My friend, Emily, is studying massage at a local school. I've waited a long time for a friend in massage school, because I am nothing if not completely dependant on regular muscular manipulation. Any of my ex-boyfriends, and most certainly my current amour, would recognize the slightly whiny, pensive-but-hopeful tone I take on when requesting a shoulder massage.

So, when Emily offered her friends the opportunity to have free massages, it didn't take long for me to make an appointment. I've had four so far, and she is making great progress. She gives one heckuva free full-body massage, and recommends helpful stretches and such as well. For that reason, I eagerly anticipated my appointment with her last Friday afternoon.linklinklink

I showed up at 6pm, as usual, and we chatted a bit before I undressed and got on the table.linklinklink

Emily lives directly above one of my favorite record shops, Easy Street.linklinklink Her constant pre-9pm companion is whatever hipster musician du jour strikes the fancy of the employees.linklinklink My massages have included a soundtrack consisting of electroclash, urban Brit-grime, and one time, Johnny Cash.linklinklink

Friday, though, featured a live band.linklinklink When I got on the table, someone began beating a bass drum, and another started fiddling with an electric guitar.linklinklink

"Check, check, check.linklinklink"

"I'm sorry, they're doing an in-store [performance]," Emily said.linklinklink

I assured her that it wouldn't interfere with my ability to relax, since, uh, it's a free massage.linklinklink Like I'm going to fuss.linklinklink

She apologized a few more times, lit some sandalwood incense, and started some nondescript relaxation music.linklinklink She began.linklinklink

So did the rock music directly below us.linklinklink

The room pulsed with the persistent beat of the drums, the sound of guitars came up muffled through the carpet and floorboards.linklinklink I tested my ability to place the music, wondering if it was the Kings of Leon in-store I'd read about in The Stranger.linklinklink

No, it wasn't the Kings, and I stopped caring who it was at all once Emily started working on my exceedingly achy right shoulder.linklinklink

Just as I was approaching light-snooze mode, Emily gently rested her two palms flat on my back.linklinklink I knew she was stopping for a moment, so I perked up, ready to respond.linklinklink

"Jana?"

"Mmmhmm.linklinklink..?" I mumbled back laboriously.linklinklink

"I think that's Pearl Jam," she said with a subtle mix of both certainty and a twinge doubt.linklinklink

I know that feeling.linklinklink I've had it when a diminutive, be-speckled figure walks up the street before a Ben Folds show.linklinklink It's too far away to tell, but then again, who else could it be? In Emily's apartment, she heard the tell-tale licks of the guitar, and the unmistakable voice of Eddie Vedder.linklinklink

Once she pointed out what should have been obvious, I caught up.linklinklink Of course it was Pearl Jam.linklinklink That voice.linklinklink..

The first question we asked ourselves, and each other, was, what the hell is Pearl Jam doing playing an in-store at the West Seattle Easy Street? Emily was quick with the fan knowledge.linklinklink

"They're about to go out on a Canadian tour!" she said, excited.linklinklink

I once owned Ten, but that is the extent of my Pearl Jam knowledge.linklinklink

It wasn't the extent of my Eddie Vedder knowledge, though.linklinklink I know that Eddie and I live in the same neighborhood.linklinklink Me, on the Admiral Way end, and he further south, within walking distance of The Junction.linklinklink

It made sense that Vedder and Co.linklinklink were in the neighborhood, it just made no logical sense that they'd be promoting anything in the small confines of the record shop.linklinklink We determined that we'd go investigate.linklinklink

I dressed, and we dashed downstairs, all the while hearing Eddie yowl, unintelligibly.linklinklink To me, he always sounds fairly unintelligible, but Emily assured me that this was more than normal.linklinklink It was as though he was only practicing; not giving his vocals the usual treatment.linklinklink

We walked out the door and around the building to the facade, where black curtains draped from one end of the of display window to the other.linklinklink The front door opened and closed, as gruff-looking, pierced and inked (we'll call 'em "pinked"!) guys purposefully walked about.linklinklink No truck in sight, neither errant equipment, so it's unclear what the pressing business was.linklinklink The sounds drifting into the street were definitely Pearl Jam, so any lingering doubt or confusion dissipated.linklinklink

It was time to figure out what was going on, and better yet, if we could be a part of it.linklinklink

Two of the guys stood guard at the door, shooting menacing looks at the passersby, most of whom, I'm betting, did not recognize the music playing.linklinklink The look on their faces made clear the assumption that everyone was a potential crazed fan, ready to storm the place.linklinklink Since Emily and I lingered on the sidewalk, we become de facto crazy fans.linklinklink

Stepping forward, they looked at us, crossing their arms.linklinklink More pinked guys came and went, and we unabashedly craned our necks to catch a glimpse.linklinklink The lights were lowered, and it was difficult to see even the front counter, what with the black curtains blocking all incoming light.linklinklink

"What's going on in there?" Emily asked one of the guards.linklinklink

"They're testing equipment," he replied.linklinklink

Well, that answered everything.

We walked away, full of questions and lacking any sort of answer.linklinklink

After drifting upstairs, Emily and I listened to the muffled faux-cert below and traded stories of our celebrity encounters.linklinklink This, of course, qualifies as a Not!Counter, since I never caught a glimpse of the band.linklinklink As it turns out, Emily further investigated, and found out there was later a private party of some kind.linklinklink

That answer, while perfectly reasonable, does nothing for the mysterious choice of Easy Street for private party revelry.linklinklink Pearl Jam is one of the most popular bands on planet earth.linklinklink Can't they do better? Don't get me started on shutting down the shop to the plebes like me, to party, what? Among the record shelves?

Oh well.linklinklink I'll have to shop for vinyl another day.linklinklink