St Petersburg, Fl (August 26th, 2025)
On a humid Florida night that seemed tailor-made for rock and roll, Jerry Cantrell stepped onto the stage at Jannus Live and reminded everyone exactly why he remains one of the most vital forces in modern rock. Best known as the guitarist and co-vocalist for Alice In Chains, Cantrell has built a career that straddles the line between introspective songwriting and gut-level heaviness. Now, as he tours in anticipation of his forthcoming album I Want Blood, Cantrell is showing he’s not only still hungry but also still capable of delivering a live performance that leaves fans exhilarated and exhausted in equal measure.
For just under two hours, Cantrell and his crack band wove together a setlist that managed to honor every era of his career without feeling like a simple exercise in nostalgia. He kicked things off with “Vilified”, the lead track from the yet-to-be-released album. Dark, moody, and heavy, the song was a deliberate choice—one that let the audience know right away that Cantrell wasn’t here to just coast on past glories. The riffs were jagged, the groove sinister, and his vocals carried that familiar mix of grit and vulnerability.
Without missing a beat, the band launched into “Dickeye”, a cut from his 1998 solo record Boggy Depot. Hearing that song live was a reminder of just how strong Cantrell’s non-AIC catalog is, and the crowd responded with cheers that seemed to surprise even the man himself. From there, the first stretch of the show turned into a sampler of his solo ventures: “Afterglow”, “Brighten”, “Held Your Tongue”, “Angel Eyes”, and “Atone” each got their moment. What stood out most during this run was how seamlessly these songs meshed with the Alice In Chains material that would come later. It’s a testament to Cantrell’s songwriting consistency that a track written in the last few years can stand proudly next to something crafted in the depths of the Seattle grunge era.
Of course, the real eruption came when the opening chords of “Them Bones” rang out. Suddenly, the crowd, already engaged, shifted into another gear. Hands went up, and voices joined in a thunderous sing-along. If “Vilified” was the warning shot, “Them Bones” was the full-scale assault. He kept the energy high by following it immediately with “Rain When I Die”, another AIC classic that showcased his ability to blend crushing riffs with an almost spiritual sense of atmosphere.
The middle portion of the set felt like Cantrell at his most comfortable, sliding between tracks like “Cut You In” and “My Song” before circling back to his new material with “I Want Blood”. That title track, with its snarling riff and lyrical bite, seems destined to become a live staple. But it was “Man In The Box” that truly tipped the scales. The moment the first wah-drenched riff hit, the venue turned into one massive choir. It’s a song that has become more than a hit; it’s an anthem that has carried multiple generations through dark times. Watching Cantrell play it, there was a sense of pride, but also a subtle distance, as if he knows the song belongs to the audience as much as to him.
The night pressed on with “Had To Know”, “Would?”, and the haunting “Echoes of Laughter”, before slamming into “It Ain’t Like That”. By this point, the set had built into something larger than just a concert, it felt like a retrospective, a guided tour through the jagged landscapes of Cantrell’s career. Each note carried both weight and history, and the band behind him—tight, professional, and ferocious—ensured that no song felt anything less than monumental.
And then came the closer. When the familiar, slow-burning intro of “Rooster” emerged, the entire crowd seemed to collectively lose its breath. The song has always stood as one of Alice In Chains’ most iconic works, but hearing it in this setting, under the open sky with fans pressed shoulder to shoulder, it became something transcendent. Cantrell’s guitar tone was rich and mournful, his vocals carried that weary ache, and the audience filled in the gaps with a full-throated roar. It was the kind of moment that defines why live music still matters in an age of streaming and digital overload; a communion between artist and fans that can’t be replicated anywhere else.
As the last notes of Rooster rang out, Cantrell lifted his guitar skyward in a gesture of gratitude before walking off into the night. The crowd lingered, buzzing, reluctant to let go of the energy that had just consumed them. This wasn’t just a concert. It was a reminder of why Jerry Cantrell has endured. His songs are heavy, yes, but they’re also human. They hurt, they heal, and when played live, they bring people together in ways that feel almost sacred.
At Jannus Live, Jerry Cantrell didn’t just revisit the past, he proved, definitively, that the future is still his to claim.
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