John Frusciante

Possibly the most fucked-up record ever issued by a major label, ex-Red Hot Chili Peppers guitarist John Frusciante's home-recorded solo debut is not for the squeamish. Unspeakably sloppy but often genuinely moving, it's full of tortured beauty: the sound of a man scraping away at his own mind's breaking point, letting both his id and his imagination run loose. Hence, for instance, a lyrical, Hendrix-inspired tune called "Your Pussy's Glued to a Building on Fire." Appreciating Niandra's splattered resplendence also requires a certain tolerance for Frusciante's singing voice -- think Robert Plant with splinters under his toenails.

The followup, Smile From the Streets You Hold, has a couple of moments of scary sublimity, especially "A Fall Thru the Ground" (as well as several collaborations with Frusciante's late friend, actor River Phoenix), but it's mostly agonizing to listen to -- haphazardly dumped onto tape at the nadir of Frusciante's heroin addiction, it sounds like he's singing through convulsions and shattered teeth.

Subsequently, he cleaned up, rejoined the Chili Peppers, and made To Record Only Water for Ten Days, whose almost normal verses, choruses, and drum machines make it sound like a set of almost bland sketches for RHCP ballads. Shadows Collide with People is a bit looser and weirder, featuring a couple of lovely, noisy instrumentals. Frusciante's lyrics seem to wander away every few words ("Sending a dummy to my God/Driving to eat a Carvel cake/Somewhere you know isn't where you think"), and he wins no prize for musical focus, either, but he does sound like he's having fun for a change. (DOUGLAS WOLK)

From 2004's The New Rolling Stone Album Guide