The Chilis Take Manhattan
The light bulb goes on inside my head every time I see the Red Hot
Chili Peppers live — and it happened again on Tuesday when they
hit the stage at New York’s Madison Square Garden: That rhythm
section has to make an instrumental record. Guitarist John
Frusciante, bassist Flea and drummer Chad Smith opened the night as
a trio, with a funk-metal-fusion show of force that rattled the
Garden rafters like an impossible dream — the military rhythm
precision of the Meters blown up with the desperate energy of
late-Seventies L.A. punk and the screaming rainbow soul of Jimi
Hendrix’s Band of Gypsys.
Then singer Anthony Kiedis leaped into the fray — alternating
between manic hip-hop calisthenics and the crisp, bright vocal
melody of “By the Way” — and I could see why that side-project dub
record won’t happen any time soon. As a threesome, Frusciante, Flea
and Smith are the best arena-worthy backfield in modern rock. But
with Kiedis, the Chili Peppers are a complete treat: technique,
might and cheer, a matured rock band that has found a second wind
as a knockout pop group. Their 1992 breakthrough
BloodSugarSexMagik made alt-rock stars of the Chili
Peppers; it remains the standard by which most rap-metal still
fails miserably.
The Chili Peppers, however, are now much bigger than that, in
quality and hits, because they figured out how to fit Blood
Sugar‘s split personalities — the funk mechanics of “Give It
Away” and the bittersweet appeal of “Breaking the Girl” — into
single multiple-thrill songs like “Around the World” on
Californication, which tonight careened from speedcore
riffing and Flea’s stuttering bass blend of Larry Graham and Dee
Dee Ramone to a sweet bouncy chorus and that endearingly
nonsensical moment when Kiedis just sings a few lines of sheer
“ring-a-ding-ding” because, well, it fits. In comparison, “Breaking
the Girl” sounded like a preliminary sketch for the quantum leap in
classy action to Californication and By the
Way.
One of the no-longer secret weapons in the Chili Peppers’
arsenal is Frusciante’s voice, a high-harmony wonder that frames
Kiedis’ non-rapping tenor with a minimalist Beach Boys flair.
Frusciante got to show off on his own during the show as well:
taking near-falsetto turns through the Chantels’ 1958 hit “Maybe”
(a street-harmony classic that was already twenty-five years old
when most of the fans in this crowd were born) and the vintage
electro-disco of Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love,” with Flea playing
the racing sequencer line live on bass. The Chili Peppers also
played their minor-key, warped-tango treatment of the Ramones’
“Havana Affair” as well as snatches of the Clash’s “London
Calling,” “Ride Into the Sun” by the Velvet Underground and
Funkadelic’s “Cosmic Slop” — evidence of both their covers prowess
and now-encyclopedic range as a pop band.
Another thing that occurred to me, during the closing blaze of
“Californication”: Today, a band like the Chili Peppers, whose
first two major-label albums were unfocused and sorely
under-produced, would not get a chance to make a third. It took a
decade for the Chili Peppers to get to BloodSugarSex
Magik, and another one to get through personnel and rehab
dramas to become the killer pop band they are now. The Chili
Peppers had the time, facilities and opportunities — maybe more
than their share — to reach fulfillment, and they didn’t waste
it.
Which proves that the only thing wrong with the music business
is the business.