Me and My Friends #53 - Live in Sydney 2023
On February 2 and February 4 of 2023, I saw the Red Hot Chili Peppers live in Sydney, at Accor Stadium.
It was the 6th and 7th time I've seen them in a period that now spans 16 years. From the exhausted Stadium Arcadium shows in 2007; to the tail-end of the I'm with You era at a festival show that I honestly have zero memory of; in 2019, as I witnessed my last shows with Josh without realizing it, and finally twice this past week, with John back, the band in a groove, and the future looking very bright.
Both shows were wildly different experiences. The first was in the "Golden Circle," mushed right up close to the band among a few thousand other fans, so close to the stage I could make out tattoos, expressions, the first little glimmers of natural grey in Anthony's hair. The second was in seats so far away the boys were mere specks on the horizon; if it weren't for the building sized screens on either side, I'd have seen nothing. Up close, the sound was great if not a little mushy. In the faraway seats, I may as well have been outside the stadium (these places were built for sporting events, after all, not concerts).
My company was different between the two shows as well. The first was with a friend who is only casually a fan of the band, whose ticket I gave him for free and who wouldn't have gone otherwise. The second was with my long-suffering partner, who has always been supportive, but who I'm not sure even likes the band all that much (she says she does, but she would say that, wouldn't she).
Some points between the two shows was the same. Mostly I was happy, if not a little un-nerved to be listening to the Red Hot Chili Peppers with so many other people.
The major feeling running through my head at each show was, just like last time, the odd reminder that the band actually existed in the real world. I know intellectually that they are an enormous, world-famous behemoth who have been on MTV longer than I've been alive. I put out a book about them internationally a few weeks ago, I follow their commercial performance closely, speak with fans around the globe on a daily basis and regularly watch concert videos in which thousands of people are present. But this all happens, as strange as it is to say it, in my head, or on a screen. As we all know, the internet isn't a real place.
The band are obviously a major part of me, but in my personal life I downplay them; I don't listen to them around other people if I can help it, I try not to talk about them too much. It's not embarrassment, or anything like that. I just like to keep them separate. I can't explain it.
I see people wearing Chili Peppers shirts on the streets occasionally. I think to myself, huh, I wonder if they've been to my site, or some variation of that. But it's infrequent enough that it's an anomaly. To sit on a train, or be in a crowd, full of people wearing Chili Peppers shirts, it just felt surreal. And it happens so rarely that I never quite get used to it.
Thursday. We caught the express train. Central to Olympic Park. Herded between fenced off areas, prompted along by bored security guards. I've never felt like cattle so much in my life, but seeing the behaviour of some of the young men around us, it felt appropriate. It was about 6pm and some of them had clearly been drinking all day. It's deep summer here; every second bare set of shoulders was beet red, eyes (also red) were growing heavy, and sitting in a hot train for an hour didn't help things. The stench of bourbon and aspartame lingered.
This was an "express" service in that it stopped at three stations on the way, and then just stopped between stations while some unknown blockage ahead was cleared. Sydney's rail infrastructure is abysmal, held together with duct tape and almost completely gutted by the government. The slightest breeze, the slightest bit of drizzle, and the whole thing comes screeching to a halt. This was one of those days.
But we got there eventually, and after traversing to the complete other side of the stadium we found our gate. Tickets scanned, wrists banded up, down a flight of stairs, down a ramp, into the concrete bowels of the stadium, past an endless line of Porta Potties and a drinks line into which people quite freely cut, and then out into the waning sunshine again. It was an odd feeling. I think the Covid-years reset my brain; being around this many people was a shock. It was almost dream-like.
The friend I went with wanted to see Post Malone, who inexplicably opened for the band on this leg of the tour (the Grammy performance was strange enough, but this was a really odd pairing). I'd have happily skipped him, but figured I was paying to see him anyway, so may as well see what all the fuss was about (I had not knowingly heard any of his music). He's in the middle of metal and pop-rap, almost torn between the two. I wonder how much of it is a commercial decision and how much is him really following his heart, if it isn't in fact entirely genuine. Not my cup of tea, but he seems like a nice guy.
At one point there was a commotion at the front of the crowd, and a young man was pulled out and thrown on stage, given an acoustic guitar and allowed to accompany Post on a song. I couldn't understand how it all happened so seamlessly - how was Post sure he even knew how to play? - until I later discovered that it happens at virtually every show. It felt a little less spontaneous then. But the guy got his time with his hero, so it was still a nice moment.
When the band arrived on stage (without much fanfare, I should say, I miss Eric Dolphy's "God Bless the Child"), I had a sudden resurgence of that uncanny feeling: wow, John's back. We've all gotten used to it over the past three years, but after seeing him walk out a few meters away from me, I inadvertently murmured "that's John Frusciante" to myself. Another example of the difference between an online and a real-life experience.
Then I watched Chad trip and fall up onto his drum riser. They're human after all! His gong - hit once and only once at the beginning of each show - can't be cost effective.
The band played well. They were all on fine form. Anthony's use of the teleprompter seems to have improved his performance ten-fold. If I had to partake in a little bit of armchair psychology, I'd say John wasn't really feeling it, but what do I know? He still slayed.
This was the setlist:
I keep an eye on setlists, but only casually, so there were a few pleasant surprises. I thought "These are the Ways" had been retired for a Dream Canteen song, so was happy to hear that. "Tippa My Tongue" was swapped out for "The Heavy Wing," a far superior track. "Soul to Squeeze" appearing early in the set gave me hope for "Under the Bridge" showing up in the encore (as we all know, they seem to be hesitant to play it lately), but "Sir Psycho Sexy" appearing was the highlight of both shows for me. I had been waiting a long time to see that song live, and had basically given up on ever getting it. The less said about "The Drummer" and "Black Summer" the better; if "Whatchu Thinkin'" and "She's A Lover" could have replaced those two, I'd have gone home a very happy man. "Reach Out" was lovely and heavy, though I think the verses only exist to give something the chorus can play against, and as for "Eddie?" If the band are still a touring act in 5 years, I think it's going to be the one song from this era that will reliably pop up in setlists, the way "...Rain Dance Maggie" was pretty much the only one from I'm with You that got played into 2019.
Speaking of 2019, after the two shows I saw that year, I noted that Flea basically ran things, doing all of the crowd interaction and keeping the energy up, and not much has changed in that respect. Anthony was clearly having monitor and throat issues so spent every chance he could get off-stage fixing himself up, much like he did in 2019 (what that actually entails... I have no idea). At one point he asked John to play a song so he could take a break. You can see the same thing happen here, back in 2004.
This time, John froze up, refusing to do it. Nerves, mental blank, wrong headspace? I'm not sure, but it's probably the biggest change between pre-and post-his return; the amount of solo singing he does has plummeted. Instead, Flea stepped in and did "Pea."
To witness the three of them have that conversation in real time, from Anthony saying it to John and the crowd, to John shaking his head, to Anthony literally openly pleading with John - hand gestures and all - to John growing more and more adamant and even approaching being visibly frustrated, to Flea jumping in and saving the day. A fascinating interaction to watch unfold in front of you, and a fascinating conversation to have in front of sixty thousand people.
There's been some noise in the "press" here that the band "made" a "lot of people" very "unhappy" by having the gall to play some of their new songs, during a tour for two new albums released less than a year ago, instead of just playing a Greatest Hits set.
Strangely enough I don't recall there being any complaints when they played new stuff in 2007, 2013, or 2019, so I can only imagine that either Unlimited Love and Dream Canteen haven't had the same impact on fans that previous albums did... or the nature of the industry nowadays is such that big acts like the Chili Peppers are expected to only play their hits and nothing else; to do any different is somehow an affront to those shelling out their well-earned cash. Apparently many people (or at least just the loud ones with TikTok accounts) went home in a state of extreme depression because they didn't do "Under the Bridge."
There only real money in music these days is in touring. This is why all these aging legends still get out there night after night when in years past they could put their feet up and rely on back-catalogue album sales to get an income. But this new focus winds up making these acts only focus on touring, not on new music, or at least not as much as they should. And when they play, they play to please the casual crowd.
The Chili Peppers are in that boat too, and they could do a hits-only setlist. God knows they have the ability; they fact they split their setlists in half from night to night is a testament to that. But it'd probably bore the hell out of them, and it dismisses the idea that they're still an active concern who write new stuff and want that music to be acknowledged.
It is frustrating, though, because I can see the benefits of both sides. I found myself wondering what that difference in feeling was around me every time the band played a new song. There was less recognition, less palpable joy, less movement from the crowd. After a while I realised what it was: no-one else was singing along. The performance felt less full. "Californication" lead into "The Drummer"...one got a singalong, one got tepid applause.
As someone on Reddit put it: "The people complaining that they didn't get Under the Bridge aren't fans at all, they're casuals just looking for a drunk karaoke night." Which is true, but hearing the ecstasy that accompanied the large-scale recognition of a classic song made me happy, and witnessing hundreds of people start looking at their phone when something they didn't know started made me... well, sad. There's no defending people who think a show sucked because they didn't do their homework and only listen to the hits, but there's no changing their minds either. If I had to pick a concert full of cheering, happy lunatics over one with a visibly bored crowd, I know which one I'd pick, even if I'd prefer a better version of the world.
But every show, and every crowd is different, of course. And I'm coming at this from a completely different angle than most; a super-fan who knows the words to all the new songs and follows the band to an obsessive degree. Maybe if I went to, say, a Foo Fighters concert I'd prefer it if they only did stuff I know. Just something to ruminate on.
One delightful moment: about ten people over from me was a young boy of around five, decked out in a tiny denim jacket that was covered in band logos, heavy-duty earmuffs, and sitting on his father's shoulders. Before "Eddie," Anthony made a speech about being a youngster himself and pointed out the kid in the crowd to a wild cheer. An hour later, during the encore break, members of the audience were put on the big screens at the side of stage, and the young boy showed up again - still going strong, way past his bedtime. The crowd gave him the biggest cheer of the night. I hope he remembers it.
Saturday. My partner blessedly didn't want to see Post Malone, so we were able to take a later train and skip the opening act entirely. This same express service, an hour later than on Thursday, was completely empty from start to finish. What crowds had squeezed against us a few days previous were absent. It makes a hell of a difference. I recommend skipping every opening act if you can.
As this was the second show in a row I was attending, I figured I'd go for something different and get seated tickets. We wound up... quite far from the stage. As in, on the opposite side of the stadium. A rough estimate is about 160 meters.
I won't, if I can help it, sit this far away at a concert ever again. Or at least if I do, the tickets better be free. As we made our way up and up flights of stairs and down corridors (seeing a crowd of people wearing Chili Peppers shirts felt a little less strange this time) I started to wonder just how well the sound was going to translate from a set of amplifiers on stage all the way out to our seats.
It couldn't be that bad, I told myself. Bands have been performing at venues like these for a long time now, and technology being what it is, surely they've sorted out the sound by now. Not so! The drums were non-existent and it was quiet enough you could basically hear someone whispering beside you. It was like a bad bootleg from 1992. Maybe it sounded better elsewhere in the stadium, but combined with the distance, the fact we were all sitting down and staring at a faraway screen... it just felt like we were just watching a movie. We may as well have put Live at Slane Castle on a very big TV and stood at the other end of a car park, the experience and the sound was the same.
But now I know; next time, I'll be right up front for both shows.
This was the setlist:
Again, they were on very fine form, and again there were a few more nice surprises. If John was having an off night on Tuesday, he was feeling better today. "Aquatic Mouth Dance" was good fun, though the band can get a little lost in themselves when they play it; I've always thought it went on for a verse too long. "Tippa My Tongue" was okay, though it was pretty obvious that only approximately 4% of the crowd had actually heard it before, and seeing as it was supposed to be the lead single for an album, that's a little concerning. "Eddie," again, already felt like a classic. To witness the world premiere of "Carry Me Home" was a delight - it's one of my favourite songs (maybe the favourite) off Dream Canteen, but its placement at the very end of the sequencing made me think it was going to be forgotten about, like "The Hunter" or "We Believe." Again I thought we were in for "Under the Bridge," because "I Could Have Lied" came so early in the set, and they wouldn't play "Soul to Squeeze" again after playing a few nights previous. Not so. (Will they play it in Australia at all? I wait with bated breath.)
The first show was more fun for me, and I think it had a better set, although it's hard to judge it fairly because the sound was so poor at the second one. But hey, I got 28 different songs over two nights, and I got to watch John Frusciante play the "Eddie" solo live with sixty thousand other fans twice in one week - I've only got wonderful things to say about that.
In the end, it was a lovely experience to spend some real life time with the guys again. Going to shows makes me appreciate them as an actual physical thing who don't just appear on a computer or a phone screen, and I admire their musicality, energy, and commitment more than ever. It can't be fun to have to get out and do that night after night, especially if you don't feel like doing it. But damn if they're not professionals.
Seeing them live also helps me appreciate their place in the industry, in my world, in their own world. This is the same band I saw in 2007 in many ways, but a lot has happened in these sixteen years, and it's still a miracle we get to see them at all.
It's been three days now, and the excitement and shock and exhaustion has worn off, and I've done all the thinking I need to. All I'd like to do right now is be on my way to Marvel Stadium in Melbourne for show #3...