Pitchfork

I can't deny my respect for Pearl Jam. They rock it to the top. Not only are they musically amazing, they're also able to exercise the political aspects that come with the territory provided by their being one of the world's most popular bands. The only other group with that kind of political power at this point in time is the Smashing Pumpkins, and the only message they're sending is that not all balding men look better with their heads shaved.

No Code comes in a neato, quadruple-gatefold package with 144 Polaroids on the cover (all taken by Vedder) and 13 Polaroid replicas with lyrics scrawled on their backs. You can only imagine how expensive this must have been. And on top of all that cash, No Code doesn't seem to be doing very well on the charts. (Oops!) That's probably due to the fact that each of Pearl Jam's albums are just mildly more disappointing than their predecessors. Which isn't to say the disc doesn't have its moments. You've got the thrashing, typical Pearl Jam song, "Hail, Hail," the Bono-fied "In My Tree," and the All-American rock-out, "Habit"-- but most of these songs just drag, and that's good for nobody.

The opening track, "Sometimes," a Neil Young-inspired dramafest, is boring beyond the point of sleep, and the Grateful Deadly campfire singalong, "Who You Are," makes me gag with hatred. I can't remember the rest of the songs. That's 'cause there's a ton of filler here. In fact, it's almost all filler. Like those weak remix EPs they put out to tide you over until the next big release.

Still, No Code's a nice listen for that long drive to the cabin, but if you're looking for the overpowering, brooding, political hate anthems this band has formerly been known to release, just hope you can find it on the next record.