And Jon if you're overweight, I want to know where... I mean seriously.
Jon Bon Jovi admits he has seen better days. But after a quarter century of nonstop hits, tours and large-haired sexiness, what do you do for an encore? We catch up with the 48-year-old rock god in Brazil and find he may be dreaming of a political career
Polly Vernon
The Observer, Sunday 31 October 2010
Jon Bon Jovi in Sao Paulo, Brazil. Photograph: Suki Dhanda for the Observer
Jon Bon Jovi – long-serving rock god, philanthropist, ageing yet viable pin-up – has truly stupendous teeth. They are white and they are straight and there are lots and lots and lots of them. They are semi-threatening when bared, but blindingly, staggeringly glamorous otherwise. They work brilliantly onstage. Jon Bon Jovi deploys them (quite knowingly, I am sure) to amazing effect. He'll unleash them on you with no warning; smiling suddenly and broadly (maybe with irony, maybe flirtatiously, maybe just because he's tickled by something), and you'll find yourself mesmerised by the beauty of the man's gnashers. He's got superstar teeth, no question.
This is lucky, because from where I'm standing, the rest of him looks a bit like a crumpled middle-aged man in a lumberjack shirt.
I meet him in the conference room of an expensive chain hotel located in the midst of São Paulo's endless urban sprawl. It's early October, the night before Bon Jovi – the band Jon named, fronts and owns in any meaningful sense – will perform a sell-out stadium gig for 60,000 Brazilian fans. I have been ushered into the long, anonymous, overly air-conditioned room, past swathes of security guards dressed in seven shades of stern; it's all quite portentous. I'd expected to be confronted by oodles of barely suppressed tension and leather-clad, pouty-mouthed, large-haired sexiness; the visual shorthand of rock gods in general, and Jon Bon Jovi in particular. But once inside, I can see nothing but a nondescript man in a chair. It's not until the nondescript man in the chair tells the stern security guards that they should leave ("I'll be more comfortable without you. Go!"), turns around and unleashes the full power of his teeth upon me that I recognise him as Jon Bon Jovi at all.
Bon Jovi are two weeks into the South American leg of a lengthy world tour. The Circle tour (named after the band's 2009 album) began in May of last year and has rolled on ever since, through North America and into Europe (incorporating a sell-out 12 nights in June 2010 at the O2 Arena in London), back to North America again before this South American section (the band's first visit in 15 years). It's scheduled to carry on long into next year, via Japan and Australia and back to North America with a few more dates in Europe, possibly.
So Jon is ragged with travelling. He's only just flown into São Paulo; he doesn't make much sense for the first few minutes of our interview. His sentences start and trail off into nonsense, and he blames this on me. Is he enjoying the South American gigs, I ask (I'm not that bothered, honestly; I'm just making polite conversation in the name of easing us both into the bigger questions); and he rambles on a bit, catches himself not making sense, tells me (impatiently) that he's: "Trying to answer me in a way that [I'll] understand…", has another bash, loses his track again, and suggests that I'm just: "Not going to appreciate what [he's] saying!"
Then he stops short, meets my eyes, flashes the teeth.
"But no, no! Let's start over! I don't want to do it like this! Go back to the start, go back to where you say: How are you doing? And I'll say: I'm tired! That's what I'll say."
Jon Bon Jovi has been a rock god for more than half his life. He was born John Francis Bongiovi in1962 in Perth Amboy, New Jersey; his father was a Marine turned hairdresser, his mother a Marine turned florist. His childhood was all very blue-collar and secure, and Bongiovi grew up safe in the conviction that he would inevitably be a rock god.
You never thought it wouldn't happen to you?
"Never for a minute did I doubt that it wasn't going to."
Why were you so sure?
"Naiveté [he pronounces it the French way] of youth."
As a teenager he sang and played in local bands and revelled in his physical proximity to Bruce Springsteen and singer-songwriter Southside Johnny. "These guys who were 25 minutes away and doing it, literally doing it. You know, they were sitting literally on that stupid-ass boardwalk in Ashbridge Park. There wasn't a day gone by that you didn't stumble into one of them. There was 10 Asbury Dukes [Southside Johnny's band] and seven E Street guys [Springsteen's band]; there was only three bars to go to. Chances are, one of those 17 guys is going to be in the same bar you're in."
When he was 21 he formed Bon Jovi with guitarist Richie Sambora, keyboard player David Bryan and drummer Tico Torres; in 1986, their third album, Slippery When Wet, featuring career-defining single "Livin' on a Prayer", turned Jon Bon Jovi into a superstar.
In the intervening 24 years, the group has never faltered, never split up; never stopped writing, recording or touring.
They've released 11 studio albums together, albums which have sold somewhere in the region of 120m copies worldwide. Bon Jovi have performed more than 2,700 concerts in 50-something countries for the delectation of some 35 million fans; it was the number-one best-selling touring act of 2008. At this point in time, only U2 and the Rolling Stones are capable of outselling Bon Jovi on tour.
Jon Bon Jovi is giving this interview in the interest of promoting a forthcoming Greatest Hits album, the second the band have produced in their lifetime.
Why now for a Greatest Hits, I ask. Is it a creative pause, an opportunity for reflection, a celebration of the past 25 years?
"A commitment," he says dryly. "Nothing more than a commitment."
Two and a half years ago he cut a deal with Lucian Grainge, the CEO of Universal, his record company. Grainge allowed him to go and make a somewhat self-indulgent country album in Nashville. "I rang him and said: 'I want to do this.' There was silence on the phone, and then: 'I guess at this point you can do whatever you please, but… would you do me a favour when you lose all my money and give me a Greatest Hits?' I said: 'You got it – that's a deal.'"
The country album, 2007's Lost Highway, ended up selling more than either Bon Jovi or Grainge had anticipated; but still, Bon Jovi had agreed to the Greatest Hits album, and so it'll be out tomorrow, at which point it will undoubtedly sell and sell and sell.
You have an endless capacity for commercial success, I say.
He pauses; he's not sure whether or not I intend the comment as a dig. Bon Jovi have come to define a certain kind of rock: soft and girlish and people-pleasing; lacking in rawness, edge, credibility. Critics don't like them, on principle.
"Weeeeeell… If that's how you see it. Thanks…" he says eventually.
It's not just how I see it – there are numbers to back it up.
"There are numbers. Big numbers. But you know what the big numbers are, actually? They are the sum of a lot of little numbers. And the truth is, this is our first tour of South America in 15 years, and we didn't come for 15 years because the records didn't do as well here as they did in America. It's not that we have this planetary appeal, that when every record comes out, you are that big, everywhere. Europe turns its back on you for certain records and then embraces others, as does America."
Is commercial success important to you?
"No. But it allows you to continue to do it. And it also becomes a platform for so many other things that have become a part of my life. I don't know that I would have had the same entrée to presidential politics had I not been as successful in my day job."
Was I surprised to learn that Jon Bon Jovi is a political activist? Kind of. Deep-held political conviction and unapologetic party bias do seem to contrast with his inoffensive, edge-free variant of rock.
But he is deeply politicised, a card-carrying Democrat. In 2004 he toured extensively on behalf of John Kerry, performing duets with Richie Sambora at rallies. In 2009 he campaigned hard on behalf of Obama; he held a fundraiser for the then-presidential candidate at his own home. After Obama was elected, Jon Bon Jovi performed live at his inauguration ceremony.
He says his politicisation began in his teens.
"You were born in the Kennedy era and you came of age and Uncle Ronnie's telling us that everything was going to be OK, because Gorbachev tore down those walls! It was a romantic time, politically."
You believed in it?
"I believed in the 1980s, sure!"
But what about Uncle Ronnie, Ronald Reagan?
"I voted for him! 1980. First time I could vote."
You voted for Reagan?
"Sure! I was 18, and how could you not be impressed?"
But you're a raging Democrat!
"Staunch. It was a… realisation. It happened shortly thereafter. I woke up. I got educated. Got out of school, started to see the world, started looking at things a little differently. And with time… and experience, comes…" he falters "…more experience. Ha! I almost dared to say 'wisdom', but…"
You don't think you're wise?
"Oh. I don't know about that."
Now, as a consequence of the work he has done on the US president's behalf, he is said to be friends with the Obamas.
"Friends with…? No. I don't want to say I'm friends with 'em. That's too strong a word. I have met a lot of them."
Hillary Clinton?
"Bill! Al! Obama! Got emails from the White House today!"
Saying what?
"Saying I'm being vetted for a committee position by the White House."
Bon Jovi denies, repeatedly, that he has any political ambition. He's said in the past that he wouldn't want political office, because sooner or later you have to give the private jet and the apartment back; if you're a rock star, you're allowed to keep them. Now he says: "It's a thankless job! It's a really shitty job! And I tip my hat to the pure conviction of the people who do it. Some of them do have such purity of conviction."
But you seem to have purity of conviction, I say. You believe in the Democratic party. You believe in social justice. Four years ago you launched the Jon Bon Jovi Soul Foundation, a non-profit organisation dedicated to tackling poverty in the US, and you have spent significant time making sure it ticked over ever since.
"You do!" he says. "You do have purity of conviction. Because you see what an unjust world we're living in…"
Do you feel obliged to do good work, as a rich and privileged man?
"I don't know if I'm fully committed to that," he says (how versed he is in the semantics of politics!). "But I think that when you come to terms with who you are, regardless of your economic status, taking the time to help others in whatever way moves you can really be fulfilling for the soul."
Are you constantly looking for ways to fulfil your soul?
"Not necessarily. I think I'm doing a pretty good job of it."
Jon Bon Jovi would make a natural politician – not least because he is a very bossy man. He is certainly the boss of Bon Jovi. His bandmates describe him in those terms in the course of interviews for the 2009 film When We Were Beautiful, a documentary that follows Bon Jovi as they toured Lost Highway. Jon Bon Jovi described himself as the "CEO of this major corporation".
You make it happen, don't you, I say. You make the phone calls and compile the set lists and break the balls.
"Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Oh yeah!"
Does it grate on you that the others – Richie, David, Tico – are less involved, less responsible, more passive? According to several sequences in When We Were Beautiful, they spend significant time lounging on yachts and rolling round golf courses while you graft. Isn't that annoying?
"No. And you know why? There's a number of reasons why. When you look up at the marquee: whose name is on it? And I was willing to accept that reward, with that payment. I was that kid with the report card that said: 'Doesn't play well with others…'" He laughs. "I couldn't be in a situation where someone else was controlling my destiny. I'm probably not really a candidate to be in the army. Or working at the factory. Or… I have to sink or swim on my own merits."
Are you a control freak?
"I love Team! I'm a big proponent of Team! And I share the wealth and all the accolades. But…"
You have to be team leader?
"Yeah."
I wonder if he's team leader of his domestic situation, too. Jon Bon Jovi has been married to his wife Dorothea since 1989; they met while they were still at school. They live in Manhattan with their four children: Stephanie Rose, 17, Jesse James, 15, Jacob, eight, and Romeo, six. Jon Bon Jovi wears silver dog-taggish pendants inscribed with their names on a chain around his neck.
So is he the boss at home?
"I am wise enough to realise that women are much smarter than any man, and that women control the world."
You really believe that?
"I know that."
Are you a feminist?
"Yeah! Yeah! And… this idea that the pay scale is unequal is beyond my comprehension. Every man knows… and if he doesn't say it, he's a liar… that they get their wisdom from their mother, their wife and their daughters."
He's made oblique references to marital meanderings in the past. He has said: "I've not been a saint. I have had my lapses." Now, when I ask him what sort of a husband he is, he says: "One that runs away a lot more often than not. Ha ha! Not the perfect one! Trust me! Not on any level!"
We talk on. Bon Jovi are slated to fly to London and perform their new single "What Do You Got", a lament to the conflict between celebrity and personal intimacy, live on The X Factor on the night this article is published. Jon and I discuss the phenomenon of that kind of talent show, the pressure it places on the contestants ("It's a lot to ask of those kids"), the fact that Jon thinks he wouldn't have stood a chance competing in such a process ("I would have failed it miserably! Sure! So would [Bob] Dylan!") and his friendship with Simon Cowell ("I enjoy Simon. I enjoy him immensely"). We talk about fame, about the pitfalls of celebrity. He tells me he was always careful to avoid: "Getting sucked into that LA scene, the Hollywood scene, from supermodel to actress to get my photograph taken. It was a shallow pool to swim in. I am not a fame junkie – I have never been a fame junkie."
And we talk about ageing. Jon Bon Jovi is 48 years old. As a young man, he was absurdly good looking. How aware was he of that then?
"In as much as you guys would say I was cute. Uh huh."
You still are cute, I say – and I mean it. As crumpled as Jon Bon Jovi looked when I first met him, through the course of our interview he has woken up and sort of re-engaged with his own face. He still has significant cheekbones, handsome features, those teeth…
He giggles.
"Well. I think your eyesight's going."
Did you enjoy being a pin-up in your youth?
"Now I can say: 'Thank you – that's a wonderful compliment.' At 26, 27, I was pissed off about it. Because I thought: Goddammit! I'm working so hard! I'm trying so hard! I'm trying to do what I want to do, while I'm trying to please you!"
And all we could talk about was how handsome you were?
"Right."
Are you a vain man?
"I'm vain inasmuch as I think I'm terribly out of shape right now. If you want to be perfectly honest, I'm 10lb overweight and I'm drinking too much and I'm bored to tears."
You look OK, I say again.
"You're very kind. OK. I'm not the fat Elvis. At 48, I look OK. But you know… I'm coming to real good terms with getting older."
What are the advantages of age?
"You become that thing that you looked at your parents and the older people in your life, and said: 'No! I don't want to live to be that old! I don't want to!' But it's actually… much better than dying. And there are too many people that are my age, that are dying. God, I didn't want to be that! That would be awful! You can see why people get fat, grow old, give up! Because every day is: get up, do the same mundane shit. When you don't know anything more, and you don't see anything more, and you're not willing to open up your eyes and take a step in another direction… that treadmill would make any young man old."
It sounds a bit like he's quoting his own lyrics.
We wrap up with a return to politics.
How does he feel Obama's doing?
"Not great. Not great. I want the guy that made the great speeches! I think he's in there. I want the guy to come out now. I think he's figured his way around the hallways." He giggles. "I think he knows where all the light switches are! And: 'OK! So this is what I came to do.' And just stand up and say: 'Fuck it!'"
Do you think he will?
"I hope he will. I hope he will."
Twenty-four hours later Jon Bon Jovi stands on stage at the Morumbi Stadium in São Paulo and delivers three and a quarter hours of roaring, supremely commercial rock for a crowd of rapturous, teary, official-merchandise-happy Brazilians. All evidence of the crumpled middle-aged man has left him. He looks truly rock god now: all leather and upper-arm definition and bouffant hair; though, of course, it's his teeth that steal the show. They are more compelling even than his rock-star strut (though heaven knows Jon Bon Jovi struts well) or the cheap, vast rhetoric of his lyrics (sample: "With an iron-clad fist, I wake up and French kiss the morning." Can one French kiss with a fist, iron clad or otherwise, I wonder). It's a deft and practised performance, and never mind that the band didn't soundcheck (they don't these days) or that the set list wasn't decided upon until the very last minute (Jon Bon Jovi had asked the Brazilian press for suggestions during the conference held shortly before the opening number was performed). He attempts to finish with "Livin' on a Prayer" as the encore, but the crowd demands more, so he throws in "Bed of Roses" for good measure. He makes great use of strategic pauses, dewy eyed, head-noddy moments in which he surveys the crowd with a sort of entitled awe and exchanges meaningful looks with Sambora, Bryan and Tico.
But, but… I don't really buy it. There is nothing technically wrong with Bon Jovi's show, nothing at all. It doesn't flag, it's utterly slick, no one falters. And I'd forgotten how much I like a lot of these songs. Yet I get a sense that Jon Bon Jovi is dialling this concert in. Going through the motions. He emanated much more conviction, sincerity and engagement when he and I talked politics the evening before; much, much more. I think politics is where Jon Bon Jovi's true passion lies these days. I think he might even be a little wasted on the rock. Furthermore, if it ever came to it, I'm pretty sure I'd vote Jon Bon Jovi.
Bon Jovi's Greatest Hits album is out on Mercury on 1 November, along with the DVD of Bon Jovi's Greatest Hits
