Jane's Addiction vocalist Perry Farrell gives Adam Reader some heartfelt insight into Jane’s Addiction's hard rock manifesto "Mountain Song", which was the second single from their revolutionary album Nothing's Shocking. Mountain song was first recorded in 1986 and appeared on the soundtrack to the film Dudes starring Jon Cryer. The version on Nothing's Shocking was re-recorded in 1988.
"'Mountain Song' was actually about... I hate to say it but... drugs. Climbing this mountain and getting as high as you can, and then coming down that mountain," reveals Farrell. "What it feels to descend from the mountain top... not easy at all. The ascension is tough but exhilarating. Getting down is... it's a real bummer. Drugs is not for everybody obviously. For me, I wanted to experience the heights, and the lows come along with it."
"There's a part - 'Cash in now honey, cash in Miss Smith.' Miss Smith is my Mother; our last name was Smith. Cashing in when she cashed in her life. So... she decided that, to her... at that time, she was desperate. Life wasn't worth it for her, that was her opinion. Some people think, never take your life, and some people find that their life isn't worth living. She was in love with my Dad, and my Dad was not faithful to her, and it broke her heart. She was very desperate and she did something that I know she regrets."
Second Plebeian: Peace! Let us hear what Anthony can say.
Anthony: You gentle Romans-
All: Peace, ho! Let us hear him.
Anthony: I come to praise, not to bury, the shoddy and the rooted -
To lament for the passing of those men, Safari suited,
Who'd flatten you with mindless glee when they got really newted.
Behind the bottleshop you'd see the roughest justice done:
Yeah, it was assault and battery - but with a sense of fun,
And a drink together after, when the ambulance had come.
Who would have thought you'd ever miss the barmaid's brutal snarl
And guys looking at you strange while she says, "What's yours, darl?"
"Wanna go?" is all you recall, before the blow and grand mal.
"You gotta fucking mouth on ya," those moustached yobs would say
Back when being literate was something to hide away
And being mediocre meant you played in the V.F.A.
But now everyone is talking, and it's oh so tres witty:
All those fucking D.J's and their flashy repartee -
It's always breakfast down in Hell, and radio compulsory.
From McGuiness to McGuire to Douglas fucking Aiton
There's a whole new type of person that's takin' over this damn nation:
And I'm not talkin' some racist crap about Asian immigration -
If you're a yobbo now, you're rooted; no one says, "I'll 'ave ya, pal" -
Listen to Adrian Martin, Jon Casimir, et al:
Excellence is demanded, or the critics give you hell.
Everyone's got a fucking voice - there's personae right and left:
They must learn this stuff in school: I mean, what fucking next?
Even the E.G cadets crap on, then move to the London desk.
Who needs another columnist to point out that the thing
'Bout living in the suburbs is that it ain't like Berlin? -
Just in case all of you in Melton were ever wondering.
I tell you what can get fucked, and that's fucking them for starters:
If there's one thing we just don't need, it's another mouthy smartarse
Slagging off the guys who wear footy shorts and zappatas.
You know who we've swapped them for? People who say "rad"
And blokes who go round reading books on being a modern dad -
Why, everything's so cool these days, I can't even understand Telstra ads.
Excellence surrounds us like a fucking voodoo curse:
There's Helen Garner's sister's book; there's all of modern verse;
There's world's best practice, and business men talking terse
On mobile phones on a mobile net that reaches round the earth;
Everything is excellent: nowadays, there's nothing worse
Than saying "I don't give a shit": you'd be in a fucking hearse
Driven by some consultant git who's analyzed your system
And wants to fully integrate you into modern wisdom:
He's gonna take you by the balls and flush you down the cistern.
You know what killed the Anzacs? It weren't the fucking Turks,
It was the Australians coming after them talking up the perks
Of fucking multi-skilling and how the Internet fucking works.
So give me back the good old days, though I know they really stank,
When everyone could seem to tell when you were talking wank,
And we didn't all have to go around pretending to be Yanks.
Give us back those great ideas that made this nation free,
Like the end of season footy trip, and inefficiency,
And if they aren't part of freedom - well, who gives a fuck? Not me.
Why find voice now at this stage, when silence was just fine?
Why learn to talk in coffee shops? It's a fucking wank, for mine.
Coathanger one of these effete guys, next thing you know he's cryin'.
The one thing good 'bout dumbing down is you're not so fucking smart;
I thought Australia was the country that had a silent heart -
It's time we just shutfuckingup. I know what. I'll start.
Anthony: You gentle Romans-
All: Peace, ho! Let us hear him.
Anthony: I come to praise, not to bury, the shoddy and the rooted -
To lament for the passing of those men, Safari suited,
Who'd flatten you with mindless glee when they got really newted.
Behind the bottleshop you'd see the roughest justice done:
Yeah, it was assault and battery - but with a sense of fun,
And a drink together after, when the ambulance had come.
Who would have thought you'd ever miss the barmaid's brutal snarl
And guys looking at you strange while she says, "What's yours, darl?"
"Wanna go?" is all you recall, before the blow and grand mal.
"You gotta fucking mouth on ya," those moustached yobs would say
Back when being literate was something to hide away
And being mediocre meant you played in the V.F.A.
But now everyone is talking, and it's oh so tres witty:
All those fucking D.J's and their flashy repartee -
It's always breakfast down in Hell, and radio compulsory.
From McGuiness to McGuire to Douglas fucking Aiton
There's a whole new type of person that's takin' over this damn nation:
And I'm not talkin' some racist crap about Asian immigration -
If you're a yobbo now, you're rooted; no one says, "I'll 'ave ya, pal" -
Listen to Adrian Martin, Jon Casimir, et al:
Excellence is demanded, or the critics give you hell.
Everyone's got a fucking voice - there's personae right and left:
They must learn this stuff in school: I mean, what fucking next?
Even the E.G cadets crap on, then move to the London desk.
Who needs another columnist to point out that the thing
'Bout living in the suburbs is that it ain't like Berlin? -
Just in case all of you in Melton were ever wondering.
I tell you what can get fucked, and that's fucking them for starters:
If there's one thing we just don't need, it's another mouthy smartarse
Slagging off the guys who wear footy shorts and zappatas.
You know who we've swapped them for? People who say "rad"
And blokes who go round reading books on being a modern dad -
Why, everything's so cool these days, I can't even understand Telstra ads.
Excellence surrounds us like a fucking voodoo curse:
There's Helen Garner's sister's book; there's all of modern verse;
There's world's best practice, and business men talking terse
On mobile phones on a mobile net that reaches round the earth;
Everything is excellent: nowadays, there's nothing worse
Than saying "I don't give a shit": you'd be in a fucking hearse
Driven by some consultant git who's analyzed your system
And wants to fully integrate you into modern wisdom:
He's gonna take you by the balls and flush you down the cistern.
You know what killed the Anzacs? It weren't the fucking Turks,
It was the Australians coming after them talking up the perks
Of fucking multi-skilling and how the Internet fucking works.
So give me back the good old days, though I know they really stank,
When everyone could seem to tell when you were talking wank,
And we didn't all have to go around pretending to be Yanks.
Give us back those great ideas that made this nation free,
Like the end of season footy trip, and inefficiency,
And if they aren't part of freedom - well, who gives a fuck? Not me.
Why find voice now at this stage, when silence was just fine?
Why learn to talk in coffee shops? It's a fucking wank, for mine.
Coathanger one of these effete guys, next thing you know he's cryin'.
The one thing good 'bout dumbing down is you're not so fucking smart;
I thought Australia was the country that had a silent heart -
It's time we just shutfuckingup. I know what. I'll start.
Lyrics submitted by caramelprisoner
Add your thoughts
Log in now to tell us what you think this song means.
Don’t have an account? Create an account with SongMeanings to post comments, submit lyrics, and more. It’s super easy, we promise!
More Featured Meanings
Mountain Song
Jane's Addiction
Jane's Addiction
No Surprises
Radiohead
Radiohead
Same ideas expressed in Fitter, Happier are expressed in this song. We're told to strive for some sort of ideal life, which includes getting a good job, being kind to everyone, finding a partner, getting married, having a couple kids, living in a quiet neighborhood in a nice big house, etc. But in Fitter, Happier the narrator(?) realizes that it's incredibly robotic to live this life. People are being used by those in power "like a pig in a cage on antibiotics"--being pacified with things like new phones and cool gadgets and houses while being sucked dry. On No Surprises, the narrator is realizing how this life is killing him slowly. In the video, his helmet is slowly filling up with water, drowning him. But he's so complacent with it. This is a good summary of the song. This boring, "perfect" life foisted upon us by some higher powers (not spiritual, but political, economic, etc. politicians and businessmen, perhaps) is not the way to live. But there is seemingly no way out but death. He'd rather die peacefully right now than live in this cage. While our lives are often shielded, we're in our own protective bubbles, or protective helmets like the one Thom wears, if we look a little harder we can see all the corruption, lies, manipulation, etc. that is going on in the world, often run by huge yet nearly invisible organizations, corporations, and 'leaders'. It's a very hopeless song because it reflects real life.
Magical
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran
How would you describe the feeling of being in love? For Ed Sheeran, the word is “Magical.” in HIS three-minute album opener, he makes an attempt to capture the beauty and delicacy of true love with words. He describes the magic of it all over a bright Pop song produced by Aaron Dessner.
Punchline
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran sings about missing his former partner and learning important life lessons in the process on “Punchline.” This track tells a story of battling to get rid of emotions for a former lover, whom he now realized might not have loved him the same way. He’s now caught between accepting that fact and learning life lessons from it and going back to beg her for another chance.
American Town
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran shares a short story of reconnecting with an old flame on “American Town.” The track is about a holiday Ed Sheeran spends with his countrywoman who resides in America. The two are back together after a long period apart, and get around to enjoying a bunch of fun activities while rekindling the flames of their romance.
songmeanings.com/