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Nice to see a lot of Frusciante love on this forum... I got into his solo music in 1997 around the same time I got into Sonic Youth... He's still my favorite solo act (although his latest stuff doesn't even approach Niandra Lades or Smile From the Streets you Hold, I still a bunch of goodness in it.) and Sonic Youth are still my favorite band, period. The two are deeply connected in my mind because they were the two artists who kind of opened me up to any quote unquote experimental music, and I wouldn't have been receptive without them I don't think.
Plus, a Frusciante song has my favorite fucking lyrics ever... off Niandra Lades and Ussually Just a T-shirt:
Untitled 12
Blind your head in catastrophes, icicles,
No one's fed in cycles led by cycles dead
asked to shine the flag,
Love is distant and
Blue scents like apples bite
And flow through my hands.
I said "Hi" to a man who shot his sister,
pan down through the station,
And jumped in front of a train.
He said "I was a bit confused to meet you,"
but that's what scissors do to a day.
So there smile paves the way
and sand drips with waves
And clouds my head
because I'm a fortune tellers bed.
And I am the tune's played by the goons
who ride to fairies wombs
And stole the rode the other way
And sold tomorrow to yesterday.
And I know the feeling of pushing you
out of a building
Tiny people pulsating hit the sky
You hit the ground got up and wiped your face
You expected to fly.
Wind up your misfortunes and sling 'em
to a Maitre D'
Who wears dead butterflys on his face
and is hoping to grow wings
He really wants to tell you
"Hey, Give your tears today."
Grind your souvenirs into your stolen years
Hands in your pockets your hands getting numb
in an urban grind slide.
Do the avenues that seem to meet defeat you?
Have you ever tried to hug the sky behind your head?
I walked forever sight-seeing the screen
shuffled a mean
green
ping
dive
Head first into a hole full of water
dragged round and round like floating machine.
Dove dancing to a fable told in a sea of disintegration
Crawled to a celebration of dirt and leaves that taste like wine
Sucked from a hair that digs into the darkness
Full of the fare that my head rides.
I slide your kind through a ladder
hanging on a star, stray close so far
away from the climb.
A taped line section of introspection
to rewind would be to recline.
Hit the pounds underling
and gently ride on the slide.
Tell your problems to Zero
He's got nothing to hide.
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