Often, it seems as if Los Angeles is full of former junkies making wise, rueful music about what they've been through. More often still, it seems as if most of them have, at one time or other, been through the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
John Frusciante is one of those, the guitarist who left in the early '90s and got himself into a fairly grotesque mess - his teeth fell out, amongst other atrocities - before cleaning up and rejoining his former employers in time for their return-to-form 'Californication' album.
As a major player on 1991's 'Blood Sugar Sex Magik', Frusciante helped create the Chilis' funk-rap-rock hybrid that, nowadays, has transformed into nu-metal. Solo albums traditionally avoid the obvious, however; there's little on 'To Record Only Water For Ten Days' that'll energise the average Limp Bizkit fan. Instead, Frusciante's third solo album (and his first since the wilderness years) is a rough but engaging collection of songs even the most dedicated would have trouble moshing to.
The formula here is for Frusciante to carve tunes out of loose, cyclical riffs, a few basic samples and drum programmes and his own parched voice. Sometimes, as on 'Remain', the effect is slightly uncomfortable, the crude beats and pre-programmed squelches suggesting the work of an old muso who's gleefully fallen on some new electronic toys.
Tough that out, and get used to the demo quality throughout, and there are some decent songs on 'To Record Only Water…, endearing for their rawness and honesty. Frusciante has a good, husky voice that sometimes strains to a falsetto, and much here - effects notwithstanding - is reminiscent of Pearl Jam at their most reflective (notably the 'No Code' album). There are also a few moments - 'In Rime' and 'With No One' - that you suspect the Chili Peppers would've loved to get their hands on and blow up into a showstopping ballad like 'Under The Bridge'.
But essentially, this is very much Frusciante's personal trip: the first words on the album, beginning 'Going Inside', are, "You don't throw your life away". It's a theme he keeps coming back to, especially on 'Invisible Movement', where he recalls living "a life when you've rolled over and died." Another one to add to the litany of LA survivors who lived to tell - or sing - the tale.
