I met Jane the same way you did — through Perry Farrell and Jane’s Addiction. And even if you’re not a JA fan and you have no idea who Perry is, you’ve heard the song…
Jane says
I’m done with Sergio
He treats me like a ragdoll…
Jane Says is the 90s version of Stairway to Heaven. And even if you really can’t remember Jane and her wig and her television set, you know her. It’s likely that you are her. Or were her once.
Jane Bainter is the namesake of Jane’s Addiction, and her story (a piece of it, anyway) inspired the Jane Says megahit. Her photo was used on the art for Jane’s Addictions’ debut album (recorded live). And her silhouette introduced the bands’ Soul Kiss video, proclaiming that she was Jane and she was an addict.
She may have (allegedly) worn a wig, but Jane was no wasteoid party girl. She was a white collar worker from a broken family. Broken, but not broke. Her mom had moved to Spain, and Jane took a top floor bedroom next to Perry, in a house they shared in LA with five other guys. Jane trekked to the office every day in a crisp shirt and heels. Sometimes, Perry would give her a ride. When she came home, she’d shed the button down, step into some fishnets, and score dope. Heroin. The drug of drugs. Stay home, or go to a club.
I imagine her sweating at work under the fluorescent lights, typing away and aching a bit. It starts in the calves, catches the backs of your knees, snakes a steady burn up your thighs. When you have a habit, you can’t go long without a fix. By 5pm, you’re cooked. By 6pm, you’re cooking up (if you’re lucky and it’s not busy). And even when you make good money (as I’m sure Jane was), your bank account can’t withstand the daily forty, sixty, eighty dollar hits. (Don’t ask me how I know.) That’s why Jane pulled her dinner from her pocket. No meat. All H.
When asked if she ever tells people that she’s Jane from JA, Jane replies, “Only if it’s appropriate, which is practically never.” This is a 2003 interview, and Jane has long since sobered up, and maybe even made it to Spain to visit Mom. I want to know if she ever told her mom what was up. Maybe mom would have booked her a flight. Rescued her from Sergio, who was an actual person, but not her boyfriend. Just some dealer.
Many of the song’s lyrics are inspired by actual events. In the late 80s, Jane had the worst habit in the house, and the roomies (other than Perry, according to him, in Whores: An Oral Biography) wanted her out. Apparently, Perry was so charmed by her near daily, desperate pledge to “kick tomorrow” (although I’m sure he found it CUTE ‘n endearing) that he named the band (arguably one of the best band names there is) and wrote lyrics to a (structurally simple) hit song. The rest is history. But what about Jane Bainter?
The 2003 interview finds her unemployed, and selling the last of her autographed album inserts on eBay. She says she doesn’t like to be recognized, and often isn’t (except by some rando SUPER fan who’d know that chin ANYwhere). She wants everyone to know that she was never a prostitute. Or a groupie. In fact, she was eventually tossed out of the house, habit in tow. Never mind the fact that many of these guys went on to acquire their own (very public) habits that, according to Jane, made hers seem like chipping.
Jane never made a penny off her likeness. Or her story. Worse, she talks about being denied entry to shows and snubbed by Perry and toy bride Etty. Don’t they realize that JA owes it’s birthright to Jane? Without Jane’s addiction, there might not have been a JA.
The hope is that when you clean up, things will get better. Or at least you’ll be happier. Only I don’t think Jane sounds happy in 2003. Although, she said she was in love. Not married. Truth? I don’t care if Jane never marries. I imagine her today, in 2018, a successful advertising exec. Or maybe a human rights lawyer. She wears tailored skirts, and dark wine lips. Or maybe she’s just a woman. With her own hair, grey streaked and not hiding it.
I wonder about another woman who’d once been close to Jane. And closer to Perry. Her name is Casey Niccoli, and she may just be the genius behind the Jane’s Addiction we know and love. The one with the beads and flowers and burning twin heads. Far from the slick, overproduced, dull dazzle of later albums like Strays. The classic girl in braids.
Originally printed in a tinyletter
