A Look Back at Pearl Jam's 1994 Gatecrashing Riot in Miami (2025)

As Pearl Jam returns to South Florida for two shows at Hard Rock Live on Thursday, April 24, and Saturday, April 26, I'm reminded of the last time I saw them play.

Pearl Jam's show at Bayfront Park Amphitheater on March 28, 1994, was the band's first South Florida appearance. Previously, in April 1992, they played at the Cameo Theater in Miami Beach, only to return a few months later as part of Lollapalooza, which took place at Bicentennial Park a few days before Hurricane Andrew demolished Dade County.

However, the Bayfront Park show in '94 made national headlines thanks to thousands of gatecrashers hoping to see the band. Trust me, I was one of them. While it doesn't quite have the cache of attending the Doors' infamous 1969 show at the Dinner Key Auditorium in Coconut Grove, where Jim Morrison got arrested for flashing the crowd, Pearl Jam's Miami show was a significant marker in rock history.

The concert was the week before my tenth-grade spring break, and another epic show made its way to town the same week. On March 30, 1994, Pink Floyd was set to play Joe Robbie Stadium as part of the band's last ever tour. Unfortunately, my parents would only let me escape to one, so I chose Pearl Jam to my everlasting shame. Whenever someone recounted to me the Pink Floyd show, they spoke about how a combination of psychedelics and hearing "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" made them think the stadium was going to take off to outer space. To this day, I still feel sick to my stomach knowing that I had missed the opportunity.

I've described seeing Pearl Jam over Pink Floyd as my biggest concert regret. But if I think back to the why, I'd have to put myself further back in time to 1992, when the only way a 13-year-old could be exposed to new music was by leaving MTV on and watching whatever videos the programmers put in front of them. One night, I saw the black-and-white video for "Alive." It stood out from the over-polished visuals of Guns N' Roses and Metallica. The underproduced music sounded even rawer than what Nirvana and Soundgarden had just released. Singer Eddie Vedder mumbled through lyrics and seemed to live every word. The music and the words felt so genuine, both bittersweet and triumphant. The next cassette I bought was their debut album, Ten. Ilistened to it with a devotion you could only have when musical selection was limited to your personal collection and whatever the radio and MTV broadcast.

The following year, Pearl Jam released its sophomore album Vs.It came a month after Nirvana's In Utero. It was Vs., however, that had me taking the bus down after school to Y&T Records on Bird Road to buy on release day. With that context, I can forgive my younger self for choosing Pearl Jam over Pink Floyd.

It's a bit harder to explain how I expected to see a sold-out show for which I didn't have a ticket. Maybe it was a sense of entitlement. I suppose I had recent memories of spending the money I earned bagging groceries at Winn-Dixie to buy a ticket to see Nirvana, only to see a mass of people gracefully hop the fence and get to save $20 for a concert T-shirt.

Regardless, I got to Biscayne Boulevard for a Pearl Jam show I didn't have tickets for while it was still daylight. Two friends and I circled Bayfront Park several times, looking for a weak spot in their security. We saw a group of college-aged dudes working the event, entering through a back entrance. We tried to tiptoe discreetly past security as though we were part of the working class, but one of the dudes caught on to us and warned security, "There are only ten of us. Don't let anyone past the ten of us in."

As showtime crept closer, we returned to Bayside and found our people. A group of teenagers was trying to organize a mass uprising. The plan was that after sunset, they would bring down the fences. At that point, there were about 20 of us, and I'll never forget this piece of advice the shaved-head teenage ringleader told everyone, "Remember, pull on the fence, don't push it. You pull it and it comes right down."

As day became night, the group had ballooned to at least a hundred, and everyone ran for the fence. Everyone pulled, and sure enough, it came right down. In hindsight, what could my generation have accomplished if we put this collective energy into something productive? At this point in our lives, a free Pearl Jam show seemed like the worthiest of causes.

I ran up the hill with all my might. I couldn't believe I was in. But as I got off the grass onto the concrete, an arm came down, clotheslining me, knocking me to the ground. My immediate reaction was that I was busted. A cop or security guard caught me in the act of trespassing. I had so much adrenaline that I jumped right back up to my feet without feeling a thing. Terror went to glee as I saw it wasn't an authority figure who stopped me, just either another anarchist or someone jealous that I got into a concert they paid $25 to enter. Regardless, I was at a Pearl Jam show. I ran toward the stage. At every Bayfront Park concert I had previously attended, you could sit wherever you wanted, the grass, the seats, or if you were willing to brave elbows to the head and steel-toed Doc Martens stomping into your feet, you could get into the mosh pit and endure the show steps from the stage. But at Pearl Jam, this was no longer the case. While there was no security at the fence, there was now tiered seating with security holding the line between those with general admission and those with preferred seating.

I don't remember many details about the performance. An audio recording on YouTube of the entire concert didn't jog any memories either. I'm sure I sang along in unison to "Alive" as you can hear the crowd doing, but I have no memory of it. I remember two shirtless, bearded, long-haired, brawny guys egging each other on. One pointed out a helicopter whirling above them, and almost as if there was telepathy between them, they both had the same simultaneous reaction. They stuck out their middle fingers and shouted "Fuck you!" into the sky. It was only then that I noticed it was a police helicopter.

Turned out the revolution for free music caused quite a stir. Riot police were brought in to man the torn-down fences, and with bottles thrown at the enforcers. There were a few arrests, and the brouhaha made national news, even on my beloved MTV. A friend who went to the concert with me had the bright idea of asking New Times if they'd like an account of what happened. I'm unsure how he got hold of the editor in those pre-email days, but he did, and they even sent him a $20 check for his writing services.

From 2025, this 1994 Pearl Jam show seems like a tipping point. Though with or without a few rowdy Miami teenagers tearing down a fence, certainly the same events would have ensued. A band that was once considered alternative now had a sound so beloved that a huge amphitheater couldn't house all their fans. Songs that were once for the few are now for the many. There was money to be made, and no expense would be spared for increased access. Thirty-one years later, it's to the point that the cheapest current Pearl Jam tickets go for $177 at face value.

A week after Pearl Jam's Bayfront concert,on April 5, 1994, Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain shot himself, dying by suicide. In the Beatles vs. Rolling Stones battle that Pearl Jam and Nirvana once approached, Nirvana stayed eternally young while Pearl Jam kept trucking along. Eight months after the concert, Pearl Jam released their third record, Vitalogy. Not only did I not rush out to buy that CD on opening day, but I don't think I ever listened to it until now, as I'm writing these words. I listen to Smashing Pumpkins; it takes me back to being 15. I listen to Nirvana; it does the same.

But now I listen to Pearl Jam, and I am in disbelief that I once chose them over Pink Floyd.

How did my taste change so much? Are all the awful Eddie Vedder imitators from Creed to Nickelback at fault for cheapening the original? Did their original selling points of earnestness and seriousness start to feel like a drag? Or was it the fact that theirs was the show that segregated the once egalitarian Bayfront Park?

Maybe you outgrow certain things, for better or worse, like tearing down fences. But there was a moment when Pearl Jam was a band I was willing to break the law to see.

Pearl Jam. With Dead Pioneers. 7:30 p.m. Thursday, April 24, and Saturday, April 26, at Hard Rock Live, 1 Seminole Way, Hollywood; 954-797-5531; myhrl.com. Sold out.