Music has the ability to capture and convey many emotions, whether they are anger, angst, frustration, happiness, despair, or any number of others. All good music does this by painting pictures and weaving words, taking the listener on his or her own personal journey: to the top of a mountain or into the pits of Hell; receding into a quiet corner, on the town, or perhaps through a field of flowers. It is however, a special thing when a musician creates an album which does all of this and more. John Frusciante’s 10th solo album, titled “The Empyrean,” is that album. If you’re looking for that journey, look no further.
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Frusciante’s solo career began in 1994, when Frusciante released “Niandra Lades and Usually Just a T-Shirt” after recording the album while strung out on heroin. Since then, Frusciante has battled his demons and is now completely clean, but “The Empyrean” speaks to both sides of Frusciante’s own journey. It’s a record of personal and spiritual expression, good and bad times.
But while Frusciante has led the rock-star lifestyle, “Emyprean” is not a rock album-far from it. With cryptic lyrics and distortion effects on guitars, drums, keys, and strings alike, Frusciante’s sound is moody, psychedelic folk blending electronic and instrument into soundscapes that can be mind-altering or familiar, but never without a bit of experimentation-an interesting time signature here, a vocoder there.
The ambient textures of “Before the Beginning” set the tone for the record, as Frusciante screams soulfully over echoed drum and keys with an effected-out guitar line that reminds one of Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour, using minor chords and piercing high notes to weave a wailing way through the track. The tempo is slow and sincere.
In contrast to this first instrumental track, “Song to the Siren” is a cover of the Tim Buckley song, originally written with poet Larry Beckett in the late 1960s, which showcases Frusciante’s disturbingly talented singing abilities as he narrates a story of temptation, calling to mind themes from Greek and Roman mythology. His voice is dirgeful on this track, honestly human.
“Dark/Light” also starts out slowly and carefully, a sad song over keys and quiet organs, but picks up into a bass line driven pop song, courtesy of Red Hot Chili Peppers band mate Flea, and for the rest of the song the brilliant chemistry between the two musicians takes center stage during a simple chord progression jam. On “Unreachable,” Frusciante and Flea again do some fantastic stuff: as Frusciante builds up into a two minute soaring guitar solo, Flea is right behind him, never missing a beat on the bass. As heavy as “The Empyrean” is on meaning and expression, Frusciante’s musicality can be heard on tracks like these.
“Enough of Me” and “One More of Me” use the same chord progression and similar lyrics to suggest a theme of duality. The former is more optimistic, with lines like “Whatever slips out of our hands / Will find its way back to us once again,” but the latter is dark in comparison, with lyrics like “What’s gone will never come back / But it exists when you think of it / What is anything anyway / But a series of things running through your brain.” Split by the dark, heavy song, “Central,” featuring the Sonus Quartet on strings, these two songs say outright what the rest of the album only hints at: a sense of struggle between good and evil, life and death, heaven and hell, choice and fate, saints and sinners, the forsaken and the redemptive.
Frusciante’s lyrics on “The Empyrean” play with many subtle themes but the repeated allusions to religious images and concepts are clear on the album. The album’s title itself speaks to Greek mythology and Christian literature alike about the highest place in heaven which is occupied by the element of fire, God, or the mind of God. With song titles like “God,” and “Heaven,” the allusion continues. Frusciante’s lyrics on the album are introspective, existential and speak to religious paradox. On “After the Ending,” Frusciante sings “There is nothing after the ending / Everything is eternal / Nothingness does not exist / No thing has ever become nothing.”
John Frusciante is a musician, and it’s painfully obvious on “The Empyrean.” By telling stories that speak to us on a deep spiritual level, it is music for you and me. But, again and again, Frusciante’s solo work is his own: these words are his own personal struggles; this music is his own personal journey. We should just be glad he brought us along for the ride.
–Frosty Fresh
