By: Mike Hernandez/Columnist
Dear John,
We, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, have found someone else. We want to try new things and feel that our time and creativity is all but done with you. There were some great times, but this is how it has to be. We will be okay without you
Love,
RHCP
Okay, so this hyperbolic and imagined scenario is not the explanation on how or why singer, song writer and guitarist John Frusciante left the group, but you can hear it ring true in their new studio album “I’m With You.” There is no doubt that Frusciante’s highly publicized departure from the Red Hot Chili Peppers left the band questioning if the rest of the members would continue to take up the “Red Hot” mantel, or if it is time for all to hang up their tubesocks and go on to venture into new musical territory. After the quantity-over-quality album Stadium Arcadium in 2006 and a successful world tour, no one was sure of the destination of the Peppers.
Now, we see the retooled version of the band with their 2011 LP “I’m With You.” The band replaced Frusciante’s virtuoso presence with his understudy/padawan, Josh Klinghoffer. Would the group implement different grooves and sounds to their new lineup, or look for repeated success from their tried and true established genre of funk-rock?
Frusciante’s compositions and song structure are undeniably missed. It is clear that his skills brought a layer of extra emphasis that not only complimented Flea’s bass and Chad Smith’s drums, but it had force and frenetic energy.
The feeling of inspired jam sessions that created this band’s music is depleted here. It can be attributed to a combination of things: Frusciante’s departure, Rick Rubin’s lackadaisical production -which sounds like it was mixed and equalized on an iPod – and that cohesive sound where each player and instrument fed off each other. It is undeniable that it is the Red Hot Chili Peppers you’ll be hearing, but as of late, it has been a hit-or-miss type of affair.
There is a promising beginning with the opening track “Monarchy of Roses.” Cacophonous feedback and guitar tuning initiates the sound of a band shaking off the rest and kicking back into gear. It then pumps with Smith’s kick snare and Anthony Kiedis’s muffled vocals leering in. Soon after, it breaks into a psycho-disco bass line and Kiedis sings “The saviour of your light/The monarchy of roses, the monarchy of roses tonight.”
One aspect that has not gotten lost in RHCP is their penchant for writing catchy melodic choruses. The break is the first glimpse of new guitarist Kliffhonger, who has this swaying reverb solo that really isn’t a solo, as it is completely engulfed by Smith’s rumbling toms and Flea’s deep bass.
That is how the rest of the album follows. It is not Klinghoffer’s fault he doesn’t make himself discernible in this incredibly distinguished group of California kids; he is completely entangled in the mass confusion. Other times, he just lets the bass and drum combo ride out and does not dare interfere. Other than that, he does a serviceable job that’s more textured and complimentary than the former sound of the screechy, colorful rifts we are accustomed to.
Songs like “Factory of Faith” and “Ethiopia” feature a finger-fretting bass groove from Flea that is shamelessly wasted by stale drums and sporadic guitar strokes. Nonetheless, Kiedis goes on with his incessant rambling, only this time it becomes near unbearable and is leaning on the verge of comedic. Kiedis’ lyrics are not always clear but that’s because they aren’t always meant to be. His percussion-like sounds fit specific songs and act like another instrument. On the latter song, “Ethiopia,” he starts verses with this odd “beep-boop” scat that gives the impression he is walking through a trench of hot coal. The ongoing joke is that Will Ferrell is the drummer, since he bears a striking resemblance to Chad Smith, but I am more inclined to think Ferrell has started to write their lyrics as well.
Like the aforementioned “Monarchy of Roses,” this album does have some standout tracks that gives the album some gravitas. “Brendan’s Death Song” is the touching eulogy to long-time friend/photographer of the band, Brendan Mullen, and it is one of the more complete and engaging songs the Chili Peppers have made to date. Kiedis soulfully croons “When you hear this, you know it’s your jam, it’s your goodbye.” When the Peppers are on point and connecting, they have a much more grasping sound as Klinghoffer plays a pacing progression on his acoustic guitar and it all breaks down with Chad Smith’s thunderous drumming and Flea unleashing the same energy on his bass. It is a very cathartic moment on the album that shows the band at the top of their sound technically and emotionally. “Goodbye Hooray” even finds the band in full-on rock territory that is relentless at first and then followed up by chilling breaks after a dizzying bass solo.
Get a moment to breathe, because the reckless abandonment you’ve come to enjoy is charging back. “Did I Let You Know” is so smooth and drenched in tropical vibe that is a welcome departure from the rest of album. Kiedis sings “Did I let you know/Would you like to go/I wanna dance to every day’s occasion” and that feeling resonates throughout the whole song. It’s an especially fun song.
Flea’s trumpet solo is a treat and is an example of the band exploring new territory; it doesn’t feel like they’re trying too hard to create something new — except for the piano-riddled, Coldplay-like track “Police Station,” which goes from solemn to sluggish. “Even You Brutus” sounds like the lovechild between Maroon 5 and 311 at a Sir Psycho carnival. The insipid closer, “Dance Dance Dance,” makes you want to do anything but dance, and that’s a damning dilemma where a groove-fueled band falters in making a gyrating lick.
The Red Hot Chili Peppers’ process of recording music has always been one of organic jam sessions: four performers in a room, circular energy spreading throughout that creates something as exemplary as 1991’s “Blood Sugar Sex Magik” and 1999’s “Californication.” The band is still assimilating to Klinghoffer’s style and that could very well take time, as proven by this album.
How much time do the Chili Peppers have before their funk formula is dried out? The benefit of the doubt must be given to them, as they have recovered so many times and delivered. They have maintained the same level of energy and it’s apparent they won’t stop playing until Flea’s fingers fall off. The few gems on “I’m With You” seem to point that there is still substance left and that perhaps this is just the preliminary work that will soon catapult them into newer heights.
Radiate Reviews is a weekly music review column. Look for it every Wednesday this Fall.