2 weeks Ago
I ESCAPED the blather of politics to attend the reunion tour of Jane’s Addiction, and yes, I was there, in the second row, when lead man Perry Farrell took a swing at Dave Navarro during their performance of “Ocean Size” from their debut album Nothing’s Shocking. It was more than a moment of temperament gone awry, it was symbolic of a tumultuous generation (X) and a sort of apparent death of my youth. Jane’s Addiction was my first hard-rock band, a departure from my bottle feeding of pop rock and punk synth.
I was ill prepared for the onslaught of Farrell’s high pitched voice and Navarro’s bombastic shreds. The album cover was also a departure from what was a comfort zone for most. Posed upon the card stock was an eerie sculpture of two female figures perched upon a tandem rocking chair, hair ablaze and breasts affront.
It was the most sexually deviant thing my eyes had witnessed since Angie Dickinson’s erotic murder scene in the film “Dressed to Kill.” Sex is violent, Farrell croons from behind their ode to serial killer Ted Bundy, “Ted, Just Admit It.” He drove the sentiment home with redundancy and fervor.
As a young woman, it instilled a sense of fear of the predatory capabilities of men in a modern society when left unchecked. This was my coming of age album — 1987 was a summer of love and personal growth. I lost my virginity to the hypnotic melody of “Summertime Rolls” and was emboldened by the hard charge of “Mountain Song,” which drilled home that everybody has their own opinion and that holding it back hurts so bad.
This was apparent when Farrell asked the audience if they have ever been hated. He was feeling it and finding solace in the bottom of the vessel of wine he carried on stage. The lack of showmanship at the show was a true disappointment; the utter surprise of the crowd witnessing their idol take a swing at a guitar legend was bemusing at first and then the collective query turned to anger.
The set was cut short, which left many out in the cold, pining to hear their favorite tune from the band’s second album, “Been Caught Stealing.” The lights came on and a hoard of fans grumbled as they made their way toward the door knowing their band would not take the stage again, if ever. We are left to mourn the music we grew to love at a time when many of us were at a crossroads in our formative years.
We find ourselves searching for the bottle of youth in our music and what was offered in Boston was a band of exemplary musicians who lost their front man to his Lollapalooza of demons..
