INTRODUCTION
BY PHIL GRIFFIN
Lost Highway tour, Richie Sambora’s guitar rack, 2008.
Phil Griffin
It’s cold in Minnesota. It’s February 2007, a drafty hotel room, a tour-weary rock star and a somewhat juvenile British photographer. The guy behind the lens just wants to take a portrait. As with all life studies, you hope to capture the truth of the man. It’s different if the subject happens to have endured a million clicks and flashes over twenty-five years at the top of his game. I can’t help thinking it’s the last thing Jon Bon Jovi wants to do right now.
But ever the professional, Jon endured. Looking back to where this all began, it’s funny how one photograph, a stolen moment really, touched a nerve, inspired faith, and created an understanding between us. With that one image, never planned but always hoped for, Bon Jovi and I began a journey—a journey that has been inspiring, exciting, exhausting, and, at times, frustrating. Lets face it: You don’t simply go on the road with one of the biggest bands in the world and expect to be given free rein. Or do you?
The joke out on the tour was always that whenever I had my camera in my hand, I somehow slipped into an invisible cloak—like some lens-toting Frodo Baggins with his magic ring. For whatever reason, Jon just didn’t see me, Richie simply smiled, Tico winked, and Dave snarled his best keyboard king snarl.
It is the willingness of Jon, Richie, Tico, and Dave to let me in, let me be there, and let me take these pictures that has created the new material for this book. It is exciting for me to see the new and old share these pages. I hope it offers both a new perspective and a proud record of the past. It is, of course, both an honor and a responsibility, and I am doubly grateful that my pictures sit alongside the iconic images by Olaf Heine, Cynthia Levine, Mark Weiss, and all of the contributors to this anthology.
After our long trek on the Bon Jovi trail, making this book has taught me why this band is what it is. Why they have endured, why they are loved. It’s simple, really; they are a family.
Jon is a complicated fellow. Watching him as I have had to do has felt a little bit like spying on your brother. Not always comfortable, but a guilty pleasure nonetheless. It is Jon’s tireless drive and complexity that create such a perfect foil for Richie’s infectious enthusiasm. To my mind, this is what makes these guys such great partners. I am proud to have been let into just a small part of that very private brotherhood.
Watching this band thru a lens has been a great way of focusing on where their trust in each other was born. To me it comes from the avenues and alleyways of Jersey, in the bars and clubs of the neighborhoods of their youth. It’s in the fabric of the walls in Jon’s studio on the banks of the Navesink River. It’s in the strings of Richie’s guitars and in the backbone of Tico’s godfather-like presence at the back of the stage. These guys, much misunderstood but always steadfast in their identity, knew what their bottom line was—trust each other, tight-fist the world, and no one can break the circle.
I hope these pictures throw a light onto that truth. Each one has been chosen with care and pride. That’s what these guys do to you: They make you care, make you want just a little bit of that brotherhood, a small slice of the family pie that is the Bon Jovi way.
Talking of bottom lines, for me a truly great picture is indeed a stolen moment, a piece of a soul that once taken can never be given back. I am proud that Jon and his band have trusted me enough to let me steal pieces of their hearts to share with you.
—Phil Griffin, 2009
Lost Highway tour set lists, denoting which guitars Richie needs for which show, 2008.
Phil Griffin
JON
“Whole Lot of Leavin’” portrait session, Minneapolis, MN, March 17, 2008.
Phil Griffin
A s far as I’m concerned, the world began
BY PHIL GRIFFIN
Lost Highway tour, Richie Sambora’s guitar rack, 2008.
Phil Griffin
It’s cold in Minnesota. It’s February 2007, a drafty hotel room, a tour-weary rock star and a somewhat juvenile British photographer. The guy behind the lens just wants to take a portrait. As with all life studies, you hope to capture the truth of the man. It’s different if the subject happens to have endured a million clicks and flashes over twenty-five years at the top of his game. I can’t help thinking it’s the last thing Jon Bon Jovi wants to do right now.
But ever the professional, Jon endured. Looking back to where this all began, it’s funny how one photograph, a stolen moment really, touched a nerve, inspired faith, and created an understanding between us. With that one image, never planned but always hoped for, Bon Jovi and I began a journey—a journey that has been inspiring, exciting, exhausting, and, at times, frustrating. Lets face it: You don’t simply go on the road with one of the biggest bands in the world and expect to be given free rein. Or do you?
The joke out on the tour was always that whenever I had my camera in my hand, I somehow slipped into an invisible cloak—like some lens-toting Frodo Baggins with his magic ring. For whatever reason, Jon just didn’t see me, Richie simply smiled, Tico winked, and Dave snarled his best keyboard king snarl.
It is the willingness of Jon, Richie, Tico, and Dave to let me in, let me be there, and let me take these pictures that has created the new material for this book. It is exciting for me to see the new and old share these pages. I hope it offers both a new perspective and a proud record of the past. It is, of course, both an honor and a responsibility, and I am doubly grateful that my pictures sit alongside the iconic images by Olaf Heine, Cynthia Levine, Mark Weiss, and all of the contributors to this anthology.
After our long trek on the Bon Jovi trail, making this book has taught me why this band is what it is. Why they have endured, why they are loved. It’s simple, really; they are a family.
Jon is a complicated fellow. Watching him as I have had to do has felt a little bit like spying on your brother. Not always comfortable, but a guilty pleasure nonetheless. It is Jon’s tireless drive and complexity that create such a perfect foil for Richie’s infectious enthusiasm. To my mind, this is what makes these guys such great partners. I am proud to have been let into just a small part of that very private brotherhood.
Watching this band thru a lens has been a great way of focusing on where their trust in each other was born. To me it comes from the avenues and alleyways of Jersey, in the bars and clubs of the neighborhoods of their youth. It’s in the fabric of the walls in Jon’s studio on the banks of the Navesink River. It’s in the strings of Richie’s guitars and in the backbone of Tico’s godfather-like presence at the back of the stage. These guys, much misunderstood but always steadfast in their identity, knew what their bottom line was—trust each other, tight-fist the world, and no one can break the circle.
I hope these pictures throw a light onto that truth. Each one has been chosen with care and pride. That’s what these guys do to you: They make you care, make you want just a little bit of that brotherhood, a small slice of the family pie that is the Bon Jovi way.
Talking of bottom lines, for me a truly great picture is indeed a stolen moment, a piece of a soul that once taken can never be given back. I am proud that Jon and his band have trusted me enough to let me steal pieces of their hearts to share with you.
—Phil Griffin, 2009
Lost Highway tour set lists, denoting which guitars Richie needs for which show, 2008.
Phil Griffin
JON
“Whole Lot of Leavin’” portrait session, Minneapolis, MN, March 17, 2008.
Phil Griffin
A s far as I’m concerned, the world began
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