There’s a deodorant company that claims that smell is the strongest sense tied to memory. This may be true, but in my mind sound is a close second. When I hear Ten, I hear something so full (so alive, even) that it transports me back to the carpeted confines of my family room. I can’t shake the sense of power I felt as a 9-year-old, listening, laying down on the rug, to music that featured driving riffs unlike any I had ever heard before, courtesy of my dad. Whereas Ten is a prototype for early-90’s grungers, it to me simply represents rock ‘n roll. As an innocent 9-year-old, it wasn’t like I was looking to fight The Man. So what if I missed out on the zeitgeist of Ten’s release? Its unbelievably solid riffs coupled with Eddie Vedder’s leathery croaks opened me up to a whole new world of music and the concept that not all songs need be tailored to fit the radio’s preference for three and a half minute sprints. Ten has followed me in the 10 years that followed, offering me an instant ticket back to that rug no matter how far away from home I am.

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