A requiem for Jane's Addiction
Lamenting the ugly end of my childhood favorite band, digging through the best of their early live footage, and an exploration of the non-Perry Farrell, post-Jane's Addiction side projects.
At the peak of Jane’s Addiction’s fame, Dave Navarro and Perry Farrell brawled onstage as they performed the song, “Ocean Size.” The year was 1991 and this fistfight on the opening night of the first-ever Lollapalooza threatened to derail the tour that changed rock music and concert culture forever.
Drama was a constant in Jane’s Addiction. Lollapalooza was supposed to be the band’s farewell tour — why let a fight ruin the party? — so the tour went on and Jane’s played their then-final show a few months later.
************************************************************************************************************
More than 30 years past the peak of Jane’s Addiction fame, Perry Farrell threw a punch at Dave Navarro onstage as they performed their song, “Ocean Size.” The year was 2024 and this errant punch derailed a tour meant to rehabilitate the band’s legacy.
The next day, Perry Farrell’s wife posted a defense of Perry on Instagram citing the childhood trauma of Perry’s mother’s suicide and how he’d had been pushed to his emotional limit and couldn’t hear himself because the band was playing too loud. This justified Perry, who had forgotten lyrics and missed cues and appeared visibly inebriated multiple times on this tour, throwing The Punch.
************************************************************************************************************
You know that trope of musicians telling a journalist how, as children, they heard Black Sabbath or Led Zeppelin for the first time and felt as if they’d heard biblical thunder?
Well, I hated Jane’s Addiction the first time I heard them.
My dad got me their record, Nothing’s Shocking, right as I veered towards classic rock elitism. I was a 9-year-old brat who thought an album cover depicting naked Siamese twins with their heads on fire was… gay. My dad played Nothing’s Shocking for a week straight in the car, but one day it clicked, and I heard biblical thunder.
The music of Jane’s Addiction flowed through my neural pathways as naturally as blood through a vein. It was through Jane’s that I discovered Lollapalooza and the 90s legends who played those tours; it was through Jane’s that I found bands who opened for them like Smashing Pumpkins, Primus, or the Pixies; and it was through Jane’s that I became competent on guitar, bass, and drums.
Jane’s Addiction’s music was defined by the contradictions of the band members’ disparate tastes.
Dave Navarro’s guitar playing was effortless and he was equally capable of speed metal pyrotechnics as he was crafting soundscapes that recalled The Cure.
Eric Avery counted Joy Division, Flipper, and the Velvet Underground as his musical heroes, and his basslines lulled me into physical trances.
Stephen Perkins was a metalhead and Deadhead whose drumming was both hyper and precise. Perkins’ drum fills burst in between beats, radiating joy.
Perry Farrell listened to a lot of dub music during early Jane’s — fittingly, his vocals were drenched in echo that he tweaked on stage, warping its speed, intensity, and duration. This effect sounded to me, like a man singing from the inside of a hurricane and manipulating its gusts.
The four bandmates even looked as different as they sounded:
Jane’s caught the attention of major labels in the late 80s in a Los Angeles DIY scene of their making that was the antithesis of the Sunset Strip and the hair metal bands that played it. Guns N’ Roses and their ilk came out of pay-to-play venues on the Strip like Whiskey-a-go-go and The Troubador while Jane’s threw parties and shows in hotel ballrooms and warehouses, replete with experimental film screenings and motorcycle shows. The Sunset Strip was home to big hair and big riffs, whereas Jane’s crowd was a mix of goths, metalheads, and punks.
Jane’s was the first “alternative” rock band to break into the mainstream. The mishmash tastes of Perry, Dave, Eric, and Stephen resulted in music that synthesized 80s post-punk, big metal riffs and the dynamism of progressive and classic rock.
A typical Jane’s song would consist of two distinct parts, like say, the propulsive verses of “Ain’t No Right,” and its sweeping chorus, or it would follow a non-linear structure with unpredictable repetitions and brief atmospheric detours. The one constant in Jane’s songs was the bass — almost all of their most memorable songs begin with Eric picking a repetitive and effortlessly hummable melody.
Most of Jane’s Addiction's classic songs were written between 1985-88 and some, including “Mountain Song,” were actually written before Navarro and Perkins joined the band. During the recording of Jane’s 1988 major label debut, Nothing’s Shocking, Farrell unexpectedly demanded 62.5% of the royalties to the band’s songs, leaving just 12.5% each for his bandmates.
Navarro and Avery quit the band on the spot but were convinced to stay by Warner Brothers’ bigwigs, but Perry got his 62.5%. Dave Navarro was 20 years old and Perry Farrell was 28 when this rift occurred. When the band broke up for good in 1991, Navarro was barely 24.
As Jane’s worked on its second major label album, Ritual de lo Habitual, tensions ran so high that each member recorded their parts separately. “Been Caught Stealing,” one of the band’s biggest hits, had never been played live and was hashed out in the studio.
The one song that wasn’t subject to self-segregation was the band’s magnum opus, “Three Days.” On the day that Warner Brothers’ executives visited the studio, Perry, Dave, Eric, and Stephen got in a room and recorded the song in one take. Dave Navarro’s two solos in “Three Days” were improvised. The first of those solos is a GOAT contender but Navarro claims to remember only 10 minutes of the Ritual recording sessions due to heroin use.
By the time the band finished Ritual, they knew they wanted to break up, but first, they had to tour their new record. From 1990-91, Jane’s lived on the road, touring the US and Europe before returning stateside to inaugurate Perry Farrell’s brainchild, Lollalaplooza, which was marketed as the band’s farewell tour.
By 1990, the members of Jane’s rarely interacted with each other on stage and a typical show looked something like this:
Eric, shirtless and wearing shorts, prowled the left side of the stage, avoiding any interaction with Perry, stomping with each beat.
A skinny Dave Navarro, who sported shoulder-length dreadlocks, a clean shave, and black sunglasses, would prance and pound his guitar with his fist. Sometimes, he’d spin 360 degrees mid-solo.
Stephen Perkins was visible because his Sideshow Bob curls bounced from behind a drum kit with nearly a dozen cymbals, two drummers’ worth of toms, a timpani, and a collection of hand drums.
Perry was, well... Perry, leaning on his mic stand as he sang into the crowd, howling like a banshee, and testing audiences with abrasive banter. Here’s a representative example, courtesy of a 1991 SPIN magazine article detailing a Jane’s show in Amsterdam:
Perry is wrapped in a wind-breaker, his head shaved to black stubble, the spare antithesis to his now-famous persona as an electric bondage-gear dread queen.
[...]
Perry finally doffs his windbreaker after the last strains of "Ain't No Right" to stand in grand understatement, like a gangster in an athletic T-shirt, baggy trousers, and suspenders.
[...]
"I am a Jew by birth!" Perry shouts. It's true; for all of 16 years he lived another life with his family in Flushing, Queens, as Perry Bernstein. His pop ran a jewelry store on 47th Street in Manhattan.
"Thanks for hiding my ancestors during the war!" he continues. The band members are looking away, used to this kind of outburst. The Dutch audience is still waiting for a reason to either hiss or cheer. "No, really, if it weren't for you people, I wouldn't be here right now. The folks back home asked me to say thanks."
Silence. "Hey, this is not a Nazi look. This is how we looked in the concentration camps." Utter silence. "That's a joke! My name's Perry and I'm into satanism and sports. That's another joke—I don't like sports! I guess you don't understand my sense of humor."
A typical Jane’s show from this tumultuous 1990-91 stretch is harder, faster, and more dramatic than anything they committed to record. Here are some favorites of mine from that era:
Pay attention in this performance of “Trip Away,” to the downshift into the watery arpeggios of the bridge, the huge drum fills that mark the end of the bridge, and the frantic guitar solo that follows it.
“Up the Beach,” the canonical opener to a Jane’s show, is the perfect intro song.
There is no video for this song, but you’ll feel the band kick into another gear around the 3:48 mark when the second half of “Three Days” begins. Dave’s solos teeter chaotically in this version of “Three Days.” That’s a good thing. Later-day Navarro became a composed and predictable player, but 24-year-old Dave played in a manic and unpredictable manner that mirrored his fragile well-being.
This video of “Then She Did” is as high quality of any Jane’s show from this era. This song, which is about the suicide of Perry’s mother, features some of his best lyrics.
I’ve linked to this show’s final song, “Ocean Size,” because it shows a crowd that is fully in the palm of a band at the absolute peak of their powers. If you have the time to watch it in its entirety, this full show distills the raw power and force that only Jane’s could summon.
*************************************************************************************************************
In 1997, Jane’s Addiction reunited with Flea on bass. During that tour, Dave Navarro’s replased on heroin and Perry Farrell met the woman who is now his wife. Perry’s non-Jane’s creative output since 1997 has been embarrassing at worst and forgetful at best. With each passing year, Perry’s lyrics and stage banter have gotten more inane and his attempts at defying Father Time have led to Kimberly Gilfoyle-esque surgical operations.
Outside of the 2000s and 2010s Jane’s reunions without Eric Avery, Perry’s musical projects centered his wife on stage as a dancer or singer. Most of those projects barely got off of the ground. I caught a Perry solo show in 2007 where he ditched most of the new material he’d written with the band that he fired mid-tour, Satellite Party, in favor of songs by Jane’s and his (excellent) mid-90s band, Porno for Pyros. The Farrell’s most recent music can be found on YouTube and has barely over a thousand views.
Later iterations of Jane’s recorded two albums without Eric Avery. In the 2010-2019 tours without Eric, the band mostly shelved the songs written without him.
This is to say, Jane’s has been playing the same songs for 30+ years with almost 0 notable music written after 1988. The final song that Jane’s Addiction 1.0 recorded was a cover of The Grateful Dead’s “Ripple,” which sounds like early Animal Collective.
Jane’s Addiction’s first reunion with Eric Avery from 2008-10 ended because of animosity between Avery and Perry Farrell. Avery explained in a post-mortem interview that Farrell was surrounded by sycophants, that he wouldn’t rehearse with the band but also demanded they not work on new music without him, and that he really wanted his wife dancing on stage during Jane’s shows. I’ve wondered if Perry’s paranoia about the band writing is a projection of guilt over blindsiding his bandmates over royalties and publishing rights all those years ago.
*************************************************************************************************************
In a podcast episode discussing the end of Jane’s Addiction, the band’s guitar and bass tech revealed that Perry actually quit the band on the first night of this recent 2024 tour, but was talked off the ledge by management.
Hours before the tour’s show, Perry went into the desert and filmed risque footage of his wife and other dancers cavorting about, presented it to the band as his desired visual backdrop for the tour, and when his bandmates said no, he quit (previously, the band had vetoed Farrell’s request that his wife dance onstage on this tour). Farrell and his wife then threw a tantrum in front of Live Nation representatives with his wife yelling that Jane’s Addiction “was not a democracy.”
A few nights before The Punch, Perry played a disastrous show in New York City where he forgot how to sing “Jane Says.” The rest of the band apparently anticipated a rough show when they saw Perry visibly fucked up earlier that day.
Perry Farrell is 65 years old.
In March of this year, I saw him Perry with his other band, Porno for Pyros, and thought to myself that he moved, talked, and had the memory of a man in his late 70s and not his 60s. Perry sang quite well that night, but his behavior was Biden-esque.
*************************************************************************************************************
Eric Avery has long been the guardian of the band’s integrity, perhaps to a self-righteous extent (in a recent article he penned for SPIN, he said that Jane’s operated at 30% in his absence). Eric refused to participate in previous reunions when he believed they would not honor or further the band’s legacy, so a Jane’s reunion in 2022 with Eric and without Dave Navarro was a shock.
Dave had played every Jane’s show since 1986, so it was unfathomable that they’d play with a replacement guitar player. But for two tours, first with Queens of the Stone Age’s Troy Van Leeuwen, and then, with former Red Hot Chili Peppers guitar player, Josh Klinghoffer, the shows were excellent and the vibes were good. I considered this a testament to Eric’s integrity and, briefly, the growth of Perry Farrell.
Perry Farrell was changed by the death of his (and Eric and Dave’s) close friend, Taylor Hawkins. Perry hinted to journalists this was a come-to-Jesus moment and for a moment, that spurred his desire to shelve old grievances and end his career The Right Way.
*************************************************************************************************************
Dave Navarro was a C-list celebrity for most of the 2000s and 2010s. First, he starred in a reality TV show about his wedding to Carmen Electra. Then he hosted a reality show where INXS looked for a new singer, followed by a stint as the host of Ink Master, which immortalized this moment:
For much of the last 15 years, Navarro was prone to phoning it on stage with Jane’s. Dave was most happy playing in a newly-formed band with Taylor Hawkins but when Hawkins died, Navarro didn’t touch the guitar for over a year. During that mourning period, Navarro contracted long COVID, which was the nominal reason for him sitting out two tours.
Navarro’s recovery helped him realize he’d spent the last chunk of his life focused on the wrong things. In a podcast with Consequence of Sound, he lamented prioritizing TV fame and on-stage gimmicks — like, say, dancers suspended from hooks — over writing music.
Before this recent tour, Navarro told reporters that he had to learn to love the guitar again. When Jane’s toured without him, Navarro got married, taught himself Steely Dan songs, studied the amp and gear choices of Eddie Van Halen, and became hungry for the stage again.
*************************************************************************************************************
At a non-Eric Jane’s show in 2013, I realized how bored Dave Navarro was only after I watched him spot a woman in the crowd and bring her side-stage so he could peacock. For the next 30 minutes, Dave turned it on. The band rose up to meet his libidic energy and ripped through their classic songs with a level of passion that was nowhere to be found before Dave spotted the babe. The whole thing was as impressive as it was gross.
At the Jane’s show I caught this August, Dave’s face was painted with black and white makeup in the shape of a mask. Dave looked small and he kept his shirt on — he was no longer the caricature of an aging rock god. With Eric Avery prowling stage left again, Dave seemed content to support rather than peacock and he played as if every note was a matter of life or death.
*************************************************************************************************************
The lasting image most people will have of Jane’s Addiction and Dave Navarro and Eric Avery and Stephen Perkins and Perry Farrell is The Punch. This is what Perry Farrell has earned, but it is not what his former bandmates deserve.
Post-Jane’s, each member has made compelling, and occasionally, excellent music. I’ve linked below to some of my favorite works from the extended Jane’s Addiction universe that does not include Perry Farrell.
After the first breakup of Jane’s, Dave Navarro and Eric Avery recorded a 15-song album under the name Deconstruction. It’s possible this Avery-fronted band could have had commercial success, but their label declined to promote the record when they realized the Eric didn’t want to tour, and Navarro joined the Chili Peppers shortly after. “LA Song” is a three-part song that was the band’s only single. The first section is all sunshine and acoustic guitars over an electronic drum beat, the middle section features tasteful Navarro riffs, and the song’s final movement sounds like the soundtrack to a movie’s credits.
Dave Navarro’s guitar playing in this Deconstruction record is the most adventurous of his career and his work in “Dirge” is phenomenal. Dave is restrained and precise in the verses, but his guitar groans out sour chords in the chorus. The guitar solo in this song’s outro has an ugliness not often associated with Navarro’s smooth playing.
After a shotgun wedding and speedy, ugly divorce in 1995, Dave Navarro fell into a deep depression. Navarro recorded a five-song EP, Rhimorse, to cope. Navarro initially planned on distributing copies of the EP at LA record stores before getting cold feet. Given the depressive, angry, and borderline suicidal themes of the EP, I get this decision. “Sunny Day,” demonstrates a Navarro few are familiar with and sounds to me, like a proto-Elliot Smith song. Navarro’s lyrics are dark enough to induce skin-crawling discomfort, but his acoustic playing is so restrained and his chord choices so unexpected that I go back to this song often for inspiration.
Mike Watt’s first solo record, Ball-Hog or Tugboat?, featured a guest list that marked a who’s who of 80s punk and 90s alt-rock legends. Stephen Perkins’ contributions to this song, which features Flea on the bass, encapsulate the joy in his drumming.
Mike Watt and Stephen Perkins worked together again on the second album Perry Farrell side project, Porno For Pyros (a band I adore but won’t get into today). This relationship led to the creation of the band, Banyan, which included legendary guitar player, Nels Cline. The first Banyan record reminds me of a demented take on some of the jazzier Beastie Boys’ instrumental songs.
In his post-Jane’s career, Eric Avery turned down opportunities to play with Tool, Smashing Pumpkins, and Nine Inch Nails. Eric eventually settled into a comfy gun-for-hire role with Shirley Manson’s Garbage, which overshadowed the music he made after Jane’s. The most interesting of these projects was his band, Polar Bear. Avery was fascinated by samples and built songs that blended these electronic elements with his singular bass playing. The bassline in “Water” lurches and loops against an electronic drum sample until the song explodes into a massive breakdown.
The solo album Dave Navarro released in 2001, Trust No One, was a well-earned commercial and critical disappointment. Songs that he demo’d for a record titled, Rainbows and Unicorns, were re-worked and stripped of all risk on Trust No One. This Rainbows and Unicorns version of “Everything” veers towards nu-metal, but his bursts of modulated guitar are tasteful, and the song’s wah-drenched choruses rock.
*************************************************************************************************************
Prior to The Punch, Jane’s debuted two new songs, the first written with Eric since 1990. These songs weren’t great, but they were instantly familiar. Each band member has made interesting music on their own, but these new Jane’s songs confirmed that Perry, Eric, Dave, and Stephen were still the best versions of themselves in Jane’s Addiction.
I was moved by Perry, Eric, Dave, and Stephen embracing the contradictions that made Jane’s, but it seems that Eric Avery’s lyrics in the Deconstruction song, “Single,” will define Jane’s Addiction for eternity: “It’s a shame when the parts fit, but the machine won’t work.”