Red Hot Chili Peppers
– By the Way
The Red Hot Chili Peppers were no longer the bratty funk-punks of their Mother’s Milk days, nor the introspective funk-poets of Californication. By the Way is where they stopped chasing themselves and just stood still long enough to catch a breath—and in that moment, they made something strangely beautiful. The album’s strength lies in its restraint. Flea, once the hyperactive engine, often steps back to let John Frusciante build sonic cathedrals with layered guitar harmonies and vocal arrangements that seem to drift in from some L.A. dreamscape.
Best of…
Frusciante dominates here, not with flash, but with texture. His guitar work doesn’t always pop—it floats, swirls, and sometimes just hums in the background like a forgotten radio. Anthony Kiedis, usually the weak link or the wildcard depending on your tolerance, tones down the rap-jock theatrics in favor of actual melodies. There’s still the occasional nonsense lyric, but there’s also heart—and more importantly, there’s vulnerability without the self-pity.
If you’re waiting for the funk-rock blowouts of old, you’re going to feel a little ghosted. But if you’re ready for a band leaning into their maturity without selling off their soul, this one hits different. By the Way isn’t about high energy—it’s about long shadows, golden light, and the slow burn of growing up in Southern California without losing your edge.
Choice Tracks
By the Way
A bait-and-switch classic. It kicks off like a lost punk anthem, then slides into harmony-drenched verses that sound like The Beach Boys after a bong hit. The chorus is sticky, the tempo changes are tight, and it sets the album’s tone: layered, unpredictable, and catchy without trying too hard.
The Zephyr Song
Dreamy, airy, and weirdly innocent. The Peppers rarely sound this gentle, and it suits them. Frusciante’s guitar rings like wind chimes while Kiedis croons about flight, love, or something in between. You don’t need to decode it—just float with it.
Can’t Stop
The closest the album gets to vintage Chili Peppers swagger. Flea finally cuts loose with a stutter-step bass groove, Kiedis gets to rapid-fire nonsense again, and the chorus is a full-on shout-along. It’s fun, sharp, and offers some necessary grit.
Dosed
One of the band’s most surprisingly emotional songs. Multiple overlapping guitar parts, a singalong melody soaked in melancholy, and Kiedis sounding, well, human. Frusciante’s backing vocals elevate it from good to devastating.
Universally Speaking
Underrated and unapologetically sweet. There’s a kind of naïve optimism here, a pop sensibility that feels effortless. A track that could’ve felt cloying instead lands as genuine, in large part thanks to its breezy arrangement and warm production.
By the Way is the sound of a band settling into its skin—not resting, but breathing. Less slap, more soul. Less freakout, more feeling. The funk is still in there, but it’s buried under melodies, melancholy, and a new kind of California cool.