Mojo

March 2004, Mojo magazine (UK)

Few people come back from the brink of madness and addiction and live to tell about it, but John Frusciante not only survived those ordeals but used the harrowing experience as fodder for his solo albums. Each successive disc has explored and redefined the sad trajectory his life took when he left RHCP in 1992, after having a premonition that he has to either exit the band or perish. In the intervening years, until he rejoined the internationally renowned jock rockers in 1998, Frusciante spent his time in the clutches of a terrible heroin dependency, drawing and painting, but rarely picking up a guitar- recoring a mere 3 songs during his self-imposed lay-off. After coming together for an impromptu jam once Dave Navarro had left the Peppers fold, Frusciante was asked to rejoin in 1998, unleashing all that talent and arcane guitar wizadry to help reinvigorate his former band, who has fallen into a lacklustre rut. The release of 1999’s superior Californication proved once and for all that Frusciante was the linchpin for the bands past successes, 1989’s Mother Milk, and 1991’s BSSM.

But somehow he wasn’t able to translate his talents on his own solo work. Until now. Wither the ponderously titled Shadows collide with people, the RHCP guitarist has finally got his solo efforts In line after 3 obscure and atonal efforts, creating a work of uncommon beauty and toment by redirecting some of that surly textured Chili magic to inflame his own recordings.That’s not to infer that Frusciantes fourth solo album is anything like a RHCP record. Although SCWP is a more cohesive and tuneful affair that anything he’s done before, it doesn’t even begin to wade into the mainstream waters the RHCP swim in. Its heavier and more unruly than anything that band ever attempted, with a sincerity the RHCP could never pull off. Or perhaps would even want to. And just when you that the songs are beginning to make a little too much emotional sense, the former bad boy guitarist turns in Negative 00 Ghost 27, a scratchy and disturbing instrumental suite with the occult, the equally chilling Failiure 33 Object and 23 Go Into The End, a sprawling canvas of uncertainty that makes one wonder whether he has stumbled onto Isaac Newton’s secret code to the mathematical mysteries imbedded in the bible and set it to music. But when he is not throwing out creepy musical integers, Frusciante has fashioned songs with a keen mastery and sly emotional intelligence, with psychically beleaguered ruminations on the loss of love, identity, and personal grace. Though not a true concept album, the poetic grandeur of SCWP provides much grist for the post millennial mill, with its saga of fractious relationships, confessional and cautionary tales. Like on the excruciatingly revelatory Ricky, where Frusciante admts: “I was afraid to be me” and later “ I was a flame in the night/ I heard what I wanted to hear”. And the not so common or garden variety autobiographical soul searching of second walk, which sheds light on his defection and reinstatement in the RHCP with an unflinchingly lament: “Dies so many times and then reappeared/ All death looks like to me is a word that causes fear”

While Frusciante’s well-being may have been questioned, his guitar prowess has never been a cause for concern, his galloping, shambolic riffs- augmented by RHCP compadre Flea’s liquid bass on 2 songs- provide the backbone for his complex aural collages that expose new musical layers with each subsequent listen. At times, he plays like a young James Williamson with Johnny Marr snipping at his heels, with some deft, pristine licks that he seems to have caged from the Steeleye Span songbook sandwiched in for high contrast. But what’s unforeseen is the calibre of the vocals: Frusciante’s alternately gritty and angelic voice rivals such retro-pop crooner as Paul Young or Rick Astley, making one ponder why Anthony Keidis’ haughty sneer is featured on all the Peppers’ records. Maybe this album will tip the balance.

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