The Joup Friday Album: ‘Niandra LaDes (& Usually Just a T-Shirt)’ John Frusciante

lrg-253-jfmakeupA mind is a terrible thing to waste, but damn if it isn’t fun to do so. Self destruction can be an expressway to artistic Nirvana, the catch is that you have to ultimately shed your physical self to get there, as someone who traded under that heavenly appellation would famously find out. ‘The dead do not improve’, just segue into a misunderstood and misappropriated Valhalla defined by the hands of a cumulative bastard- hack comprised of millions with their inaccurate imaginings. In 1991, on the last page of a British Metal magazine only just starting to reinvent itself as Cobain & Co’s hurricane gathered on the horizon, was an interview with John Frusciante that was epiphanic to my adolescent mind. It was my first glimpse at his idiosyncratic way of thinking – more outlandish and Dionysian than his bandmates could ever conceive of being. The interviewer completely failed to deal with his intellect (or at least, decided it would be funnier to feign ignorance and kowtow to the meat-headed readership), and Frusciante blew my impressionable young head off shoulders that had just recently known my ‘rebellious’ hair’s first contact.

Translate