Review/Pop; A Hyperactive Evening With the Chili PeppersBy JON PARELES
Published: November 14, 1991
When the Red Hot Chili Peppers didn't get the screaming ovation they expected on Monday night at Roseland, the group's bassist, Flea, called the audience "hoity-toity" before the band started its grudging encore. But the problem wasn't the crowd, which gleefully slam-danced at every hint of a beat; it was the band, which played a fitful, poorly paced set.
Back in 1983, when the band emerged from Los Angeles, the Red Hot Chili Peppers were one of the first bands to put funk, hard rock and rap side by side. They became a major draw on the collegiate circuit as a post-punk version of a frat-party band; they play dance music, talk dirty and have gained a wild-man reputation by sometimes taking off their clothes. At Roseland they were bare-chested, but their pants or bicycle shorts stayed on.
Over pounding riffs, Anthony Kiedis chants or sings about individualism -- "I do what I want to do," he insisted in "Funky Crime" -- and about rampant horniness. Now and then, perhaps because the Chili Peppers are white musicians borrowing a predominantly black style, a song denounces bigotry and praises equality. By hip-hop standards, the raps are slow and rhythmically monotonous. But they gain muscle because they are backed by a live band, and the Chili Peppers can shift easily from one-chord funk vamps to two-chord heavy-metal stomps.
Monday night's show, the first of four at Roseland, seemed intent on dissipating any momentum it built up. Bouts of hyperactivity -- Flea doing flips, Mr. Kiedis jumping and strutting -- started and stopped as abruptly as if they had been choreographed. A jolting song would be followed by a slow one, or the band would play parts of songs by the Velvet Underground, Parliament-Funkadelic, Public Image Limited and the Sex Pistols, revealing by contrast its own lack of melody. Without memorable tunes, the Red Hot Chili Peppers have to rely on visceral appeal -- a big beat, punchy guitar chords -- and on Monday, they didn't find the groove.
The concert's two opening bands reflected the current collegiate audience's rediscovery of the early 1970's, just before the bashing and pounding of the hardest psychedelic rock was frozen into heavy metal. Pearl Jam, from Seattle, socks along like a latter-day version of Ted Nugent's Amboy Dukes. Stone Gossard and Mike McCready on guitars diligently work the wah-wah pedals while Eddie Vedder agonizes, in a foreboding baritone, over feelings of uncertainty and displacement, wondering, "Where do I stand?"
Smashing Pumpkins, from Chicago, throw more old ingredients into the mix, like the occasional folk-rock guitar lick, a raga drone or a lead vocal reminiscent of Neil Young. Its songs meander from pummeling hard rock to gentle interludes to psychedelic crescendos. While the band's album, "Gish" (Caroline), puts the pieces together smoothly, onstage Billy Corgan's crack-voiced singing was mannered and the songs' proportions seemed to be out of whack, making them episodic rather than securely eccentric.
The Red Hot Chili Peppers return to Roseland, 239 West 52d Street, Manhattan, tomorrow and Saturday.
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