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Spin Magazine Interview It's 10 A.M. in New York City. A bleary-eyed Jon Bon Jovi opens the door, shakes my hand, and thankfully accepts the bucket-sized cup of Starbucks that the Mercury Records publicist has brought for him. He pulls a hand through his famous head of hair (I know better than to ask him about his new coif), and fires up the first of many Marlboro Lights. Pictures of his wife and children clutter the shelves.
The occasion is Jon's second solo record, Destination Anywhere. Bon Jovi may not be a critic's darling, but he has probably sold more records than everyone else in this issue put together. So there.
SPIN: Who gave you that piece of art hanging on the wall?
Jon Bon Jovi: Elton gave me that.
Is he a close friend?
Yeah. He's the sweetest, most generous man on earth.
Did you hear the story about the Concorde flight he was on that lost an engine? Pete Townshend was also aboard, and everybody was looking at these two rock stars and thinking, We can't die with these guys on the plane.
Here's another one. I heard that Sly Stallone was on his way to Cannes and the windshield on his private plane popped out. So they had to fly across the ocean like that. [Laughs] And Sly said, "I always wanted to cross the Atlantic in a convertible."
Speaking of Sly, tell me about your own acting career. Did you have any formal training?
Oh yeah, I studied for six years. Moonlight and Valentino [his first film] was only two-and-a-half years ago. I'd written the music for the film Young Guns 2, and it turned out to be a surprising success. I won a Golden Globe and was nominated for an Academy Award. And I wanted to do it again. That was going to be my outlet. So I was getting scripts with the idea that I would be writing the songs. But eventually the scripts stopped coming, and I thought that if I took acting lessons, maybe I'd meet more movie people. So I took some lessons, and then a couple of years into that, I went on an audition. And eventually I got a role. My first day on the set was the first time I ever acted with a group of people. I had spent two years like this, with a guy in a room. So it was like being thrown right into the fire, but it was cool.
How does it compare to music? Is it a similar buzz?
My greatest creative pleasure is still writing a song, because I created it. Being on a set and making a film is like jamming with a band; it's a collaboration. It's more like being a rhythm guitar player. You just show up, play your part, and walk away.
Does your rock-star status create any special problems on the set? Beefed-up security and the like?
No. I mean, today I'll go to the set [of the upcoming Ed Burns movie Long Time, Nothing New]. Everyone in town knows I'm there. I've been there for two months. There'll be, maybe, a hundred fans out there. They'll stop and take a picture or something. They're not Lee Harvey Oswald; nobody wants to shoot me. They just want to say hi, and that's that.
What was your childhood like?
It was a very good, middle-class, New Jersey upbringing. I was blessed growing up. My parents worked six days a week so we could make it. They taught me and my brother that hard work could get us what we want.
You still believe that?
Yeah. I've always believed that nothing was going to be handed to me, but that if I went out and hustled, I could have it. On Christmas morning when I was 13, I wanted this electric guitar so bad, and my folks hid it under the couch, they wanted to see if I'd act pissy. But I didn't. I just said, "Oh well, I didn't get it." And then they pulled it out.
Do you still have that guitar?
No, I wish I did. I sold it
Before you got famous?
Yeah.
I bet the guy who bought it made a mint.
I heard he did, actually.
Speaking of which, whatever happened to that guy who won your house on MTV?
He sold it two months later. After he posed for all the pictures for MTV. He made himself $100,000. [Laughs]
Who were your heroes growing up?
Southside Johnny. Bruce [Springsteen] and Steven Van Zandt, of course. They made the impossible possible because they were 20 miles from your house and they were writing songs about the streets that ran through your neighborhood. The Who and Led Zeppelin and all those groups were just too unobtainable for a kid from Jersey. Too big.
When did you know you were going to be a big rock star?
You don't ever know. When you play a bar you think that's big. Then you get your first bus, and you think that's big. When [1986's 12-million-selling] Slippery When Wet hit, though, that was the big time.
Was it too big?
When Slippery came out, we were thrust into it so fast that when I now look back on it, those aren't fond memories at all. I was burned out beyond belief. I was getting shots of steroids in order to sing every night. My eyes were sunken, I weighed about 102 pounds. It was too much to enjoy, it was too fast.
Can you look back on it objectively now?
Yeah. I know now that if I'd taken one wrong turn 15 years ago, I could have been the one rolling the room service tray into the room instead of the one receiving it. And I don't take any of that for granted. Ever. But when Slippery hit, we were wealthy, and we did all the goofy things. We felt that the way you showed your love for your family was to buy them a house, or a Ferrari, or Cartier. But I've had success now for ten, 11 years, so I've gotten past that. What's important now is when [guitarist] Richie [Sambora] calls me and says, "How ya doing?" I get much more out of that.
When did you, Richie, and the band decide to take a break from Bon Jovi?
When it started to feel like an oldies act. I knew when to put in "You Give Love A Bad Name," I knew when to pull out the big stadium trick, when the fireworks should go off. I thought, I'm not going to get caught in that. I'm going to walk away from this. Like the words to "Every Word Was a Piece of My Heart" [from his new solo album, Destination Anywhere]: "It was all I had to give you / And I gave it to you / And now I'm walking away."
How do you feel about the music press?
Well, they're obviously not big fans. We're not the critics' darling, we never were. We were always the people's band. The harsh reality is that we've sold 70-odd-million albums, and I'm not on the cover of SPIN this month. I'm an article inside it. And whoever is on the cover this month or next month, I'm sure we've sold more records than they have.
Does that frustrate you?
[Shrugs] You can't demand respect. You just have to stay around long enough. SPIN once asked me if Bon Jovi released our late-'80s records in such quick succession because I was afraid it was all a fluke, that it would soon be over. I didn't realize it then, but the answer was yes. But now we know that we could walk away and we'd all be fine. Now we know that the band is going to make it into the '90s, that there's going to be a next record. It's no longer a question of whether or not we're going to make it into the millennium. We're going to.
Do you consider yourself an optimist?
Sure. I have nothing to be pessimistic about. My life is blessed, I know that. I'm grateful for it every day. And it bothers me to see kids of this era saying, "We don't have a future, we don't have a job." I was born during the Kennedy era, when we still believed. My parents believed that they could own a house and a car. And when I was old enough to vote, and Ronald Reagan was telling us that everything's going to be okay, the bad guys are still in Russia and we're the good guys and all that nonsense, and you're 18 and impressionable, and you're watching the debates between him and Jimmy Carter and he whoops Carter's ass on TV, you think, Yeah, I could vote for that guy. Up to that point, people still believed they could achieve things. I did. I took the longest of shots and said, "I'm going to be a rock star."
JBJ Talking About Acting JBJ. (interview with singer Jon Bon Jovi)(Interview)
Author/s: Ingrid Sischy
Issue: Feb, 1998
He's a real-life Rocky, the one who stands in the shadow of more obvious champs but ends up showing everyone or two. . . .
Previously, his boxing ring has been the world of rock 'n' roll and his victory has been millions of fans. But for a while now, he's been putting in long, hard days as he enters a new arena movies . . . without a trace of entitlement.
All this and much, much more, including movie-screen chemistry and actor authenticity, point to the news that everyday Jon Bon Jovi is becoming more and more of a contender in a game that only a short while ago wouldn't give him the time of day.
INGRID SISCHY: Jon, every time I've spoken to you during the past year and a half, you were either going into or coming out of working on a movie. Have you always worked your butt off like this?
JON BON JOVI; Yes. My real friends and my family know that if I'm not working I'm miserable. It's not for monetary reasons. I already have fame and fortune. Now I want to find the greatness in things - which is why I was attracted to the arts in the first place. Slowly, I have fallen in love with acting. And all the struggle here - the acting lessons, the indie movies - has taught me so much.
IS: At what moment did you say to yourself, "I want to make it as an actor?"
JBJ: People had come to me over the years, saying, "Why don't you get into movies?" But the truth is, I had too much respect for acting and actors to think that just because I was a singer in a rock band I could do this. Initially, it was only because I wrote the soundtrack to Young Guns II [1990] that I was introduced to acting. When I first went to the set, I realized how shallow I had become, because the only thing I knew how to do was write a record and tour. One of the great silly regrets I have is never having worked on the boardwalk for a summer and blown a summer spinning the wheel. I would have loved to have had that freedom and fun as a kid, but I always had a band, and I was always rehearsing and playing a block dance or something, because I wanted to play music so much.
IS: I'm going to want to talk about the music, but for now keep telling me how the acting thing developed.
JBJ: After that experience with Young Guns, which was frustrating from the music side, I decided to study acting, or at least find out about screenwriters and playwrights. Initially, it was to get my hands on great movie material to write songs for. People told me about this New York acting teacher, Harold Guskin. He wanted me to audition, to see if I was serious. I went to him with my legs crossed. arms folded. I had no way to emote whatsoever. Basically, I paid Harold Guskin $150 an hour to tell me, "OK, you suck." I stayed with the lessons for two years. I started to read these classic plays and get ideas, and I also began writing songs for what became Keep the Faith [1992].
IS: When was this?
JBJ: Around 1990, after Slippery When Wet [1986] and New Jersey [1988].
IS: They were monster-big albums.
JBL: Yeah, they sold in the eight digits. I was burnt out, physically and mentally. I was disillusioned. I got rid of the managers, agents, lawyers, almost everything. Eventually, I came out of my shell, started writing material again, and the band came back together and we progressed.
IS: When I met you, I was surprised, given your level of success, that you had both modesty and a sense of self-perspective. You had become this giant thing, but you weren't busy making sure everyone knew it.
JBJ: Hey, I know I've sold more than seventy-five million albums, and that's a lot of fucking records. I've outsold my peers. But I don't feel the need to puff my chest out.
IS: Why not?
JBJ: I'm older. I'm humbled.
IS: Were you ever full of yourself?
JBJ: Sure, during Slippery and New Jersey. And a lot of that arrogance, in retrospect, was out of fear of the success not being there forever. People who have to tell you how successful they are aren't really successful. That's something I learned sweeping floors at this recording studio called the Power Station. Mediocre stars were the biggest pricks, and the big stars were the ones who came in and said, "How're those demos going? Keep pushing, you'll get it. It'll happen for you."
IS: Go back even earlier.
JBJ: I went to Sayreville High School, in New Jersey. I was a loner. Both parents worked six days a week. I played in bars starting in the late '70s. It was hard, but it was magic, too, because I was lucky enough to be in Asbury Park when it was in its last stages as a scene. This was after Springsteen, but you still had the feeling that the next big band could come from there. I guess it was a little like that in Seattle a few years ago, or anywhere else where a music scene has happened. In my day, the only way to be successful was to play covers. But I realized in high school that the only way to get out of that scene was to play my own stuff.
IS: And from there, the story is legend. But what's Interesting is how you've prevented yourself from being dehumanized as a legend. You've obviously been committed to keeping the realness factor. Let's be candid: Often, with the music, the critics have been busy with what you're not. For instance, the way they've seen you compared to Springsteen.
JBJ: Second place, sure. I've known the guy since I was sixteen, when I first played with him. We've played in countless bars together. Obviously, I'm always going to be in the guy's shadow, coming from the same place but later. But I don't resent that. I would never have wanted to be a musician had it not been for Bruce and the E Street Band. And Southside Johnny. And Little Steven. Those were my heroes. So yes, I'm in Bruce's shadow. But no, I don't want to be him.
IS: Thinking about this interview and the image I have of you, I kept flashing on Rocky.
JBJ: Yeah. And you know what happened to Rocky: In the second and third movies, when he's on top of the world, he gets his ass whupped and goes back to find out what it was that he loved about boxing in the first place. Even with all the success, I wanted to find out again what I love. And now I'm in a completely different head. Fortunately, unlike Rocky, I didn't lose everything I had.
IS: One of the components in your success, and something I'm sure you've thought about, is the way you look.
JBJ: It's both helped and hindered me. But that's OK. Ten or eleven years ago, when Slippery hit, I was very excited about being on the cover of Roiling Stone. Then their reporter turned up, and all she could talk about was, "You're so cute. And your hair!" I thought to myself: If you want to fuck me, let's just get on with it. I was very angry about all of that. But what could I do? Scar my face? Knock my teeth out? After a while, I learned if they're going to say all I am is a pretty face, then they're not taking the time to look at the facts, which speak for themselves. I'm not just talking about the work facts, but the personal facts, too. How many guys would have left their wives when they found fame and fortune? Why would I get rid of my wife for, you know, Michelle Pfeiffer? It would be a stupid move. How many guys would have left their friends, fired the band? I haven't, because these were people who believed in me seventeen years ago. I wouldn't be able to sleep or go on if I didn't acknowledge them and give back to the people who gave to me. There's a lot of people, executive types, who say to me, "Why go backwards? You're getting all this great acclaim now." I'll tell you why: because none of it is going backwards.
IS: To them maybe a guy who is willing to start from the bottom when he's on the top is a notion they don't know how to deal with. But in fact it's what artists do all the time. So take me back to Jon Bon Jovi spreading his wings as an actor.
JBJ: It was supposed to be with Norman Jewison, who, you know, is gigundo, and he was doing a film called Only You, here in New York. The band was playing in Boston. Jewison was interested in me for a part. So I flew down, and I was sitting in the lobby, and this big actress was there, too. Forty-five minutes of her harping in my ear about dribble. 1 became very crazy. I panicked, and I got up and walked out. It was a year later, and another year of lessons on and off, before I went to audition for a part in Moonlight and Valentino [1995], which I eventually won. It was a slow process. Each step was a baby step.
IS: It was funny with Moonlight and Valentino, because you could almost sense how surprised the reviewers were that they thought you were good. But they had to give that to you. And since then, you've obviously been working your ass off. None of the films has come out yet, but you've been filming back to back, right, and are about to start appearing. How many are there?
JBJ: Five: The Leading Man. Little City. Homegrown. Then there's Eddie Burns's new movie, No Looking Back. And last, Row Your Boat.
IS: None of them is big-budget. Most of them are independent. It could be that not one of them will be a hit, or even seen much.
JBJ: Correct.
IS: In Little City, which is directed by Roberto Benabib and is expected out in late February, what is your role?
JBJ: I play a guy who's a recovering-alcoholic bartender. The movie is very much a Big Chill kind of thing. Nobody's incredibly successful, and we're all looking for life. It's a really nice little movie.
IS: What about doing a big-budget movie?
JBJ: I've read a lot of scripts for Hollywood movies; in fact they wanted me to go out to L.A. for something tomorrow, but I said I couldn't do it. I don't see me on a spaceship saving the world, and that's basically what the story was. It's more important to me to do a script and a character I can learn from.
IS: Now that you've done several movies, I imagine that some of them have been rewarding . . .
JBJ: Yes.
IS: . . . and some have been shitty.
JBJ; Yes.
IS: But something's keeping you acting.
JBJ: Well, on most of the projects I've done there's no budget, so you don't know if anyone's ever going to see the film. People are there because they want to be. No one in these movies is making a million-dollar paycheck. They're labors of love. When you look at Sean Penn - who, to me, is the pinnacle of the actor of my generation - obviously Sean could do movies for money every day of the week. He chooses not to. In the same way, for me to rewrite "You Give Love a Bad Name" just because it was successful would be a cheap shot, and I gotta look in the mirror when I shave in the morning. It's more important to me to try and find the greatness in things.
IS: Give me some lines from one of your songs that express that.
JBJ: OK. They're from "Livin' on a Prayer": "We gotta hold on to what we got / It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not / We got each other and that's a lot / For love, so we'll give it a shot." That's the essence of the song. You know, I became a recording artist when I was twenty, twenty-one. 1 made my first million by the time I was twenty-five. The first hundred million came when I was thirty-five. It means shit to me. What matters is not all the commercial success but the heart that went into that: five kids from Jersey doing what they wanted to do. Same thing with what I'm doing now, in both the music and the movies.
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