![]() ![]() Consider a line like this, which memorializes a show in Chicago in the group’s heyday: “The band was in a great groove, and this hot little club girl, cute as can be, grabbed me, dropped to her knees, yanked off my stretchy fabric pants, and started giving me a blow job.” It is a portrait of an artist as a rich, beautiful dummy, and every single page is perfection. In fact, I think Anthony Kiedis wrote maybe the greatest rockstar memoir ever with Scar Tissue. I haven’t seen them play, I didn’t pay much mind to the talk surrounding the recent 35th anniversary of the album that got me into the band in the first place, and I wasn’t swayed to see them on their upcoming tour, no matter how many special guests they have playing alongside them.Īnd yet, I find myself once again obsessed with the Red Hot Chili Peppers for reasons that have nothing to do with their music. Over the last two decades, I’ve actively listened to zero new Red Hot Chili Peppers songs, though they’ve released four albums over that time period. They were a band I liked in junior high, and all I knew about them up until the Daly prank was that they played nearly every single music festival that would have them. But after 1999’s Californication, I moved pretty far away from the Chili Peppers. ![]()
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