Something wicked this way comes
November 7, 2003 | 12:00am
"Good luck lies in odd numbers"
– William Shakespeare,The Merry Wives of Windsor
Curses and invocations take time to take affect. Ask any witch or browse any copy of the Aradia, and you will know. A minor apparition might take up to five minutes to an hour to manifest, depending on the conjurer or maybe the weather. Major cataclysms take longer — especially when the Great Old Ones are feeling particularly sluggish. Five years, a decade?
For Jane’s Addiction fans it has taken thirteen years.
The most revered of the bands that came out of Los Angeles at the tail of the ’80s – the bunch that laid the groundwork for what MTV labeled as ‘"alternative nation" in the ’90s – Jane’s Addiction as a group didn’t hold together long enough to see it happen, evaporating into the ether amidst discarded heroin needles around the séance table. (It could’ve been a blessing too seeing that their compadres in Fishbone and The Chili Peppers went through their own hells with drugs and insanity during the Grunge and Post-Grunge eras, the former leap-frogging into unfortunate obscurity while the latter becoming respectable as all old junkies become.) Of course, vocalist Perry Farrell was the head ringmaster of the Lollapalooza tour – the decade’s answer to Woodstock – and guitarist Dave Navarro joined The Chili Peppers and made vinyl-leather pants and eyeliner cool again. Both had hit albums and became millionaires but the Jane’s cult kept vigil that the band would reform.
In 1997, there came a portent. After months of speculation, Jane’s Addiction released Kettle Whistle, a collection of live versions and studio outtakes plus two brand new tracks that Farrell, Navarro and drummer Stephen Perkins recorded with Flea in August of that year. (Jane’s bassist Eric Avery opted out.) A subsequent tour followed and the followers came in droves. Any day now, they chanted. Any day now.
Then, nothing…
Four years later, in 2001, both Farrell and Navarro released solo albums. The devoted were understandably crestfallen, unremitting in their desire for the band to reunite. Despite the bold directions that both artists were taking in their respective efforts – Farrell with tribal dance rhythms and Navarro with bleak lyrical and aural territory – the flock chose not to follow. They were not going to be led astray.
Traditionally, it takes thirteen to form a coven, and the number does seem to have peculiar significance in the occult. Perhaps as a knowing nod and offering to Cthulhu himself or just maybe Farrell’s penchant for dramatic mysticism – smoke and mirrors basically – Jane’s Addiction has just released their newest album thirteen years since their last proper studio album, 1990’s Ritual De Lo Habitual.
Entitled Strays, it just about announces its arrival from the opening seconds of the aptly titled first track "True Nature." It starts with a foreboding loop that builds with unsettling menace as if to announce the surfacing of some terrible monster from the depths. Up until Farrell proclaiming "Here we go!" – a ceremonial gesture, of course, given he uttered the same cry at the start of Ritual… curtain-raiser "Stop" – we can only expect the worst, a beast of Lovecraftian proportions. And guess what? It is.
Massive and relentless, the track sets the tone for the whole album. There is no fey posturing here, only hedonistic glee and bacchanalia worthy of the pagan gods. The riffs are piled hard and heavy as Farrell shouts from atop his steeple from way up the highest peaks while the rest of the band provide the thunder and the lightning. It’s both a vertiginous and exhilarating experience as each song is epic in scope without becoming turgid and dragging. The one moment of respite, the twilit-forest melody at the beginning of "Price I Pay," is faded quickly and chopped down by a gargantuan bass-line that signals the return to the great bonfires.
Too much testosterone? Jane’s Addiction was never known to be bone-headed and puerile frat-boys (they left that to The Chili Peppers) nor Van Halen clones (they left that to Motley Crue). Perhaps because both Navarro and Farrell lost their mothers young and in tragic circumstances, the band has paid tribute to women in many songs in the past (and don’t start namedropping Jane Says, you charlatan!). The pristine beauty and delicate majesty of tracks like "Then She Did…" and "Classic Girl" from past albums clearly indicate a sensibility that sympathizes and draws much inspiration from the female gender. It is amusing to note though that the most brazenly "cock-rock" track on Strays "Wrong Girl" is actually an ode to one particularly feisty woman.
Produced by Bob Ezrin (whose past credits include Pink Floyd’s The Wall and Alice Cooper’s School’s Out), Strays is pretty much what you expect from a band still at the height of their powers. And while pundits would crave for the debauched glory and epic madness of "Three Days" or the hip tomfoolery of "Been Caught Stealing," those of the faithful are just glad that these good ol’ devils are back. And it’s heartening to see that, even after all these years, that old black magic lingers on.
BLIND DATES. Feeling lonely like Marius? We suggest you read a good book. Don’t have any? Well, visit Booktopia at Unit 209 Intrepid Plaza, E. Rodriguez Ave., Libis, Quezon City. Their number is 634-6544. Whilst listening to James Dean’s garage band, you can have a date with charming psychopath like Tom Ripley and take a romantic stroll around the surreal locales of Japan where men sprout vegetables from their legs and box men loiter. Murder can’t be far away as you spot the Thin Man round the corner.
Probably taking its cue from classics such as Roman Polanski’s The Fearless Vampire Killers; Or, Pardon Me, But Your Teeth Are in My Neck, this can only be described as a screwball fright-flick with a dash of kung fu in the mix. It will be shown on Nov. 29 at 8:20 a.m.
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