Red Hot Chili Peppers
The Getaway

Growing up in the 2000s, the Red Hot Chili Peppers have been a constant presence in my life long before I even formed my own musical taste. In 2016, I was 18, and my discovery of the band was at its peak. It goes without saying that the news of a new album made me excited for many months. At the first listen, it was a surprise, at the second, perplexity, at the third, euphoria; that's why I hope you'll forgive me if this review seems biased or if you consider it as praise for a mediocre album.

“The Getaway” is the first Red Hot album not produced by Rick Rubin, who was replaced by Danger Mouse. The change is evident, the atmospheres are intimate and dreamy, yet dynamic and fresh; imagine taking “Road Trippin'” and listening to it on the rhythm of “Otherside,” add a touch of Tame Impala, et voilà; the comparison is somewhat crude, but the essence is similar.
The new sounds are enhanced by the addition of '80s synths, particularly prominent in “Go Robot” and “Sick Love,” and very fitting piano passages, which I never would have expected to find in a Peppers album.

Nigel Godrich's mixing also deserves mention; the sounds are rich and full, pleasing to listen to even at high volume, and have nothing to do with the mess that was made with “Californication.”

The album as a whole draws heavily from the decade's Indie Rock, where the guitars are certainly less present, but the few riffs that surface are powerful and hypnotic, often dirtier compared to those of the never-forgotten Frusciante: they stand out over a straightforward, yet vital and enveloping rhythm. The harmonizations accompany without overdoing it, giving a melodic and smoky tone to the choruses.

Kiedis keeps his rapping on a middle ground between the syncopation of the early albums and the melody of ballads like “Wet Sand” or “Californication,” resulting in vocal tracks that are soft but rhythmic, which hold their own live (and we all know that with Anthony, you never know).

The album brings out its best with “Goodbye Angels,” a fantastic climax that bursts into an energetic bass slap, later overtaken by the other instruments (did someone say “The Chain”?). “Dark Necessities” and “The Longest Wave” are certainly the best ballads, while “Detroit” has a raw energy unique in the album. I honestly expected something more from the title track in the opening, but fortunately, “Dreams of a Samurai” at the end makes up for it, leaving a sense of satiety and satisfaction.

The 13 songs, spread over 53 minutes, follow one another without any feeling like filler. It's a shame for the lack of some interlude tracks that could have provided a breather between pieces and perhaps given the band a chance to throw in some freer jams.

The most nostalgic, those who equate “Californication” with the end of the Red Hot, might find this album decidedly too pop and not funky enough (they'd probably refuse to listen to it to be honest). Remnants of the early works' madness remain here and there, but the tone, overall, is reflective, thoughtful, more essential.

The album, while not perfect, immediately stands out in the Peppers' discography, and shows a chameleon-like ability to adapt to the times, translated into a new kind of rock, which apparently can still find a place at the top of the charts, despite what we've been telling ourselves for the past ten years.