In the 1980s, Red Hot Chili Peppers were a very different band to the one that made the Beach Boys and Beatles-inspired By the Way (2002), or that responsible for 2022’s Unlimited Love and Return of the Dream Canteen – perhaps the closest to their ’80s material since the actual ’80s.
The original lineup had been disrupted by guitarist Hillel Slovak and drummer Jack Irons staying loyal to their “serious” band What Is This? when both groups got record deals (the Chilis had initially been seen as something of a jokey side project).
Vocalist Anthony Kiedis and bassist Flea recruited drummer Cliff Martinez, who they liked, and Jack Sherman, who they didn’t. Their debut record failed to replicate the energy that made the band’s shows immediately successful upon their formation in late 1982 Los Angeles (the handful of demo songs recorded with Slovak and Irons, released on reissues, did a better job).
Then for 1985’s Freaky Styley, the Peppers got their dream producer: George Clinton. Sherman was kicked out; Hillel returned, and Martinez stuck around (Irons came back for the next album). Although Blood Sugar Sex Magik (1991) is often credited with finally capturing their live band energy, Freaky Styley undeniably has some of that fun and carefree spirit.
Clinton encouraged Kiedis to tackle his toughest vocal challenge yet, a cover of Sly and the Family Stone’s ‘If You Want Me To Stay’. Aside than that funk ballad (or whatever one might call Sly’s masterpiece), Freaky Styley largely comprised the relentless funk-punk first heard with ‘Out In LA’ – only now they were leaning hard on the funk (especially in the case of the Sly cover, ‘American Ghost Dance’, and a Hollywood take on The Meters’ ‘Africa’).
One song that epitomised that funk-punk hybrid was ‘Nevermind’, a diss track, mostly to other guitar bands rather than rappers. Kiedis was initially inspired to write songs by Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five’s ‘The Message’, realising that he needn’t be a virtuoso singer to perform.
Clinton’s Funkadelic had dissed bands much earlier: on ‘Let’s Take It To The Stage’ (1975), they’d poked fun at James Brown (calling the Godfather of Soul “Godmother” and “Grandfather”), Sly and the Family Stone (“Slick and the Family Brick”), Kool and the Gang (“Fool and the Gang”), and Rufus (“Sloofus”). Clinton adored Sly, and it was quite clearly good-natured ribbing.
Before that, there were ‘diss tracks’ from Lee "Scratch" Perry as Lee "King" Perry in 1967 (‘Run for Cover’ against his former producer, Clement Dodd aka Sir Coxsone), Paul McCartney in 1970 (‘Too Many People’ against John Lennon and Yoko Ono’), and depending on how one interprets the lyrics, another Brown diss much earlier: Joe Tex’s ‘You Keep Her’ in 1963. ‘Yankee Doodle’, sang by British military officers and written around 1755 (to an older tune), might have been the first ever diss song.
The Peppers’ song isn’t so clearly good natured as Funkadelic’s: in his 20s, Kiedis was rather less open-minded than today. It seems possible he felt Hall & Oates and others deserved genuine criticism. Although, “Those guys are a couple of goats!” takes on a different meaning today.
Other targets are Duran Duran, the ‘Pack Jam’ (a track by early rap/electro group The Honzun Crew), the Gap Band, the Zapp Band, the funk scam (not an artist, but presumably so-called funky bands that failed to deliver the funk), the British bands, the synth-funk bands, “the Wham Wham band” (Wham!), the Soft Cell shit, the Men At Work, and the Culture Club. Kiedis makes that list sound rhythmic, if not poetic.
The self-referential chorus—“WE’RE THE RED HOOOOT... CHILIIII... PEPP-EERRS!”— follows a Funkadelic tradition of singing about themselves. On Funkadelic’s self-titled debut, there was ‘Mommy, What’s a Funkadelic?’; Tales of Kidd Funkadelic (1976) was named after Michael Hampton; and on songs like ‘Standing On the Verge of Getting It On’, ‘Who Says a Funk Band Can’t Play Rock?!’ and ‘Good To Your Earhole’, the narrator often refers to the band.
Flea’s bassline is one of his more restrained among the first few albums, especially for such a high-energy song. Rather than slapping and popping at lightning speed, he repeats the same few notes through much of the song. That’s not to say Flea’s not contributing to the song’s energy energy: it’s impossible not to feel his accents, the muted string in the main phrase, the popped open string, and his hard finger plucking. Flea, Hillel, and Martinez satisfyingly play three beats together (e.g. from 0:38, 1:10, 1:37) toward the end of choruses and to usher in new sections.
Hillel’s guitar playing is about as ’80s as the Chilis got, especially during the solo (1:40), where he wanders into the kind of psychedelic territory that Clinton was wary of by the mid-’80s. But Hillel’s rhythm playing is brilliantly energising: following the chorus, the switch in strum patterns gives the song new momentum, and his emphasis of the two and four is a great contrast with Flea hitting the One.
In 2018, when new guitarist Josh Klinghoffer and the band were keen on revisiting older tunes, they performed a great version of ‘Nevermind’ in Argentina. Kiedis half-smiles shortly after the “goats” line. Klinghoffer nods to Hillel’s reverb-laden bends.
Top image from Discogs.