Friday, February 13, 2009

Dream Team-Up, Pt. NIN

Team Name: Jane's Nails
Team Members: the original lineup of Jane's Addiction and Trent Reznor.

OK, this obviously isn't part of the NBA team-up series. But what gives? Two of the 90's greatest "alternative" (nice how that term has aged and how mainstream radio somehow still thinks it applies) bands are getting together. At least in the studio. Could it be T-Rez is producing a bona fide Jane's reunion album (minus the fleas and jagged little pillsters of past attempts)? An indie-fied split EP? A Skinny Puppy tribute album? A terrible cover of some terrible 80s song for the next Transformers movie?

THIS mysterious photograph is some of the evidence.






While we're here, here's an open letter I wrote to one of my former favorite guitarists ever: Dave Navarro, written on the heels of learning that he was dating one of the girls from Rock of Love. It was sad, too much for me to handle. Bear with me. The letter's lengthy, but it comes from the heart.




Dear Dave,
First off, let's just establish that you are a samurai jedi cyborg mutant freak of a guitarist. Always have been. You pick up a guitar. You murder it. Maybe that helps explain your affection for coffins and black nail polish. The playing has evolved and it has always been interesting. Perhaps that's why I've been able to overcome my aversion to douchey nipple piercings and playing without a shirt. And guyliner and feather boas and over-the-top flambuoyance and Louis Vitton guitar straps and hussy girlfriends and Ibanezes and....

Wow. How did we even get this far?

Anyway.

I first heard the debut Jane's Addiction album in Idaho in, I think, '89. I must've listened to Jane Says, Pigs In Zen, I Would For You and your cover of Sympathy for the Devil a thousand times that summer. (Is it true that the audience on that album is pulled from a Los Lobos concert? I could swear I didn't hear a single "¡ANDALE!")


My cousin told me to graduate to Nothing's Shocking; it was better, way better, he said. So, in spite of album art that would make my sweet mother cry, I bought it.


And spent years wearing out the tape. Yeah, tape.

Ritual De Lo Habitual was no different. In fact, I liked it more. Loved it. I read an interview where you talked about your affinity for the textured guitar playing of Robert Smith. And I could hear what you meant as your playing evolved and grew up in songs like Three Days and Then She Did. It's a great, epic, complicated album that has guitar work to be proud of. Thrashing shredded moments and poignant quiet moments. And, of course, a good dose of derangement, neuroses, and guitar heroisms.


Jane's ended. It was inevitable with the success, its trappings, and Perry's general neo-freak insufferability. I just wondered where my favorite guitarist would go. And hoped for somewhere good.


Your first project was challenging, but proof that you weren't just a prettyboy hired hand riding King Perry's coattails. I bought DECONSTRUCTION, pored over it like a fanboy, dissected its neo-prog anti-pop complexities, embraced its artiness, ignored its self-indulgence. I even had TWO favorite songs on that record that I pestered my girlfriend into liking. To this day, I praise that album. And it was light years better than Perry's "pet" project.

Then, you joined up with the Red Hot Chili Peppers, which didn't help the "shirt off" thing at all. At the time, I was a big fan. They hadn't totally succumbed to calculated summer singalongs, flat irons, and utter lameness yet (or I had not yet developed enough taste yet to know. I can't defend it. It was the 90's. I was a fan. Show me YOUR skeletons.). I can't believe I'm saying this, but, hey, I preferred the days of socks, scat singing, and Magic Johnson references. But I digress. This isn't about them. Thank goodness.

Despite what the Chili Peppers may think and what the press said, One Hot Minute is a good album. You pushed them to make their most unique album yet. And one that was, frankly, a bit out of BOTH of your comfort zones.

But that was a short-lived thing too. "Creative differences." You admitted that you've never felt "funky." Loud and clear, buddy. Loud and clear.


All along there was session work- Marilyn Manson, Alanis Morrisette, Michelle Branch, new Guns N Roses (ugh), and more.

And then?

It was ok that you were on an MTV reality show. My cousin and I, watching, talked ourselves into thoughts like, "Well, he IS really funny." and "It probably pisses Perry off. And that's never a bad thing." and "At least it's not Pamela Anderson." And when you decided to actually marry Ms. Sure Bet Electra, I quietly kept my Dennis Rodman/David Hasselhoff jokes to myself.


Then you guys divorced. I wasn't surprised. Who was? Were you? Come on, man. Really?


But I felt bad for you.
Divorce is hell. And it wasn't your first. I can only imagine how tough a public one is, even if you DID bring the public thing onto yourself.

And then?


Then you hosted a reality show to help INXS replace Michael Hutchence.


Go ahead. Read that sentence again. And try to find ONE good thing about it. One. Good. Thing.


And then?

Well, then you hosted another reality show to help Gilby Clarke (as if being in post-Izzy GNR has any cred), Jason "I Deeply Regret Leaving Metallica" Newstead, and Tommy "Hey, I've Also Known Carmen Biblically, and Torah-ly, and Quran-ly" Lee find a singer for their answer to "supergroup" Velvet Revolver.


So suddenly you were known,

not as the bad A guitar killer

who knew when to lose your mind and when to just let the song be the song

who could light a song on fire
who could torch a whole album

and its entire village

and any sister village.


No. You were known as
a reality show host.

Adding, insult to injury, you started a cover band with a bunch of celebrities. And not all A-List, either. It was like Super Diamond with famous people. I'm sure it's fun, a real hoot. But it's below you, man.

CAMP FREDDY? GINA GERSHON? COME ON! I MEAN, WHEN DOES "HOUSE" GET TO DO A LEAD VOCAL?

Yeah, your solo album (bought it) tanked. The Jane's reunion (burned it) didn't quite pan out. And the Panic Channel (passed, sorry) only helped reinforce the truth that- despite his new age L.A. douchiness- there's something about Perry.


But a reality show host and a cover band shredder? Really?


Still, i defend you.

"BUT THE GUY CAN PLAY."


I just want you to know that you still can play. And I wish you would.

But now you've gone and broken the camel's back by dating one of Brett Michaels' "Rock of Love" rejects.


YOU ARE DAVID EFFING NAVARRO! YOU GUYS REDEFINED L.A. ROCK! YOU MORE OR LESS BURIED THOSE HAIRSPRAYING, BUTT ROCKING DINOSAURS! HE SANG A SONG CALLED UNSKINNY BOP! HE GETS HIS EYELINER AT WAL-MART! HIS NAME IS BRETT!!

You should never, ever, ever, never settle for Brett Michaels' sloppy seconds.

Please, I, and the history of rock n roll, beg of you:


Rock
On.

Sincerely,

Spike Woolridge


PS: Parker Fly? WTF?

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