Me and My Friends #38 - My Lovely Man Minutia / Now and Then Again
Hello friends,
Happy 2 year anniversary of John's return. Too bad the plague derailed it.
Apologies for the radio silence (or should I say newsletter silence) as of late, but as you may or may not know, I've had some news:
My book about the band in their first year together, OUT IN L.A., will be coming to Chicago Review Press some time in, I hope, 2022. More news when I have it, but things are coming along nicely.
The RHCP song I've listened to the most over the past twelve months has been "My Lovely Man." I couldn't tell you why.
Actually, maybe I can. I recently got a new pair of good headphones, instead of middling or okay or bad headphones, and the only RHCP album that you can really blast on them without killing your ears or just listening to a clipping mess is Blood Sugar Sex Magik, which in the past has always been a little quiet. So I've developed a new appreciation for one of the best sounding rock records of all time, and one which hasn't been needlessly remastered. And in this new appreciation, "My Lovely Man" has stuck out.
In particular, I've been loving the quieter, "Oh yes I'm crying..." sections between the verses, which I suppose is the song's chorus. It comes out of nowhere, it's funky as all hell, and it's got maybe the best sounding drums in the band's discography. But here's something I've always wondered about - and forgive me if I get too deep into the weeds here, but if you're subscribed to this newsletter or have read one before then I suppose you should really be expecting it by now - but here goes...
In the first chorus, John plays this great guitar line. In the second, you can hear him (audibly) catch himself and stop playing that line, instead scratching out a rhythm to accompany Flea. In the third chorus, the guitar part returns.
Is not playing it in the second chorus an intentional decision? For years I thought maybe he messed up the fingering and instead of trying to catch up with himself, just rolled with it, a bit like his mistake in "The Greeting Song." And despite what the public say, I think something similar also happened on "Hump De Bump."
Or... is that section essentially a bass solo? It's a very simple but effective part, and one of the rare moments on the album where Flea gets to do his own thing, if only for a few bars. And it helps build up the dramatic effect of John's solo. The fact that Anthony doesn't sing during this part might suggest this is the case, and the one thing he does say is about Flea. (On the record, because it's squashed in with the mix, it just sounds like "Get up!" but he's really saying "Get it, Flea.")
So. Was the mistake John actually made that he played some of his part at all? Was he supposed to be quiet the whole time, and just played a note or two of it by mistake? It might be that this particular section of the song turned into a bass solo because John wound up playing nothing during it.
Either way, I think the canon version of the song is that it's a solo. When the band played the song live for the first time, John plays nothing. When they played it live for one of the most recent (but hopefully not last) times, the section is even more of a bass solo. But it maybe it wasn't always meant to be that way. Maybe John started to play his line, his fingers slipped, and a solo section was born. Or maybe it was written like that from the start.
These, my friends, are the thoughts you have during your 8,000th listen to a song. This is the type of joy that only repeated listens can give you.
Don't say I didn't warn you!
I haven't done one of these in a while, though to be honest they always make me sort of melancholy.
Let's see how many locations from a certain stretch of shows still exist. This time, let's go back to December 1984. Can you still spend time in the same rooms that the first album line-up existed in? Has the world moved on? Has America changed irreversibly?
December 4, 1984
The Underground Railroad, Morgantown, West Virginia.
Still open! Now a live music venue named 123 Pleasant Street.
December 5, 1984
City Gardens, Trenton, New Jersey.
Closed in 2001, though the building is still standing (for now). Wouldn't want to spend too much time here after dark.
December 6, 1984
Ontario Theatre, Washington D.C.
Demolished in 2013 and is now, you guessed it, an apartment block.
December 7, 1984
Spit, Boston, Massachusetts.
From the looks of it, now a House of Blues.
December 8, 1984
The Ritz, New York City, New York.
Still open, and now known as Webster Hall.
December 12, 1984
Peppy's, Baton Rouge, Louisiana.
No clue what happened to Peppy's, because I can't find an address for it. The latest mention of it I could find anywhere was a 1987 newspaper article about Louisiana Animal Control putting an end to the club's practice of having an.... ahem, live bear... on the dance floor...that would wrestle patrons. I'm going to assume the place is now shut.
December 13, 1984
Numbers Night Club, Houston, Texas.
Still going strong in the same location.
December 15, 1984
The Starck Club, Dallas, Texas.
Closed in 1989. Was recently a nightclub named Zouk, but that's shut too.
December 16, 1984
The Bowery, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.
Closed in 1985, but from the sounds of it the room is still there. There's a nice mention of Anthony and Flea in that article. And be sure to hit that link to the RHCP Archive, because you can listen to that night's show. One of the few recordings we have with Jack Sherman.
4 out of 10. About right.
I hope your 2021 has been safe and healthy, or at least as safe and healthy as possible, and that things return back to normal for us all soon.
See you in 2022! A new album, a new tour, and hey - maybe even a book from me! How weird is that?