The Alternative Number Ones: Porno For Pyros’ “Pets”

In The Alternative Number Ones, I'm reviewing every #1 single in the history of the Billboard Modern Rock Tracks/Alternative Songs, starting with the moment that the chart launched in 1988. This column is a companion piece to The Number Ones, and it's for members only. Thank you to everyone who's helping to keep Stereogum afloat.

Before I get into the meat of this column, we should take a moment to recognize the struggle of anyone who's ever had to spend time with Perry Farrell. I cannot even imagine what that experience would do to you. Farrell's former collaborators often speak of him as a wild-eyed, Dionysiac cult-leader genius. At the same time, every anecdote about the man makes him sound like the most aggravating little dickfuck that you ever met in your entire life. Imagine feeling like this guy had something -- like it was your responsibility to help get that thing out into the world, a vocation that would require you to be around him for any length of time. I couldn't do it. I wouldn't be strong enough.

I tend to think of Perry Farrell the same way that I think of Kanye West. Both of them have made a lot of music that I love, though it's always up for debate whether they're the parties most responsible for that music or whether they were just really canny creator-curators who had a vision of how they wanted to put other people to work. Both of them left huge cultural stamps and helped to define ideas of cool for entire generations. Both of them have been charismatic enough to perform for vast crowds and to have those crowds eating out of their hands. And if I was trapped in an elevator for longer than 10 minutes with either one of them, I might commit seppuku.