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The return of Jane’s Addiction and Lollapalooza
BY MATT ASHARE
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More often than not, it seems that the Pixies are credited with building that crucial bridge that linked the post-punk indie-rock underground of the late ’80s with the alternative-rock revolution of the early ’90s. And why not? After all, Kurt Cobain himself cited them as the main inspiration for the explosive structure of "Smells like Teen Spirit," even if there were also shades of "More Than a Feeling" in the song’s salient chord progression. But aside from one minor quirky hit that they rarely if ever played live ("Here Comes Your Man"), the Pixies never made much of a commercial impact here in the US. And as beloved as they were by so many of the bands who would go on to form the backbone of the alternative nation, they didn’t do half as much to link the leather-and-lace metal of the late ’80s with the jeans-and-T-shirt grunge of the early ’90s as Jane’s Addiction, the one leader among the early alternative acts that was actually charting and moving units prior to the tumultuous chain of events set off in 1991 by Nevermind. Jane’s Addiction, who just released Strays (Capitol), their first studio album in 13 years, and are part of the Lollapalooza tour that comes to the Tweeter Center next Friday, never had the indie cred of a band like the Pixies, even if both recorded for major labels. And they were simply too successful — and too metal in an LA sort of way — to be admitted to the critics’ cool club. Which is exactly what made them so important in catalyzing the transition from the hairsprayed Sunset Strip variety typified by the flashy clothes and flashier guitar solos of Poison, Mötley Crüe, and even Guns N’ Roses in their first incarnation to the Seattle-spawned grunge of detuned guitars, torn T-shirts, unkempt manes, and angst-ridden vocals. Although Jane’s were clearly a breed apart from the Poisons of the world, they were metal enough to get on Headbanger’s Ball, and between Dave Navarro’s shredding guitar solos and Stephen Perkins’s monstrous drumming, they were flashy enough to make it on Sunset Strip. Yet there was no mistaking the obvious differences that Perry Farrell brought with him as a frontman, from his odd fusion of gothic-vampire/glam-rock junkie looks to the otherworldly sound of his electronically treated vocals. It had become fashionable among LA metalheads to celebrate the debauchery of Sunset Strip, but with one song — their signature "Jane Says" — Farrell turned that view on its head by identifying and even empathizing with the junkie transvestite hooker of the title. It was a little twist that made a big difference. And if at the time there didn’t seem to be such a huge difference between Jane’s and the rest of the bands on the Strip, well, those little differences ended up meaning a whole lot when the floodgates opened in ’92 — five years after Jane’s Addiction released their indie debut, and four since their Warner debut, Nothing’s Shocking, had put "Jane Says" on the radio. But even if you don’t buy any of those arguments about the role Jane’s Addiction played in ushering in the era of alternative, there’s no denying the prescience that was embodied in a little idea Perry Farrell put into the action in the summer of 1991: throw a bunch of somewhat-left-of-center bands together on a bill, give it an odd name like Lollapalooza, and create a traveling musical circus capable of filling venues 10 times as big as most of the artists could fill on their own. That first Lollapalooza, the one that featured Jane’s Addiction on what would be their farewell-for-a-while tour, took place before "Smells like Teen Spirit" hit the airwaves. Before there was anything called the alternative nation. Before there was a Kennedy on MTV. And if the success of that first Lollapalooza did nothing else, it certainly opened major-label eyes to the money that could be made from bands who had previously been eking out careers on independent labels — bands like the Butthole Surfers, who found themselves with a nice fat Capitol deal and, eventually, a bona fide hit single. Calling it quits when Jane’s Addiction were at the height of their popularity was an act of extreme hubris, courage, or stupidity on Farrell’s part. Whichever, he proved incapable of improving upon the Jane’s formula with his next outfit, Porno for Pyros. And his one solo album, 2001’s Songs Yet To Be Sung (Virgin), proved that he was in no position to be making music on his own. On the other hand, the once-thriving Lollapalooza took a nosedive once he was forced out and managed to limp along for only a couple of years without him before folding. So it’s clear he had something to offer. Fortunately, though Perkins remained Farrell’s faithful drummer through thick and thin, Navarro didn’t fare all that well on his own either. Aside from sitting in with the Red Hot Chili Peppers for an album and a tour, and writing an as-yet-unpublished book that chronicled his willful descent into heroin addiction, he released a solo album on Capitol (Trust No One) that, if it isn’t already out of print, ought to be, if only to protect the artist. But the coincidental releases of both the Farrell and Navarro solo discs in 2001 did have an upside: they brought the band, minus founding bassist Eric Avery, back together for something more substantial than just a moneymaking venture like the humorously titled "Relapse" tour that followed the release of the 1997 Warner Bros. retrospective Kettle Whistle and featured Flea (over)playing bass. Indeed, even Farrell is now willing to concede that breaking the band up was a mistake of sorts. "Well, you know, at the time I didn’t regret it," he says over the phone from his home in LA. "But looking back today, I can say that I probably do. The right thing to do would have been to confront each other and work through the problems we had back then. We weren’t good at confronting each other on things. You know, whispers, rumors, talking behind people’s backs. Throw the drugs, which I think were a major result of all that stuff, on top of all that and you’ve got trouble. Mostly it was just about lack of friendship and regard for each other. "I mean, I didn’t even know these guys’ phone numbers, if you can believe that. And they didn’t know mine. They could have gotten hold of me and I could have gotten hold of them if I had wanted to. But we never called each other, as we do every morning now, just to say hello and check in. It’s just one of those things where people mature emotionally and you see what you’ve missed in your life and what you’ve potentially given up. It’s maybe like if you had a first love and you let her go but you still think about her. That’s what it was like with us. After years of bopping around and straying around, we got back on stage with each other for that Relapse tour and it felt great. You know, the explosion that happens on stage and using those songs to get off on just feels so good. And then we did it again on the Jubilee tour, and it became apparent that if we didn’t write new material, then we weren’t going to be able to do it again, because by then it would have become kind of a farce." It’s not all that surprising that Farrell and Navarro were able to put whatever issues they had behind them and write a full album of new Jane’s material — they’d already pretty much buried the hatchet on the Jubilee tour. What is unexpected, given the degree to which Farrell immersed himself in electronica and new digital frontiers during his decade away from Jane’s, is the unwavering rockist orientation of Strays. The disc opens with an electronic feint — a little programmed rhythmic snippet — and then the guitars kick in, gently at first, but then with monstrous force. And with the exception of the "Jane Says"–style acoustic number and the occasional psychedelic respite, Navarro’s wall of guitars remain front and center, filling every nook and cranny with a rhythmic flourish or a fleet-fingered run. It’s as if ENIT (Farrell’s post-Lollapalooza attempt to organize a rave-oriented festival tour) and all the programmed nonsense on Songs Yet To Be Sung had never happened. For his part, Navarro sounds delighted to be back playing the role of guitar hero after trying the uncomfortable fit of singer-songwriter for an album and a tour. Strays amounts to Jane’s picking up right where the art-damaged, funk-inflected, metal-edged hard rock of 1990’s Ritual de lo Habitual left off. It does make one wonder whether the shamanistic Farrell has at last given up on the digitized new-age daydreams he preached about so earnestly in the past. "Originally we had ideas and intentions to work with electronic music and cross it with what Jane’s do, because I thought that would be a big accomplishment," he explains. "And what I found, happily, I guess, is that Jane’s Addiction really doesn’t need loops. People will be taking loops from Jane’s Addiction. We tried to play off machines, but we found that it was a bore. Not that it can’t be fun, but for the kind of material we’re doing and the explosiveness that the band puts out, you don’t want to be a slave to a machine. "I’ve found that there are some bands who are really enhanced by electronic music, bands that maybe don’t have great timing or maybe their tones aren’t quite right, or maybe they just can’t pull it off live well enough without the electronics. But in our case, the electronic stuff was holding us back. So what we did was, we still chose to use the modern synths, but we recorded the band first and then we came in with a real synth player to add what we call ‘moments’ — bits at the top of a bridge where it sounds like the whole thing is coming unglued, or little sonic pieces — and that’s where we put in our little modern twists." Those so-called "modern" twists aren’t half as apparent as the disc’s allusions to Jane’s hits of the past. New bassist Chris Chaney is even given space to re-create the kind of melodic hooks that defined Avery’s playing and were one of the band’s trademark features in songs like "Three Days." Everything else, from the scratchy funk guitar of "Been Caught Stealing" to the fierce, metallic roar of "Mountain Song," is echoed somewhere here. And though it doesn’t have a single as catchy as "Been Caught Stealing" or a number with the depth of "Jane Says," Strays may be Jane’s Addiction’s most coherent album from beginning to end. It brings to mind that old cliché about real bands being more than the sum of their individual parts. "Yeah, that phrase has been getting used about us a whole lot," Farrell concedes. "I will say that I’ve never found a guitarist like Dave since the days that I worked with him, or a drummer like Stephen. I happen to think that there’s not a better musical situation for me in my life than Jane’s. That’s just the way it is." Lollapalooza, featuring Jane’s Addiction, Audioslave, Incubus, Queens of the Stone Age, Jurassic 5, and the Donnas comes to the Tweeter Center in Mansfield next Friday, July 25; call (617) 423-NEXT.
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