Scar Tissue

Scar Tissue, da, e bine scrisă. A scris-o de fapt Larry Sloman, Kiedis probabil că bea un ceai și povestea chestii, mi se pare normal, dar pentru cititor e bine de știut că e scrisă fain. Prima jumătate mai amuzantă decât a doua. A doua mai intensă decât prima. La început râdeam și iubeam, la a doua plângeam și sufeream. Probabil că un om care nu știe RHCP, sau care crede că e o trupă mult prea comercială sau pur și simplu proastă, n-o să guste cartea, dar nu contează, e pentru freak-șii care au fost alături de ei încă din anii ’80, sau care li s-au alăturat pe parcurs, toți flancați de dracii personali și cu podelele găurite, chiar dacă acum au joburi corporatiste și se preling pe zidurile Centrului Vechi după o noapte de băut. Omu’ Kiedis e smart, sâsâit și plin de el, dansează cu spume, cântă discutabil și manipulează în draci. Dar când se uită la tine, fie că se uită cu ochișorii ăia cam strâmbi, fie că se uită prin cântecele, fie că se uită prin cuvinte, te pătrunde ca un tirbușon, scrîșt scrîșt până-n inimă și gata, ești prins. Nu-i în niciun caz atât de puternic pe cât pare, dar este mai sensibil decât pozează. Nu poți să nu înveți de la el. Nu poți să nu te simți inspirat de el. Nu poți să nu vezi prin filtrul lui cât de complexă e iubirea. Și inevitabilă, în același timp.
Restul impresiilor de călătorie prin lumea lui Kiedis, aici: https://suntgulie.wordpress.com/2016/...

At nearly 500 pages, this book is something of a slog, especially since much of the narrative concerns Anthony Kiedis seesawing between drug addiction and fleeting sobriety while fronting the Red Hot Chili Peppers, one of the world's most popular rock bands. It is well-written throughout, and Larry Sloman is a fine guide through the depths of Kiedis's tortured relationship with heroin and cocaine, but the all-encompassing nature of his addiction is such that huge chunks of the book are devoted to the singer going off on ruinous binges, to the exasperation of everyone around him. "I want to describe both sides of how I felt, but it's important to know that in the end all the romantic glorification of dope fiendery amounts to nothing but a hole of shit," he notes 200 pages in.

I did not think highly of Kiedis's songwriting before I read this book, but now I have come to appreciate that some of the band's best songs are lifted directly from his own experiences. 'Under The Bridge' is the obvious one, but I think 'Otherside' is the best single song that the Red Hot Chili Peppers ever released, and I'd have liked to read more about the situations that led up to its creation. Kiedis does this with quite a few other songs, and quotes extensively from his lyrics dating back to the band's earliest recordings, but for some reason 'Otherside' gets only a cursory mention despite being one of the songs that best describes the feelings of addiction and redemption that he knows so well.

But this is a minor complaint in the scheme of things, as despite the repetitive nature of the book – especially in the second half – I suppose it's hard to argue against this being an accurate way of showing what that lifestyle is like, when you're trapped in a cycle of behaviour that you can't get out of. It's hard to recommend 'Scar Tissue' to anyone but hardcore RHCP fans, as to my eyes, it could have done with being cut by about a third. But the insight into Kiedis's life is mostly compelling, and vividly realised, so kudos to Larry Sloman for capturing that on the page.

A lot of drugs but cool to hear about the creation of some awesome music

This is the book I secretly wanted to read when I lived in London but was too embarrassed to break out on the tube. I still have a couple of chapters to plough through. If you are considering reading this book: don't. I am not the world's biggest Chilis fan (Blood Sugar Sex Magik was hot on my list when I was 14 and have lost interest since then really) but was drawn to the book thinking there would be some good tales of rock n roll excess. Basically, all it's about is all the women he's had (there are only so many times one can be bothered to hear what animal sex he had with whom) and how many times he had to fight his drug addiction. Zzzzzzzzzz. It's fucking boring. Give it a miss. You'd be better off reading Liza Minelli's autobiog.

I grew up too early for the Red Hot Chili Peppers. My college age son raves about them, calling them the new Doors which makes their lead singer Anthony Kiedis the equivalent of a modern Jim Morrison. There are some parallels between Kiedis and Morrison. Both crafted mind-numbing lyrics in the City of Light, trolling the back alleys, canyons and mountain retreats of the West Side. Both may have qualified as "erotic politicians", Morrison's clever depiction of the Doors to a stunned and befuddled media. Both were self-destructive semi-insane nihilists whose appetite for excess drove them to the edge (Morrison slipped over while Kiedis crawled back to write this engaging, moving testimonial).
Having read at least 50 rock bios over the course of my life (the lifestyle, decadence and the road are can do you in.. Long Time Gone by David Crosby, Somebody to Love by Grace Slick, I'm With the Band by Pamela Des Barres and Wonderland Avenue by Danny Sugerman), I thought why not read about my son's favorite band and hopefully find some common ground for musical discussions.
This book was funny, insane, tragic, inspiring ... a heartfelt confession from a rock legend. The tales from the early days of the Hollywood punk scene, the overdose death of Hillel Slovak, the bouts with rehab, the disappointments, the descriptions of lyrics and personal struggles ... all of this prompted me to buy a few CDs and give these guys a listen. This is an incredible band ... in my day our biggest rock heroes were sparse power trios like Cream and the Jimi Hendrix Experience, sometimes fronted by lead singers (Doors, Who). The RHCPs belong in the same genre. I never bought into the phenom of rap music... it always reminded me of the playground jive talk and dissin I used to hear at our heavily intergrated high school except it was set to a boring backbeat. But the RHCP converted me ... probably because the testimony of Anthony Kiedis in Scar Tissue proclaimed that there is a lot of pain and bitter experience behind the music. Not your run of the mill tribe of nihilistic LA punks. I recently learned that Flea actually went back to study at USC in his forties. A worthy read.

I read this three years ago and still hate it and think from time to time about how awful it was.

I can't even count how many times I rolled my eyes throughout reading this book over the way he is with women or when he goes on about how "spiritual" he is.

The worst part, and when I knew I officially hated this pile of shit? When he talks about their tour in Japan and how "sexually reserved" Japanese women are. He said it took eight hours of coercion, but finally at dawn he was able to sleep with her. CONGRATULATIONS, you took a girl who repeatedly said no and WORE HER DOWN after HOURS of convincing her to let you fuck her. That is not a sexual conquest. That is a girl that is exhausted because she has been up all night, whose first language isn't English, and who probably just gave in because she wanted to go home. YOU ARE A FUCKING PREDATOR, and if a "regular" guy did this he wouldn't be praised for it like you expect to be, Kiedis.

And to all the people saying that you just didn't "get it" (as comments to other 1 star reviews) because it's a book about addiction, that is not the problem here. I read, and loved, Russell Brand's My Booky Wook because not only did I find him to be a great writer, but he explained his addictions in a way that didn't make him come off as a boastful douche-bag.

This is the most self indulgent, poorly written pap I have ever had the misfortune to purchase at an airport bookshop. Despite the millions of copies sold, as proclaimed on the cover, it failed to impress.

Anthony Keidis happily retells how he wasted his life on drugs, screwed and screwed over countless women, friends and collegaues and ended up alone - not even his closest friend Flea talks to him any more.

I am annoyed by the fact that any percentage of the money I paid for this book will go to Keidis. He has done nothing for the betterment of humanity despite millions of dollars, instead he wasted it away and has seemingly no regrets.

If I can stop a single person reading this book my job is done.

“Scar Tissue” is a rather conventional rock n' roll autobiography from the lead singer of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Anthony Kiedis. For fans of the band this book was written after the album Californication, which represented the band’s resurgence and ushered in their platinum decade. My wife cautiously recommended it as “airport reading.” Her description was apt. Nonetheless, for popular music fans, the book will be enjoyable. The tome is far less tragic than comparable rock bios like “No One Here Gets Out Alive” Sugarman’s defining story of Jim Morrison and “Hammer of the Gods,” which forever established Led Zeppelin as bulging deities in the rock pantheon.

Several months ago, I read “Open,” a riveting memoir of the tortured, yet soulful sports figure Andre Agassi. Shortly thereafter, I completed Keith Richards "Life." Richards' autobiography spans at least a half-century of musical and social upheaval. At the heart of his tale is the supremely talented and persistently focused lead guitarist and principal songwriter of the Rolling Stones - dosing, smiling and procreating his way to a saccharine sweet twilight. In contrast to Agassi’s pained humanity and Richard’s victorious lightness, Kiedis comes off as a controlling bandleader flourishing mid-career propelled by a prodigious work ethic and titanic narcissism. Whereas Agassi seems so much larger than his hometown, Vegas, Kiedis is oh-so very Los Angeles. Beyond the predictable struggles with drugs, sordid vignettes with legions of model-actresses and similarly hyphenated rock sycophants (roadie-pot dealer, girlfriend-masseuse), is the story of male friendship or in popular parlance, a bromance. The bromance begins curiously enough with Spider, his lothario cum drug dealer father. Hardly a patriarch, Spider is the Senior Dude to little Tony, the Junior Dude. Like many Southern Californian offspring of Acquarian-age parents, Kiedis grows up in a non-traditional atmosphere living hand-to-mouth, loosely guided and misguided by part-time parents who vacillate from child rearing to communal kibbutzing and moments between punctuated by light criminal high jinx. This unstable foundation orphaned Anthony into the LA punk scene at an early age. Luckily, the bromance continues with childhood bros Flea and the doomed Hillel Slovak, the core of “the Chilis.” Thus, the band was formed and played together right up to their first truly exceptional album “Mother’s Milk.” Although I was a fan of RHCP during this time (early 1990s), I, like others, was more drawn to the perceived grit and power of Nirvana in a manner similar to my admiration of the Wu-Tang over the Paul's Boutique-era Beastie Boys. In retrospect, I was misguided to ignore the superior musicianship of the Chilis. This was a common mistake of any fan with roots in 70s punk. There is a natural distrust of music which fratboys are also playing.

Like many rockagraphies, Kiedis’ story follows a familiar journey: unlikely kid from the track’s Other Side makes friends, friends make band, band gets hot, orgies follow soon thereafter leading inexorably to a 12-step program and the inspiring tell-all. Kiedis admirably negotiates his way through the detritus of shattered veins, scattered needles and broken hearts. By his own admission, he is a swordsman par excellence and gushes over his conquests, yet maintains a modicum of respect for them. Like Page, Plant and Richards before him, this rock god's taste for the feminine is impeccable. The carnal options are endless. But alas by Chapter 8, the rock hero yearns for, like, more dude.....Beautiful women, good drugs and piles of money can be so tiresome indeed.

Of great interest to rock fans will be the insights into contemporary artists – most notably producer Rick Rubin (the hip hop Brian Eno), River Phoenix, Kurt Cobain and Eddie Vetter. A brief dalliance with Sinead O’Connor is both touching and pointless - like many Chili songs.

I was motivated to read the book less by Kiedis and more so by the potential presence of John Frusciante, the Chilis brilliant, mercurial guitarist. As central as Frusciante is to the band’s funk-dipped, ska-infused melody mosh, in “Scar Tissue” he is only a supporting player in Kiedis' LALAland opera. This obvious slight speaks volumes about Kiedis. In “Life,” Richards’ clearly reveres Mick in spite of their creative differences and wildly contrasting life philosophies. He is inextricably linked to Richards as muse, brother, mother and manager.

Ultimately, fans of the Chilis will find this book to be essential reading, a perfect accompaniment to Kiedis’ own lyrics and the documentary “Funky Monks” which captures the 1992 recording of Blood Sugar Sex Magik – the Chilis’ genre-busting seminal hit. After reading this bio, fans of Kiedis will likely find that Behind the Music is an endearing, inspiring musician that actually wears very little Scar Tissue in the end. I also appreciate Kiedis' remarkably original and often improvisational lyrical talent more than ever. Unlike Morrisson, I rarely find his song writing awkward or embarrassing. He seems intelligent as well as a quick wit. I will file this one away and wait anxiously for the towering Frusciante biography. Someone write it already. Enjoy rock fans.