In 1985, I scraped the wallpaper clean from four walls of the small library in my family home for the opportunity to buy a Powell Peralta Sword & Skull deck from my local shop, Rip City Skates of Santa Monica CA.
A year after this monumental occasion, the movie Thrashin’ was released. As I had missed the prior wave of skateboard movies due to my young age, the film made an impact on me in many ways–as campy as it seems now–with a theme song sung by Meatloaf and the star role filled by current Hollywood fave and actor-du-jour Josh Brolin.
But it also introduced me to what is now a Los Angeles institution, The Red Hot Chili Peppers. Please enjoy said moment of clarity:
I became an immediate RHCP fan, purchasing both of their existing albums from my local MusicPlus, and remained such until they exploded onto the world stage with Blood Sugar Sex Magik.
Recently I found an old friend of mine on Facebook. His name is Tom Fruin, whom I knew from biology class back in the day. In 1989, we attended the RHCP concert at the Greek Theater, along with another lost pal from my French class named Peter Lai. Having neither car nor license, we took $50 cab rides to and from, a practice we later repeated to see The Vandals, Dead Milkmen, and Firehose at the Roxy.
Finding Mr Fruin reminded me of how much I used to love RHCP; I unearthed my copy of Mother’s Milk.
Is this lamenting part of the aging process or the fact that I am both encouraged and obligated to play inferior songs on a nightly basis? I find myself in a disheartened place.