Fuck anonymity

The Red Hot Chili Peppers--sober and still wild

Hello friends and readers. I hope the Fall season is beginning to show where you live. Here in Central Texas we call October our second summer—mid 90s and all sunshine all the time. Welcome to those of you that joined Of a Sober Mind during the month of September. I tried to keep the spirit of National Recovery Month alive, and if you came on board then I appreciate you. I hope my musings and stories will keep you around.

This week I’m combining my love of music with my love of all things sober. Enjoy.

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I first read the Anthony Kiedis 2004 biography “Scar Tissue” when I was about a year sober. It blew my fucking mind. One of the most compelling aspects of Kiedis’ book was how not anonymous it was—his story was wide open for all to see. I had a hard time leveling that in my own mind after having gotten a steady dose of Alcoholics Anonymous for a year.

At the time I was in the trenches. Comfortable for the time being staying away from alcohol and drugs—but deep in the weeds of my Twelve Step work trying to figure out just what the hell drove to me such excessive behavior in the first place.

Be humble. Be quiet. It’s no one’s business but your own. Make your amends to those you’ve wronged and move on to a different way of living in honesty and humility.

The Red Hot Chili Peppers aren’t my favorite band—but they def crack the top 10.

Who else writes lyrics like this to an ass-dropping bass beat?

I've got a mellowship, I've got a fellowship
I've got a nonstop "yo swan" hello chip
Born to adore the big bad bison
Thunderstorm and a man like Tyson
Popcorn peanuts lookin' at big butts
No, I can not keep my mouth shut

Here’s this guy, one of the most famous rock stars on the planet, unraveling his nearly unbelievable and wild-ass partying stories to the world. How could little ole me—still struggling to break free from my own sense of grandiosity—have anything in common with this guy? We are instructed to seek commonalities rather than the differences, but what could I gain from reading Kiedis’ book?

He grew up in the Midwest then loved to California when he was 12. I grew up in California and moved to the Midwest when I was 12. He had divorced parents and a struggling actor/drug dealer for a dad. My parents were solidly-married—still are—and my dad was a corporate executive.

Kiedis achieved life-changing fame and fortune at a young age but could not fill the hole in his soul. He tried to fill it with enough drugs and alcohol but could not.

And yet. And yet. I could walk into a circle of chairs in a church basement anywhere in the world and he’d be Anthony K, alcoholic. I’d be Dee R, alcoholic. And we’d rap.

One experience I have tucked in my recovery pocket is that I had spent a lot of my business career with famous athletes—partied with them. I’d had a few brushes with famous musicians. During my 93-day stint getting well at the Betty Ford Center, there were more than a couple limousines pulling in for family week. So what? It was that kind of place. Anonymity reigned mighty. Shhh. One neighbor and sober friend during that time was/is one of a handful of guys on the planet who could legitimately be called a bigger rock star than Kiedis. I only bring this to my story here to serve a point. I knew in my heart, and learned from my experience, that these were flawed individuals just like me. Fighting and occasionally winning against demons that were actively trying to kill them. In fact—by comparison—I had it wayyyy easier not having to face the gigantic and death-defying ride that is fame.

The intersection of celebrity and sobriety has changed—even in the nearly fifteen years since I set down the cup. Sober is cool. People with influence and fame that walk the sober path can do it quietly—or they can use their platform to help others. Social media and podcasts have opened up more channels for sobers to tell their tale beyond the usual crash and burn quit lit memoir. You could fill up the Hollywood Bowl with sober celebrities who have openly talked about their journeys. Samuel Jackson, Bradley Cooper, Rob Lowe, Blake Lively, Anthony Hopkins, Jamie Lee Curtis, Russell Brand, Brad Pitt, and so on and on. In music the list is equally long. Eminem, Alice Cooper, Keith Urban, Joe Walsh, Stevie Nicks, Elton John, Steven Tyler, Ed Sheeran, Pink, Jason Isbell, Lana Del Rey, and so on and on.

Along with the 12 Steps of AA, there are also Traditions and Principles. Among the Traditions is #11: Our public relations policy is based on attraction rather than promotion; we need always maintain personal anonymity at the level of press, radio, and films.

Oh well. So much for that one. AA was founded in a different time and place—1935. I personally believe that speaking publicly about the malady saves lives. I’m literally violating an AA tradition by writing about sobriety, talking about it on my weekly radio show, and using my full name. I won’t talk about someone else from the program without their permission—but I find generally that in today’s world—people are proud of their sobriety and want to talk about it publicly.

Critics of 12 step recovery and AA abound. I’ve never quite understood it—tearing down the simplicity of it—or the spiritual elements of it. Many misguided attacks disparage the God-reliance.

Those of us who are among the tens of millions—maybe more—who have felt and witnessed the lifesaving power of this fellowship—really can’t be bothered with the chirping. Fuck ‘em. It works if you work it. If it didn’t work for you—you likely got other issues.

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Back to those wild dirty sober boys—the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

Producer Brian Grazer (Apollo 13, A Beautiful Mind, Splash, Backdraft, 8-Mile) just announced that shooting will begin in the Atlanta area in early 2025 for the film version of Scar Tissue. Grazer was the co-founder of Imagine Entertainment with Ron Howard, a veteran of the LA scene and all that entails, and no doubt close friends and allies with Kiedis—with whom he’ll co-produce Scar Tissue. I haven’t heard how they’ll cast it—but it’s an entertaining tale and likely worth a watch.

What is it about the Red Hot Chili Peppers that has made them a sustainable and bankable sound across four decades? How is it possible that this group of skanky high school heroin addicts that built their cred on pogo dancing and stage-smashing has become the USOC’s musical ambassadors for the 2028 Olympics in LA?

Sobriety and committed Recovery. There—I said it.

Early failure, death, and destruction has evolved into over 120,000 million records sold, 15 number one singles, 28 top ten singles, and a record-setting 91 weeks at number one. 3 Grammys, a Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame induction, and a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

The rock star lifestyle is notoriously toxic and death-defying. A lot of bands begin. Many don’t make it. Many have multiple iterations, breakups, turnover of members. My all-time favorite, Steely Dan is essentially now just one guy—Donald Fagen—following Walter Becker’s premature death, despite by all accounts having gotten free of his long-time heroin addiction.

The RHCP has been essentially the same four guys since 1988 with a couple of hiccups: Kiedis, Flea, Chad Smith, and John Frusciante. The chaotic early years were not kind to the Peppers. Co-founder Hillel Slovak died of a drug overdose in June 1988. As Kiedis outlines in Scar Tissue, it is an unexplainable miracle that I survived what Hillel could not. Original member Jack Irons left the band during this drug-fueled period when Kiedis would simply disappear for days and weeks at a time during a scheduled recording session. Their first two albums in the mid-eighties barely made impacts despite having the backing of Parliament Funk’s George Clinton as producer, and the backing of Gang of Four’s Andy Gill. Producer and savant Rick Rubin—fresh off his success with The Beastie Boys—was asked to take over the third album. He turned the band down, citing dangerous energy and rampant drug use.

In late 1988, the current four members of the Red Hot Chili Peppers gathered to record Mother’s Milk—their 4th album. Kiedis had entered drug rehab following Slovak’s death. Mother’s Milk charted near the top 50 in the US and shipped 500,000 copies making it a certified gold album.

Riding the wave of success from Mother’s Milk, the RHCP were able to woo back Rick Rubin as their producer in 1990—and in ‘91 released their first worldwide hit: Blood Sugar Sex Magik—complete with two number one hits; Give it Away and Under the Bridge.

Under the Bridge in particular drop-kicked the band into stardom. With a Gus Van Sant-directed music video and soulful, biographical lyrics that Rubin had found in one of Kiedis’ notebooks, the song told a sad story to a typically thumping RHCP beat.

The band was not done dancing with the devil.

As Kiedis outlines in Scar Tissue, his friend and guitarist John Frusciante developed a heroin addiction—secret only to those that didn’t know the signs. Kiedis called him to the mat and tried to get him help, but Frusciante abruptly quit the band while on tour and disappeared into a long bender. The band brought in guitarist Dave Navarro—an old friend from Jane’s Addiction—who was struggling with his own public drug problems. The details can all be found and aren’t worth the retelling here, but the band was struggling to find its chemistry again—Kiedis had relapsed after a dental surgery and pain killers. Navarro wasn’t feeling the funk. The band toured playing off the success of their big release—hitting Lollapalooza and other major festivals and cementing their wild live show reputation with fans. But with no solid guitar player—the band was floundering on the edge of breakup.

Flea was able to find their old buddy John Frusciante on the street in early 1998—escorted and convinced him to finally enter rehab—and remarkably it took. Frusciante was the worse for wear physically but after a few months clean and sober the band wanted him back—with conditions. The entire band had conditions. It was during this period that sobriety truly set in for the band, and in June 1999 they released their seventh album—Californication. 16 million copies later it remains their most successful album.

In years since the band members have engaged in solo careers, added members for special projects, taken extended breaks from creating music to dabble in acting and movies, and explored other entertainment channels. What has remained a constant for all four members Kiedis, Flea, Frusciante, and Smith, is their commitment to a life of sobriety.

Spectacular crash and burn stories are as common as wannabes in music and entertainment. Even warm-blooded music fans can recite the members of the infamous 27 Club. The big four of Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and Jim Morrison all died at the age of 27 between 1969 and 1971. But really it wasn’t until a contemporary and peer of the Chili Peppers—Kurt Cobain—committed suicide in 1994 at the age of 27—that the 27 Club became part of the zeitgeist.

Crash and burn stories are common in recovery as well. The odds are good and the goods are odd.

Fame and celebrity has its toxic place in our culture. Those that get sucked over the rainbow and attempt to live in that pot at the end have mixed results. One thing about recovery that I’ve always respected and felt welcome in is the community. There’s no hierarchy—although some may claim moral superiority with more time sober—that’s just their stupid ego talking. I’ve sat in rooms with famous authors, rock stars, movie stars, moms and dads, grandparents, plumbers, developers and homeless, students and teachers, those that couldn’t speak the language, and all in between.

You know come to think of it, I haven’t seen a lot of politicians in the rooms—hmm. Must be something repellant about the honesty thing.

I loved reading Scar Tissue in 2010—early in my sober journey. But I love re-reading it even more now with the context of my sobriety and Anthony K’s.

If you didn’t see it, his interview with Joe Rogan gave some depth to the dude, his lifestyle, and his commitment to recovery. Check it out.