The Beat September 2002

KOREAFORNICATION
(Red Hot Chili Peppers & Jane's Addiction w/ Crying Nut & Lazy Bones at Jamshil Stadium, Seoul, July 26, 2002)
Story: M.R. Bradie
Photos: Dan Armstrong

That fabulous Friday began with a sick call to work and the five-hour Saemaeul train from Busan to Seoul. After arriving, I hooked up with camera man Dan and we headed to Jamshil stadium on the East side of Seoul for the show, a 6pm early starter.

We arrived to find a large mob of Korean and foreigner youngsters swarming around LG 25 and KFC, scarfing chicken and beer en masse before the show. The atmosphere was festive; everybody was happy and ready for a four-band outdoor rock-out on this glorious summer day. At one point, it threatened to rain with slight sprinkles for about fifteen minutes, after which we were blessed with a full-on vibrant rainbow arcing through the gray Seoul City Sky from one horizon to the other. A portrait of opposites harmonizing.

Dan and I decided that W 69,000 a pop was too much to willingly fork over, so with the help of my trusty international Press Association pass, purchased for a mere $2 (US) on Bangkok's Khaosan Road and highly recommended, we got our Korean little sister Remi to present us as a Journalist and Photographer from Spin Magazine to one of the nearby stadium workers. He immediately referred us to his boss, who was absolutely friendly and said, " Oh, magazine ... come with me" and walked us around the back of the stadium, past the equipment trucks and tour buses, to the rear gate behind the stage. There we were given complementary all-access wristbands along with two cute young Korean groupies who looked to be part of one of the band's comfort teams.

We giggled and flowed into the concert park where the show was underway. As I looked to the stage, I was chagrined to see the lead singer of Lazy Bones, dancing around butt-naked and waving his ding-a-ling around in a circular motion.
We were disappointed to find out that there was no beer being sold, never mind doobs to blow. I was a little worried about how I would be able to loosen up before the meat of the show was served, but I realized that I would be happy enough to see these familiar American bands who I loved all throughout middle and high school.

Then Crying Nut came on and absolutely rocked the people as usual with their bizarre mix of pop-punk and weirdo accordion driven Russian polka sound.

After Crying Nut was through, the photographer and I made a run back to the LG 25 for some beer, but rushed back as not to miss the beginning of Jane's Addiction, who for me was the biggest draw of this show and a band I'd always wanted to see but somehow missed.
We returned and the band began to take the stage. I have to confess that I didn't expect much from this middle-aged band who put out only three full-length albums over ten years ago. I was the skeptic, yet still transfixed as my teenage idols came out on stage. Stephen Perkins on drums looking as cheerful as ever, Dave Navarro, tattoo blued like a generic Tupac on guitar, Porno 4 Pyro's Martin LeNoble taking over for the hopelessly heroin-addicted Eric Avery on bass, and of course the irrepressibly flamboyant Perry Ferrell wearing a tight white leisure suit and a feathery Vegas showgirl hat on the microphone.

At once, they flew into a thunderous version of Whores, one of my personal favorites, as their opener. Then they played Been Caught Stealing, Stop, Ain't No Right, a short version of Three Days, a long version of Summertime Rolls, a couple new songs that I didn't know, Lexicon Devil, a brain-searing version of Mountain Song, and finally ended with an acoustic version of Jane Says.
All I can say was that it cooked…it smoked…it rocked and rolled…blood rained down from the sky…grown men wept…the heavens parted... They didn't play Pigs in Zen, but I was so happy that I forgave them. After they'd finished Ain't No Right, Perry took a moment and addressed the crowd, clutching his obligatory bottle of red wine he looked out at us and said in his effeminate Cali accent, "Annyong Haseyo. I'm wondering if any of you know how to have sex. Do you know how to have sex?"

The crowd responded with a wimpy little “Yeah!” Sounding unsure, he said, "Are you sure you know how to have sex? I hope you're having sex!" and the crowd responded with a bigger ' Yeah!‘

“Okay,” said Perry, “I think you know how to have sex. Now we're gonna have some sex, because we love you Seoul!" and at that, LeNoble dropped in with the super-sexy bass line to Three Days: 'Three days was the morning/three lovers in three ways.”
After Jane's Addiction strode proudly off the stage, the ecstatic crowd subsided for a few moments before gathering up an even larger crush towards the front for the beginning of the Red Hot Chili Peppers journey into the heart of funk. The main attraction, straight from the city of Angels, the purveyors of true punktified funk for the last fifteen years, the Red Hot Chili Peppers in their absolute glory.
Once again I was skeptical. I'd hated all the mushy ballads they'd been releasing since Under the Bridge shot up the charts. It seemed that guys who were so old would never be able to recreate the glory of their prime.

Once again, I was absolutely wrong! Never before have I seen such a display of uncontrollable energy transformed into music! Chad Smith rock-steady on the gorilla testicle drums. Flea, an absolute master on the bass. Anthony Keidis the consummate front man, always on cue, always right on time. And my personal favorite, the recently returned John Frusciante, a true modern-day guitar legend; I swear I saw the ghost of Jimi Hendrix floating over his head.

Even their mush ballads were tight and funked up and great! And best of all they ended with Me and My Friends, a fully freakified track from their early album Uplift Mofo Party Plan. They are truly the greatest friends of funk-rock; a band that has stuck together through death, addiction, high and low times, and still they played together in a state of transcendent joy, which they effortlessly transfer to the audience in an act that seems more like a miracle than a rock show.
It was mind-blowing and just desserts for the faithful. I saw somebody's toupee get blown off their head from the renegade soundwaves pulsing from the amplifiers. I saw the tattoos melt off a guy's skin from the soul-beams shooting out from the stage! Who could ask for more?