•
Rating: If it were true that you could judge a day by its morning, there wouldn't have been much to expect. Terrible support band. The epitome of boredom, "mortal boredom, beastly boredom" to quote Cccp. The Foals from Oxford are a mix between a poor man's Coldplay and Spin Doctors... simply useless. A brilliantly cliché choice by any promoter. Take a mediocre band that can entertain a bit, but above all won't overshadow the headliners, especially if they are evidently lacking inspiration (for years)... you never know. Based on these premises, the Peppers were supposed to be equally lacking or at least not living up to their fame.
It was only the third time I had seen them, and frankly, I hadn't bought a record since "Hot Minute".
After that release, with Frusciante leaving the group once again, honorably replaced by Dave Navarro, former Jane's Addiction member, the funky soul of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, the one that had so warmed the critics and beyond in '92, making Sex Sugar Sex Magic the album of the year alongside Sonic Youth's 100% and Tom Waits's Rain Dogs, the benchmark for perfect riffs and the most overwhelming rhythm section, they never remotely found that inspiration again. I arrived disappointed, largely convinced they were on the decline.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
A war machine!
I've never seen Flea and Chad Smith so amused. Anthony Kiedis, apart from his terrible Village People look, was really focused and composed. Josh Klinghoffer, the new addition on guitar, was brought in for a really tough substitution, delivering his honest counterpart. Honest, because there's nothing to be done, but in the funky grooves, he lacks the Nile Rodgers riff and makes one miss Frusciante's talent by far.
But let’s get to the evening.
A full house. Apparently, not a ticket from scalpers. A highly anticipated event.
The audience's average age was around 25. And this says a lot because Flea is generationally much closer to Mike Watt (his source of inspiration, by the way)... it speaks volumes especially because the excitement is more for tracks like Around the World or Californication, rather than the drumming hits like Higher Ground or the rap of Me & My Friends, which are almost 25 years old! They are truly in sync, Josh much more at ease when he leaves the Fender Stratocaster to strum on the ballads. A splendid stage and video set the scene and support the concert's narrative. Great direction, but never redundant. The music comes through, the sweat of Flea, Chad's wrinkles, and Anthony's merry mustache. The set design doesn't aim to hide the main course, the reason for attending the feast.
Breaking the Girl somehow defines the shift in the concert set because it immediately transitions to Under the Bridge. Everything flows, pleasantly, dancing with sweat not just on the stage but also in the stalls and crowded seats. A moment of glory for Josh, who alone performs with a frankly ungraceful tone Io sono quel che sono by Mina, yet it is not without charm and appeal. And from there, it truly crescendos to Give it Away, which apparently closes the concert in a sweat that transforms from damp to a downpour of hormonal funk. Anthony leaves the stage, leaving the remaining three in a final jam where anything becomes possible: the percussive drumming becomes light, almost brushed. A great moment of improvisation that slowly ends and the lights go out.
Long live the Peppers (but keep being funky, though...)
Loading comments slowly
