I Am Madly, Deeply In Love WIth John Frusciante

We haven’t heard much from John Frusciante since he quit Red Hot Chili Peppers in 2008 and blessed us with The Empyrean the following year. I like to think that he’s been sitting on a California porch caved with palm trees strumming some beat-up electric guitar, chord hanging down through his knees, unplugged, screaming perfectly.

But guess what! Following nearly two years of no Frusciante-related news, this week it leaked that he’s releasing an EP, Letur Lefr (whatever that means), in July. In true Frusciante fashion, he will be releasing Letur Lefr on cassette (along with other more-accessible formats). Thank Frusciante! I need some new lyrics to drool over.

When Frusciante screams, I see God. Frusciante is God. God is Frusciante. That’s how much I love his music, his voice, and his guitar style, him in general. I love Frusciante the way an obsessive teenager loves Justin Bieber, except with an element of I-respect-your-songs-as-much-as-your-sex-appeal added to my fandom.

My obsession with John happened on tour a few years ago. I had just finished reading Anthony Kiedis’ self-indulgent biography, Scar Tissue. After nearly 500 pages of Kiedis’ make-out session with his own ego, John seemed vaguely appealing. I got a hold of all his solo albums, watched every video I could, and read everything available. I even wrote a song about him. I couldn’t get enough. I still can’t.

When I die, I hope heaven is a plush, white bed with John on one side and me on the other. He’ll sing and I'll listen. We won’t even talk. I’m too nervous to talk, even in heaven.

In honor of his return to the modern world of music, I have compiled a list of my favorite Frusciante moments. A Frusciante spank-bank, if you will. Just kidding. Not.

For a long time after he kicked a brutal heroin and cocaine addiction, John only wore long sleeves on stage to cover up his scarred-up arms. Most people think the scars were a result of erratic freebasing, which led to him burning himself and his house, but that’s wrong. The scars are just a build-up of tissue from years of him incorrectly injecting drugs. You remember that Dutch special they did on him in the early 90’s, right? John is holed up in his dump of an LA mansion, thin as an Olsen twin, talking about junky dreams no one will understand. The performance is short, but powerful.

These are the kinds of interviews that make me believe that Kiedis would tell you he wants to “make love” and then, aggressively jam his flaccid dick into your mouth, where as John may say “I’m going to fuck you,” but he’d make sure you got off too.

John was really young when he joined his favorite rock band, Red Hot Chili Peppers. Imagine that? You fan on a band one minute, then the next you are their new guitar player. Where is the bridge between these gaps? No wonder he fell so hard. In this clip, John is telling a story about watching a girl getting fisted while on a break from recording Blood Sugar Sex Magik. Here you have John, spread eagle with a cane hanging on his shoulder, trying to impress his older bandmates with a sexually charged story. Kiedis loves it, you can tell, but Mr. Big Cheese has to belittle John by making a dumb joke and taking off like he’s too good for the story. You know he walked away jealous he didn’t see the black pussy hole.

He’s so I-don’t-give-a-fuck. He’s even explaining the chords. Like the audience even asked, but they love it. He could charm the pants off of a nun.

This VPRO documentary about RHCP is really long and really good. A good interview means you draw stuff out of your subject that is beyond the usual PR bullshit. This reporter got it here. I’m sure if he had told John he didn’t like one of his songs today, John would have just shrugged. But in this clip, he’s young and eager, so instead of shrugging when the reporter tells him he doesn’t like the song “Funky Monks,” John pesters him why, then gives him the entire back story of how the song was written while also calling out the fact that Kiedis cannot play the guitar, like, at all.

Okay, even I’m embarrassed at the amount of times I have watched this video because if ANY OTHER MAN ON EARTH EVER DID THESE KINDS OF MOVES WITH A GUITAR STRAPPED TO HIM I WOULD BECOME A LESBIAN ON PRINCIPLE. How does he pull it off?

“I need to be able to hear music clearly,” said God. “When dogs bark it really drives me crazy.” So, we killed all the dogs.

@myszkaway