ("There's no wrong or right, but I know there's good and bad") or the peaceful call of "Love Boat Captain," which revives the Beatles' advice that "all you need is love."

Place more importance on that than on what sort of political statements Vedder made. Certainly a few were expected: His drawling renditions of the prez-bashing "Bushleaguer" are becoming legendary, and lately the band has been digging up the Clash's "Know Your Rights" and CCR's "Fortunate Son" for encores.

Here, Vedder opted for a cover of Lennon's "Gimme Some Truth" (with "money for oil" instead of dope and "son of Georgy-George" replacing Tricky Dick), then complemented it beautifully with the determined individualism of "I Am Mine." Later, he muttered a few lines from Ben Harper's "With My Own Two Hands" and delivered a sparse take on Steven Van Zandt's "I Am a Patriot," backed only by Cameron's basic stomp. ("I love my country," he sang, "because my country is all I know.")

But it was the compassion behind even cranky moments that made this one unique, instances that remind why Pearl Jam is so far beyond the meager angst of today's rock. Never content to dwell on the negative, always looking for a better future, the group now is attempting that most difficult of balancing acts - teaching peace without preaching about it.

And doing it while rocking with ungodly force.

As I mentioned, their 2½- hour set broke the sound curfew, a stunt Vedder said would cost them five grand. Given that the house lights came on after "Crazy Mary" but before the Who's "Baby O'Riley" and a crowd-thrilling "Yellow Ledbetter," I bet they paid more.

That only added to the sense of history being made. Call 'em legends and look what they go and do - play like it. So masterfully, in fact, that I had no choice but to return Tuesday night. Details in Pop Life on Friday.