Don't Believe Everything You Read (on Pitchfork)

So I’ve got this friend right. He’s a good friend but he can also be a retard. He thinks that because he did drugs and followed MOE, Phish and Strangefolk around in high school and college, that he somehow he has life-long music aficionado status even though his post-college musical experience has been confined to U2, Coldplay, the guy from Margaritaville (I’m seriously forgetting his name right now) concerts, new Red Hot Chilli Pepper albums, and whatever other crap stock brokers have on their iPods. JIMMY BUFFET. God I hate that fucker.

So when he bought the latest Red Hot Chilli Pepper album it turned me off a little. The reviews I read turned me off a little more. I was expecting more Californication and By The Way. It’s (let’s be serious, they’re basically the same album) fun to listen to but I’d heard it before.

I ended up on a reasonably long car trip with him last weekend. To my surprise, I enjoyed Stadium Arcadium. To be sure, the Chilli Peppers are no longer pushing rap/rock/funk to it’s limits like they did when they were young freewheeling addicts with socks on their wieners and coke in their noses, but they’re not dead yet either. For the first time since Frusciante’s return from the nether-regions of addiction, his guitar playing is prominently featured on this latest effort. The album’s not as easy to listen to as the previous two but it’s not difficult either. This latest (post One Hot Minute) amalgamation has seen the band thrust itself headlong into pop only to retreat back into something that seems to fit better. It’s softer than Blood Sugar Sex Magic but hey, I’m getting older too.