Telegraph
from Telegraph magazine (?)
“It never ceases to amaze me that the Red Hot Chili Peppers have ended up as mega-selling elder statesmen of alternative rock- first, because I used to think their music was too cool ever to become really popular; second, because I was sure drugs would get them first. No way, though, would they have got anywhere near so big without John Frusciante, an obsessive muso who, when not playing guitar, sits at home all day listening to records. He features on all the Chili’s best albums. On this, hid fourth, solo album, you can hear exactely which bits he contribuates: the slightly off-kilter melodies, the pensive acoustic parts, the general aura of yearning wistfulness. If what you don’t like about the Chilis is their bombast and slap-bass funkiness, then this may be your solution. There are also some very good and exceedingly un-American, Boards of Canada-style ambient tracks, which manke it even more highly recommended still”
—James Delingpole
Telegraph.co.uk
January 2005, telegraph.co.uk
The final instalment in the Red Hot Chili Peppers guitarist’s remarkable flurry of activity – it’s his sixth release in almost as many months – is a warm and fuzzy collection of 11 lo-fi songs recorded on an antediluvian tape recorder with a little help from his friends on drums and upright bass and guitar.
The mood is mellow, a bit sad, but he’s clearly come a long way since the days when he allegedly took heroin until his teeth fell out. Some of the songs, such as the opening track, The Past Recedes, sound as if they could easily have been “worked up” into fully-fledged RHCP tunes; others are little more than doodles. It’s sweet, personal and intimate, and Frusciante’s guitar playing is, as always, melodic, clear and unostentatious.
It’s not the most compelling album ever made, but where it does strike home is in helping fans of the Chili Peppers to unpick just what Frusciante has contributed to the group’s extraordinary success in the past few years. Bassist Flea and drummer Chad Smith do the funk thing; singer Anthony Kiedis is manic, epic, mad; and Frusciante would appear to be the illuminator, the bringer of serene beauty and harmony.
David Cheal
