John Frusciante
Niandra LaDes And Usually Just a T Shirt

THE REVIEW

1994 John Frusciante - Niandra LaDes And Usually Just A T Shirt

After the incredible departure in 1992, Frusciante found himself alone, desperate, and enslaved by drugs. The solo work he produced is nothing more than a terrifyingly beautiful fresco of his life during that period. The only rule is: there are no rules. Music remained the only beautiful thing in his life and for this very reason John completely immersed himself in it; the 25 tracks that make up the album are an ongoing anthem to freedom; the guitarist uses the dark colors of death and the bright ones of sex to extract his essence.

Few musicians have gone as far as putting their soul into music. Though born out of pain, “Niandra LaDes” is an unrepeatable work, in which music almost perfectly aligns with the psyche of the performer. The restlessness, the terror of living, and the rage are movingly drawn by the guitar of “As Can Be”, a song without form or defined sense; we hear the soul crying out in suffering. It is a perilous listening, the indecipherable intensity of the out-of-tune singing is difficult to digest, because it is the result of extreme sensations. One gets lost in this song, so distant from standards, from rules, that it may seem too oppressive. Desperate madness takes possession of the music.

The sweet introduction of “My Smile Is a Rifle” should not deceive; we are faced with another mad song, between hysterical chatter and the funeral cadence of the guitar. Disorder reigns supreme in tracks like “Head (Beach Arab),” which is almost annoying, and “Big Takeover,” a raw sick folk, a poisonous concoction of guitars. “Curtains” is a dizzying ballad, “Running Away Into You” is a sweet and obsessive electronic sketch, between echoes and the linear guitar. The teasing guitar and the expressiveness of the singing come together in “Mascara” creating something unique. The melody stretches perfectly over the folk guitar; but John's hysteria transforms this delightful snapshot of happiness into a delirious dialogue in which only the guitar dictates moods and rhythms. Extraordinary, especially in the finale that flows then into “Been Insane,” resuming the theme of the previous song (one of the many). “Skin Blues” is another dazed intertwining of guitars, an instrument that is the absolute protagonist in this work. “Your Pussy’s Glued To A Building On Fire” is an eccentric track; the robust guitar accompanies a desperate chant. The obscenity of the title hides a great desire for love among the folds of the lyrics, another whispered confession that adds to the other pieces of soul scattered throughout the album. “Blood On My Neck From Success” is particularly oppressive, especially in the sudden screams; “Ten To Butter Blood Voodoo” is sung by two overlapping voices and gives yet another touch of madness. This is where the real songs end and a series of thirteen “Untitled” begins, where alienating electronics mix with folk hypnosis.

“Niandra LaDes” is an album that travels out of time; unruly and fascinating, it is certainly John Frusciante's masterpiece. Probably most people will not find any pleasure in listening to these insane ballads without direction; but by reading between the lines, you may find comfort in hearing the freedom that flies in the air around you.