REVIEW: Red Hot Chili Peppers, Californication (Warner Bros.)
- Matthew Carlin
Like it or not, Blood Sugar Sex Magic will go down in rock and roll history as one of the most important albums of the '90s. Between Rick Rubin's stripped down production, Flea's mind-blowing yet tasteful bass playing and Anthony Kiedis's raw tales of drug addiction and sexual bacchanalia, the Red Hot Chili Peppers' 1991 opus really helped shape the musical landscape for the rest of the decade. No less vital to the formula was John Frusciante, a brilliant, eccentric guitar-playing musician. His departure from the band and subsequent break-down was the stuff VH1 "Behind the Music" shows are made of, and the seemingly-jinxed band's subsequent album, One Hot Minute, suffered accordingly.
Now, as the end of the decade rapidly approaches, Frusciante has rejoined his once-funky brothers -- a truly joyous event after years of frustration for fans, band members and record company executives. Which is what makes Californication all the more disappointing. While the new album starts off promising, after three or four tunes the band's formula becomes all too clear. Basically, the Chili Peppers 1999 have three gears: all-out rock bombast a la most of the songs from One Hot Minute; mid-tempo, syncopated funk fakery; and tuneful pop gems that sound like a cross between previous hits "Under the Bridge" and "Soul to Squeeze."
The real shame of Californication is that the gems really are gems. The catchy first single, "Scar Tissue," is simply a great radio song. Along with the tuneful chorus from "Around the World," the slow, sad, tenderness of "Porcelain," and the inventive, shifting groove of "Emit Remmus," the Chili Peppers still have some creative juices left when it comes to more melodic, emotional tunes. But testosterone-soaked rackets like the athletic sixteenth-note work-out "Parallel Universe" and the mung-headed "Get On Top" ("Get on Top! Get on Top!/Hit me come get me I bite but she bit me.") are just a waste of everybody's time.
Although the Red Hot Chili Peppers will never recapture the funky brilliance of Blood Sugar Sex Magic, they still could put out a solid album. "Scar Tissue" may sound a bit too much like the aforementioned "Soul to Squeeze," but this is what the Chili Peppers are good at now. The facts remain: Frusciante is a fantastically natural, musical player; Flea can lay back and groove nicely with drummer Chad Smith; Anthony Kiedis sings better with every album. Even insipid lyrics like "Road trippin' with my two favorite allies/ Fully loaded we got snacks and supplies / It's time to leave this town/ It's time to steal away" can't ruin the string-laden beauty of album closer "Road Tripping." Yet some misguided force -- perhaps it's Rick Rubin's past with Slayer or the band member's lingering desire to live out their Iggy Pop fantasies -- compels the Chili Peppers to soil their lovely pop album with frat-boy rock garbage they tried to shed years ago.
