Sunday, January 16, 2011

John Frusciante-Niandra Lades and Usually Just a T Shirt

Sneer if you will and I won't begrudge you anything. But this is a post for Sam, so all other people can duck out on this if they want. Since it came up in a conversation I want to pass it along to someone who has yet to hear this album. If you know this guy's name I'm sure it's associated with frat rock that soundtracked incalculable date rapes, but that is so far beyond what this record is actually about. Instead of the shitty white boy, jerky dance (Matt, you're imitation is still the best), shit that is the Red Hot Chili Peppers (insert cringe), this is some seriously drug addled mindfuckery. It's completely fine to be skeptical. In fact, I'd say that's probably a good approach to living one's life, but in this case you can let the guard down for a moment. If you appreciate the whole loner folk/weirdo outside artist, this will trump most of those rediscovered "classics." I know this sounds ridiculous, but I'm not joking. Yeah, even I hate the fact that I'm right about this. But fuck it, why do I feel like I have to justify this to you?



  1. Your pussy's glued to a building on fire.

    And y'know, I (gulp) have my RHCP moments. I KNOW. But over the course of far too many years, though not of late, RHCP soundtracked several major personal upheavals. Is that really any worse than a John Hughes fetish?

    Don't answer that. And I do NOT have a John Hughes fetish, praise the lord!

  2. Hmm...Not too sure what I should say about this. I guess it's good that you lack the Hughes fetish. RHCP...I'll just let that one be.