John Frusciante
The Empyrean

Before listening to this record, one must ask: which John will it be in "The Empyrean"?

The 6 albums in 6 months project, now four years old, introduced us to a versatile musician, comfortable with bittersweet melodies and psychedelic suites, pure rock pieces, and peculiar electronic experiments. Sure, some limitations have also emerged: not all the albums released can be considered good. There have been moments of obscurity, but what emerges from the latest works is certainly a remarkable ability to vary musical themes. That is why, when faced with "The Empyrean," one does not know what to expect.

It is certainly the furthest album from "Curtains," his last solo work, that could be made.

If the 2005 work was minimal, intimate, bare in production and instrumentation, this one is super produced, full of sounds, very thought out. While before John had relied almost solely on the emotional potential of his songs, providing them with minimal arrangements, here he maximizes the production, creating a sound mix that is less direct but of great quality, suggestive and engaging. It can be said that it's a band playing under Frusciante's name, considering the numerous guests.

What is missing is the centrality of the guitar. Until now, for better or worse, all his works were based on melodic lines dictated by the instrument. Now it's different; the songs are not focused on a single element but aim for the cohesion of multiple voices; they are a dense web of sounds.

On one hand, you lose immediacy; on the other, you gain in the richness of musical textures, never so embroidered and refined.

This does not mean it is a baroque and redundant album: when necessary, John knows how to silence the instruments in excess and recreate the intimacy of Curtains. The cover "Song To The Siren" is a magnificent example of this. It seems supported by the soul's sighs. Sounds appear here and there, gentle, but the true protagonist is the voice, splendid when it launches into cathartic vocalizations, but even more splendid when it whispers sweet words of love. John has a hard time with Tim Buckley, but surely his performance does not look bad compared to the original. Quite the opposite.

Before this gem is "Before The Beginning," a monolithic instrumental intro. Here the guitar reigns supreme, with its long Gilmour-like notes. It's a seductive tangle of echoes, spacey sounds, and a melody as delicate as it is pleasing. It's no coincidence that I mentioned the Floyd's guitarist; it is, in fact, a psychedelic piece, with a rarefied and desert-like psychedelia, but not arid. Solitary but not desolate. It seems like a cry in the night. The title is also significant as it refers to a Platonic conception of life. In short, the concept starts to make itself present right away.

The minutes (nine of them!) pass slowly and prepare us in the best way for the enveloping atmospheres of the record. It is necessary to abandon oneself to John's notes to fully enjoy the almost religious solemnity of this work.

After the instrumental and the cover, a key track of the record arrives. "Unreachable" starts a bit quietly with a languid melody, but soon changes its face, enriching both the melody, well-calibrated and effective, and the musical mix, full of disorienting effects, seductive interludes, and rarefied spaces. A complex piece, showcasing deep refinement work and remarkable maturity in conception.

"God" continues the "divine" concept with a less cryptic approach. The text is clear. Musically we are closer to the pop rock of "The Will To Death"; a very pleasant and direct melody, inserted in a musical scenography of great depth. The percussion is highlighted, with warm arpeggios, rough sounds, and a synth layer that strengthens the sound. The track's pace is lively, with calm moments and adrenaline bursts.

The tendency towards complexity becomes fully evident in "Dark / Light"; a suite in two parts. The first, Dark, moves obviously in darkness, with few piano notes and echo chasing each other. The second, Light, explodes in a kaleidoscope of colors, which then gives way to an instrumental tail perhaps a bit long but emotionally gripping.

In "Heaven," Flea's bass stands out. The colors are soft, delicate. It is a tiptoe piece. It is also the simplest on the record. However, there is no lack of interesting embroidery. Almost a heavenly lullaby, as the title suggests. Very pleasant, even if somewhat transitional. It's the classic pause that allows us to catch our breath after the overflowing richness of the first five tracks.

"Enough Of Me" meanders a bit. The tone is less mystical, the sounds more relaxed. The second part of the song is dominated by a crooked guitar solo, supported by an exotic background of maracas.

The great focal point of the record is "Central." It starts with a very fluid melody, supported by sugary piano notes, which explodes powerfully in the chorus. But the grandeur of the piece gradually emerges. After the initial verses, we are faced with a long climax, the true core of the song. Only a structure like this could create that tension, that sense of vital joy, of love for life that the song manages to suggest. It's a frantic, irrational escape, but in reality, it has no true reason to be. It represents our lives, constantly chasing something, but the true reason to live is the chase, not the destination.

Beyond these personal interpretations, we are faced with a milestone for John. The track is of extreme completeness; it knows how to engage, fascinates right away, is rich in different musical elements, and is appreciated for its melodic immediacy.

The following "One More Of Me" shows an unprecedented Frusciante, dealing with a cavernous vocal timbre. The melody is one of the best, further enriched by strings that in the finale provide great emotions. The farewell is entrusted to the mystical haze of "After The Ending." Another clear religious-philosophical message.

"The Empyrean" is a work of strong conceptual depth, as well as musical. The religious theme certainly has its roots in John's traumatic experiences and projects itself towards a positive conception of life. The Platonic component emerges right from the start and is reconfirmed in phrases like "Everything is eternal" and "What is has always been and will always be."

A work that shows a new complexity, also resulting from the numerous collaborators. From his friend Flea to his trusty Klinghoffer, from Johnny Marr to the Sonus Quartet.

Frusciante has improved in various aspects. First of all, continuity; it's hard to find a weak track on this album. The long period of conception and production has borne fruit.

The ability to synthesize is also improved; five years ago, eighteen tracks (Shadows Collide With People) were needed to express all the potentials. Now ten are enough, and the result is not at all inferior. John has learned not to be dispersive. This record is a concentrate of all his influences and does not appear fragmented. On the contrary, it is one of his most uniform and consistent works.

Of course, it lacks the crazy genius of "Fiandra LaDes," the almost heartbreaking emotionality of "To Record Only Water for Ten Days," but this "The Empyrean" is a work of excellent craftsmanship, replacing the erratic and genius-like inspiration of the past with a rare ability to mediate content and rework forms.

There isn't a song that makes us widen our eyes or wrinkle our nose, no, but every track can reveal itself as a treasure chest of secrets. It is up to the listener to have the sensitivity and patience to understand it.