IMPACTFUL ALBUMS DAY 3
History remembers 1991 as the year alternative rock “broke” pop music. Fair enough. But if my memory serves – and in trivial matters it usually does – “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was more of a final straw than battering ram. Thanks to MTV, a multitude of off-center acts broke through in the 1980s. Yes, once the first wave of music video superstars crested in the mid-’80s, pop radio devolved again into a wasteland of edgeless trifle. But cool stuff did still bubble through. In fact, by decade’s end, even some of the weirdest and wildest underground acts around had managed to forge their way into the mainstream consciousness; bringing me to the next impactful album in my queue – Red Hot Chili Peppers‘ breakthrough 1989 LP, Mother’s Milk.
Released roughly 1/4 the way through their journey (so far), Mother’s Milk may just be the most important record in Red Hot Chili Peppers’ catalog. Granted, their next LP – 1991’s Blood Sugar Sex Magik – rightfully made them superstars. It was a funk-metal masterpiece; one of my favorite records of all time; undeniably brilliant. But hear me out. Mother’s Milk is a gloriously invigorated heavymightynaughtyspazzy collection of funkaedelicjazzyrapmetalsoulpunk certainly unlike anything I’d ever heard before. It stands on its own merits as a key precursor of the ’90s alt rock explosion. Most vital, however…born from the most trying of circumstances, the album rescued a teetering RHCP from almost certain oblivion…
IT WAS THE BEST OF TIMES; IT WAS THE WORST OF TIMES
Like flawed protagonists from epic literary tradition, Red Hot Chili Peppers’ long ascent from cult fixtures of the ’80s SoCal skate punk club circuit to darlings of the ’90s alt rock scene to, finally, rock institution is not for the feint of heart; a tale full of hopeful beginnings, soul-breaking tragedies, and redemptive victories. Stick with me while I illustrate the hellish crucible the band survived to make Mother’s Milk.
In 1987, the Uplift Mofo Party Plan LP triumphantly united all four founding members for the first time on record. Their name was rising; more infamous than famous at this point, perhaps, due to their stage antics, but rising. Nine months later, in the summer of ’88, RHCP was gutted by the sudden death-by-heroin-overdose of guitarist Hillel Slovak and subsequent exit of bereaved drummer Jack Irons. The future looked bleak. But the grief stricken remnant Chili’s – rapper/vocalist/post-modern poet Anthony Kiedis (himself, caught in the throes of heroin addiction) and hyperkinetic master of the poppin’slappin’funkyass bass, Flea (Michael Balzary) – braved on.
With little time and many obligations to meet, numerous would-be replacements received trials by fire on the tour. Many names passed through – D.H. Peligro (Dead Kennedys) and DeWayne McKnight (Parliament), most notably. Ultimately, the spots went to 18-year old L.A. native guitar demigod John Frusciante and prodigious punisher of the skins Chad Smith – thus establishing the most highly esteemed, if inconstant, of all Red Hot Chili Peppers lineups to date.
SET IT STRAIGHT
Truthfully, before Mother’s Milk, I didn’t even know Red Hot Chili Peppers were a real band! Too untamed and difficult to categorize, their record label didn’t know how to sell them. Mainstream radio wouldn’t touch them. No one I knew listened to them. So, my only prior reference point was their brief, anarchic cameo in the 1986 Kirk Douglas/Burt Lancaster caper comedy Tough Guys. But, boy, did those ninety-plus seconds leave an impression. Half-naked, slathered in paint, adorned in DIY faux-glam costuming, and bouncing like pogos, the Chilis just seemed too cartoonishly unhinged and fun to be true! I was intrigued, of course. But, assuming RHCP to be a joke band/plot convenience, I didn’t investigate further. My bad.
NEVERMIND DURAN DURAN
Flash forward: high school senior year; 1989. Change was in the air. Wacked-out on a late-puberty deluge of testosterone, I edged closer to “normal” social functioning than ever before. Oh, I was still an angsty mess. But, thanks to budding friendships, improved grades, and a newfound competitive drive, things were…better. Further, detoxing cold from a serious comic book habit and seeking new hobbies (crutches) to indulge, I turned more intentionally to collecting music.
Of course, I’d already filled a few vinyl-clad cassette cases by this point. U2, INXS, and Rush were probably my favorites. I’d stockpiled some new wave (Cars; Duran Duran; Huey Lewis) and tapes by ’70s AOR survivors (Asia; Yes; ELP). But this is where things really started to get interesting. Thanks to the discovery of harder-edged rock bands (GNR; Living Colour), classic rock radio, and the conspicuous presence of underground lifers (Cult; R.E.M.; New Order) on mainstream radio, my collection expanded rapidly. And then…
In the fall of ’89, a provocative album sleeve caught my eye at a local cd shop; a high-contrast black and white image composite depicting four young, ragged shirtless fellows nestled into the arms of a beautifully bare Mother Nature. I’d always thought this shop was uncommonly sterile and unhip for an indie – like a Bose store, but they heralded the arrival of this curiosity with a modest display. Scanning the sleeve further, my eyes registered colorful text and graphics in the upper corners. The left-side read “Mother’s Milk“; the right – recognizable as a logo – bore chunky, all-caps, sans-serif text in a circle around a like-styled asterisk shape. “Wait… What…,” I paused… “RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS…? Really???” Requiring no further convincing, I paid for the tape, thanked the clerk, and enthusiastically went on my way.
TO BE CONTINUED…