Just six months after their last album “Unlimited Love”, the Red Hot Chili Peppers are around the corner with their next studio work (“Return Of The Dream Canteen”). The friend of arena-ready funk rock enthusiastically throws his arms in the air.
The guitar at the ready, lots of bubblegum between the cheeks and off you go! The Red Hot Chili Peppers reported back half a year ago with a lot of groove, crystal-clear sound and a returned Johns Frusciante in top form. Now the Californian hit guarantors around frontman Anthony Kiedis and exceptional bassist Flea follow up with another long player. Just in time for fall, the Chili Peppers are still shooting some great summer vibes from their aging hips.
“Tippa My Tongue”, the lead single from “Return Of The Dream Canteen”, brings to the table everything that has made the band so unique for almost forty years now. The tight drumming of drummer Chad Smith, the trend-setting four-string twitches of Flea, the enchanting lick work of band mariachi John Frusciante and Anthony Kiedis’ organ, which still oscillates between kindergarten and arena stage: when all of this rides a wave, you have to all other similarly knitted combos in this world are put behind them.
No less groovy than the well-known opener, the second track flutters through the living room. “Peace
Eddie Van Halen would certainly have liked to risk an ear here. The Van Halen guitarist, who unfortunately died much too early, is ennobled again a few minutes later by everyone, but especially by John Frusciante, and is musically carried on his hands (“Eddie”). At the latest after this track, Frusciante’s fingers should have bled. But what don’t you do for your heroes. In the later “Roulette” another icon of the past greets us from the realm of the dead. The ghost of Jimi Hendrix with a big grin on his face seems to fall into the house with the door.
The Chili Peppers almost wallow in their trademarks and in some moments almost overflow the experimental barrel. When even the die-hard fan scratches his ears questioningly at Kiedische childishness à la “My-My-My-My-My-My-My-My-My Cigarette” and one or the other solo from the returnee’s magic box can hardly be tamed, then one wonders whether a shorter and more condensed work would not have been better.
But said moments are the exception, and so after a whopping 75 minutes of playing time, you’re more likely to point your thumbs up than to ask the question: Couldn’t you have made a really great album out of two pretty good ones? Even before the answer is formed, the index finger is already pressing the “Repeat All” button. You just want to hear it again, the big picture, this never-ending flow of experimentation and these grooves that just don’t want to let you go.
