The 1994 sonic assault Vitalogy brought an end to the first era of Pearl Jam's career. Balancing powerhouse singles ("Better Man," "Corduroy") against clenched-fist ruminations at various speeds (the haunting, elegiac "Immortality," the pure punk rush of "Spin The Black Circle"), the band effectively maxed-out its gas tank of unleaded rock angst.

Pearl Jam's first three albums sold over 18 million copies in the U.S. alone. But mainstream popularity hung around the band, and lead singer Eddie Vedder's neck like an albatross. Pearl Jam made precisely zero videos for Vitalogy or its predecessor Vs., and in the meantime battled Ticketmaster's service charges by attempting to mount tours in alternate venues. And although a directional change was clear by the end of 1995, the Seattle quintet was still the biggest band in the U.S. when it wrapped up a stadium tour that November. Something had to give, but few would have predicted that throwing the blueprints out the window would yield an album like No Code.

No Code is a startling change of direction for a band that will be forever associated with its grunge heritage. Offering a much more balanced songwriting palette than Vitalogy, the album introduces drummer Jack Irons into the fold and features the lead vocal debut of anyone other than Vedder; this time, it's guitarist Stone Gossard. That small fact is indicative of the album's adventurous spirit, and the sense of internal freedom that opened up the band to newfound levels of collaboration.

The proverbial blackboard first began to get erased when, at the height of its popularity, Pearl Jam teamed with Neil Young for the 1995 album Mirror Ball. Although Epic Records forbade Pearl Jam's name from appearing on the album packaging, the ragtag Mirror Ball was a hit, earning Young his highest chart showing in 23 years. During these sessions, Pearl Jam recorded two songs of its own that would prove important in the evolution of its sound. The tracks -- "I Got ID" and "Long Road" -- bore scant resemblance to those on Vitalogy, with their stripped-down, chill-enducing melodies and optimistic sentiments. It's no surprise that both became concert favorites, nor that they apparently had a strong influence on the vibe that No Code would come to possess.

On No Code, the contributions of former Red Hot Chili Peppers drummer Irons to the songwriting process are evident in nearly every song, especially the track chosen as the album's first single. "Who You Are" features a rumbling tom-tom beat behind a spiritual Vedder melody, and includes hand-claps, a piano and a sitar. In one fail swoop, "Who You Are" announces to the masses that the Pearl Jam of anthems such as "Alive" and "Jeremy" won't be coming to dinner. It was a risky move, but one that shook free any number of commercial expectations.

Perhaps a more likely pick would have been "In My Tree," where tribal beats build a galloping foundation for the chorus' cathartic sting, reminiscent of early U2. But No Code has no shortage of Pearl Jam's awesome rock power, as the neckbreaking "Hail, Hail," "Habit," with its pounding sneer, and "Mankind," an attack on modern rock sung by Gossard, are some of the finest the band has ever recorded.

New experiments are bustling on No Code. The ballad "Off He Goes" would fit well on a '60s country and western record, while the swaying guitars and tenderly-delivered vocals on closer "Around The Bend" conjure images of sunset in paradise. "I'm Open" is a brief, mostly spoken-word piece, as Vedder curiously asks about his character: "He's alive, but feels absolutely nothing, so, is he?"

But for all the new territory it covers, the band remains true to a familiar influence: Young. The ragged, four-chord choruses and harmonica solos of "Smile," Vedder's jittered musings on eerie opener "Sometimes," the slow-burning "Present Tense" and the slide-guitar laden, classic rock nod "Red Mosquito" all bear the evidence of Young's profound stamp on the band, Vedder especially.

"Present Tense" also serves as No Code's conceptual center, arguably making the best use of the simpler-is-better motif. It's a certifiable epic, ranging from a somber introduction to a soaring jam at its end, at once intense and calming. Sandwiched between the harsh, one-minute punk of "Lukin" and the head-bobbing power-pop of "Mankind," it helps to unify the somewhat scattershot feel of the album's second half.

To complete the transition into a new period, Pearl Jam doggedly stuck to the one tenet that had previously seemed to work in its commercial favor: it did little promotion or touring to support No Code, partially resulting in the band's lowest album sales to date (No Code has sold more than 1.5 million copies as of Dec. 1999). Once again, no videos were made, and on a fall 1996 jaunt, the band played nearly double the amount of shows in Europe as it did in the U.S.

Nevertheless, No Code is the musical statement that definitively separated Pearl Jam from alternative rock's rank and file - an album wherein fist-pumping and solemn contemplation co-exist like old friends.