Bumbershoot Guide

Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Bumbershoot 2010

Monsters of Alt

TV Pilots vs. Baboon Attacks

Previews of Every Single Thing Happening at the Festival

People's Republic of Komedy vs. People's Republic of China

The Stranger's 2012 Bumbershoot Guide!

The Stranger's 2011 Bumbershoot Guide!

Our Massive 2013 Bumbershoot Guide

Bumbershoot 2009

Gogol Bordello vs. DeVotchka

The Stranger's Bumbershoot Guide

How Does It Feel to Be Back?

Mad Ruins

The Bob Dylan Torture Test

Still a Gigolo!

Touch Me, I'm Sub Pop's Warehouse Manager

The Shins vs. Their Future

Here's What We Think of Every Damn Thing Happening at This Year's Festival

Give It to Me Easy

Rock, Chunk, or Rule

Fergie vs. Jackson Pollock

Bumbershoot 2009

Emerald Shitty

De La Soul for Life

Hari's Big Break

Friday, August 31

I'm More Than Hair

Yes, Aloha!

Let Them Bring You Brown

Countdown to Courtney

Jane's Addiction was entirely responsible for the Nirvana era, which was, in turn, entirely responsible for Seattle. Therefore we, being Seattle, are obviously relieved as all hell to host them as headliners for our annual little "Bumbershoot" thingy this year because without them, we wouldn't even exist. (And THAT'S why they're billed even higher than Skrillex!) Let that sink in for a moment.

The band was born long ago in LA, amid the smacked-out prostitutes and Gregg Araki films of the very late and still far too Reagany '80s. Things were about to get very Bushy. Filled with dark fire, poetry, and unmanageable hair, four suspiciously talented and skinny young musicians who can't really fucking stand each other to this day were brought together by the hand of fate and two dreams: to rise like an unwashed alternarock sex-tsunami and drown a Cosby-sweatered world in their post-metal, sweaty-balled, leather-panted, jaded suburban garage punk howl, and to make at least two album covers with boobies on them. And so they did, and in so doing, captured the nascent zeitgeist of a time that's been called, by the Gynecological Association of America and others, "the '90s"—or at the least they wrestled the zeitgeist to the ground and fluffed its dirty pillows. MTV was a real thing then.

I have no intention of bringing up Kurt Cobain, by the way. We're not talking about Kurt Cobain. I know you're anticipating it. You can just stop it right now.

Dave Navarro is definitely the most famous member of Jane's Addiction, except, of course, Jane, who is not really real. But Perry Farrell is also the most famous member of Jane's Addiction, so I'll just let the three of them duke it out in private. What it's important to understand here is that Dave Navarro is not Tommy Lee (or Criss Angel, believe it or not—or even Cher!), and Perry Farrell is definitely not that guy from Oasis (I think...). There's also an active member of Jane's Addiction named "Chris Chaney" about whom we know nothing.

Dave Navarro has often been described as "a guitarist." But he will definitely be forever most renowned as the hero who slapped the guyliner and manscara out of Robert Smith's big fairy hands and made it totally okay to be all witchy and Nefertiti-like and married to Carmen Electra sometimes for guys who play guitars. Perry Farrell, equally forward-thinking, dared to totally rock a "Burning Man dude who is not at Burning Man just now but probably got back recently and is still a little dizzy" look before Burning Man dudes were even invented. (They're called "Burnies"! I'm cool! I know things!) Mr. Farrell is also the recipient, along with the rest of the band, of the "Godlike Genius Award for Extraordinary Services to Music," which didn't help his great big head one bit, I can tell you. Shoot.

In April of 1989, Jane's Addiction played the Moore Theater right here in Seattle (it was nice then!), and Perry said, "Who's gonna be the first to shoot President Bush? I guess I'll have to do it." In September of 1991, he did a live concert nude. So Perry Farrell is clearly the coolest band member (PERIOD!), and my personal favorite. (Take it outside, boys!)

Eric Avery, Dave Sitek, a guy from Guns N' Roses, Flea, the kitchen sink, Marie Antoinette's drunken poodle's drunkle—everybody's been in Jane's Addiction, off and on, and some still are. Jane's Addiction is as famous for its revolving door as it is for that one song that goes, "Jane says! Jane says!" over and over, and just how the hell was I supposed to know what Jane says anyway? I was listening to Björk all the time.

Jane's Addiction's first album's cover had Siamese booby ladies with fire heads on it. The album itself received wide critical acclaim, except for a devastating two-star review from Da Peace Dogg at Amazon.com, who writes: "I find these tunes kind of dull and screechy, due to Jane's voice." But that dude's a total dick, so whatever.

It must also be noted that Jane's Addiction invented Lilith Fair, several subsequent Woodstock™s, and $7 bottled water by inventing Lollapalooza first. Lollapalooza brought together every whiny, grungy, screamy, alt-rock sex god of the age. It was such a success that Jane's Addiction immediately broke up forever. Then they got back together. Then they broke up again. Then got back together! Like an unkillable thing reanimated again and again by 107.7 The End, Jane's Addiction has died and risen on several notable occasions, which usually coincide with Lollapalooza (which will also never die). Frankly, the entire situation strains credulity.

Jane's Addiction's new album is called The Great Escape Artist, and if you see them play at the Bumbershoots, you're going to have to hear allll about it, because we're crammed right into their big release tour, so blah blah blah. (PLAY "JANE SAYS"! PLAY "JANE SAYS"!)

Courtney Love didn't have fucking anything to do with fucking anything. As usual. recommended