Jane’s Addiction
Bank of America Pavilion
Boston, MA
August 11

“I try to find some love from up high. There just ain’t enough to go around.” Lead vocalist Perry Farrell’s declaration takes flight and sweeps over the enchanted crowd of devotees, enveloping them in warmth and bidding welcome to the Theatre of the Escapists – a blend of debauchery and rock that only the legendary Jane’s Addiction can produce, and produce proudly. Here comes the empowered roar of Dave Navarro’s guitar, the rumble of Stephen Perkins’ drums, the thump-thump of Chris Chaney’s bass, and, sitting on suspended swings are two gorgeous, bustier-clad women in white, parachute-like skirts (one being Farrell’s wife, Etty Lau) – their presence barely known through the thick fog.

Further adding to the colorful world of Jane’s Addiction is a man dressed as a black crow perched atop a ladder and clawing at an audience that is equal parts confused and stunned. The song is “Underground,” the leadoff track to The Great Escape Artist, the latest record from the Alternative Nation rockers. A single best described as three minutes of hardcore rocking out, it is a fitting opener to a judicious set list consisting of fan favorites and newer material. To the delight of the enthralled audience, Navarro, a heavily tattooed god in this own right, is bare-chested, exhibiting a hard and muscled body while strutting around the stage in leather. He is shredding away on a riff that reminds one of the classic “Mountain Song” – which comes second in the set. There is eroticism in Navarro’s presentation, his impassioned facial expressions serving as evidence of his sensuality and enthusiasm. It is truly admirable to witness him forcing every sound and effect that he possibly can from his beloved instrument.

Standing alongside, with his arms open wide, the eccentric Farrell bellows: “We’re all hustlers. Hustlers. We’ll never give up the underground,” to an enamored crowd balancing on their tiptoes and hanging on his every word. His wide Cheshire cat grin is in full force tonight.

As the beer kept flowing, sweat-drenched, intoxicated concertgoers began shedding their inhibitions, singing, screaming, and swaying their way through each song. Farrell clutched his own wine bottle in hand and gazed out into the crowd as if he were a benevolent king and they, his subjects. The band blazed through such fan favorites as “Just Because,” “Been Caught Stealing” “Ain’t No Right,” “Three Days,” and “Stop!” A newer track, the majestic “Irresistible Force,” is especially worth noting. Dripping with sultriness, Farrell transitioned from a deep speaking voice to a higher register of singing before reaching the point of release: “Ahhhh. The irresistible force met the immovable object. Whoaaa-oh-oh-ooooooh.” Navarro’s big moment arrived mid-tune and he delivered a solo performance that, fittingly, transcended space and time.

I would be remiss if I failed to mention the band’s most accessible hit, the steel-drummed “Jane Says.” As the acoustics were brought out, complete with Navarro’s medieval throne, the Pavilion became an intimate space. What had been and would continue to be a rock show morphed, for several minutes, into a living room concert as Farrell joked with the audience and his compatriots. It was a rare moment, something akin to an episode of Storytellers and serving to showcase the real brilliance behind this band.

Primarily a performance art piece set to the tune of hit after hit, it appears as if the Theatre of the Escapists is, among other things, a realization of Farrell’s fantasies. I am talking, of course, about the women’s reappearance, which found them in S&M gear and negligees, and prancing around as if they were sex slaves sent to do Farrell’s bidding. Projected on screens above were vintage videos depicting bondage rituals, along with graphic clips from the 1988 film Sadobabies: Runaways in San Francisco, which features street children who delight in abusing dolls – each scene presented in slow motion to ensure they were as sinister and unsettling as possible. On the topic of disturbing, one of the three encore songs, “Splash a Little Water On It,” featured a man washing his face before covering himself in white paint (his mouth smeared blood red in a Joker-esque fashion), before plunging what appeared to be knives in his head. The descriptive adjectives “strange,” “kinky,” and “erotic,” do not even begin to cover a spectacle so steeped in art, sexuality, and fantastic LED lighting displays. A pleasure-filled assault of epic proportions is perhaps the only way to describe this immense theatrical experience.