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Terry Gross
This is FRESH air. I'm Terry Gross. My guest Flea co founded the multiple Grammy winning band, the Red Hot chili peppers, in 1982. He's a songwriter and the band's bass player, known for his fast, percussive grooves. They started as an LA punk rock band when LA and New York were the punk capitals. Their lead singer initially rapped more than he sang. Flea has just released his first solo album called Honora, and it's a big departure. Various styles of jazz figure into it. Flea's stepfather was a jazz musician and listening to his music starting when Flea was seven, changed Flea's life in ways he's still grateful for. But Flea's stepfather was also addicted to heroin and alcohol, and that made home life unpredictable and some dangerous, leaving Flea afraid to go home. He spent as much time as he could on the streets and with friends, often doing things that could have had serious consequences on the new album. In addition to bass, Flea plays trumpet, the first instrument he learned to play. The album also reflects how Flea started studying music theory about 10 years ago. Honora includes original compositions by Flea as well as covers of songs by George Clinton and Frank Ocean. Thom York of Radiohead sings on one track, Nick Cave sings Wichita Lineman. The arrangements feature strings, brass and woodwinds. When I recorded this interview with Flea last week, we talked about his childhood, his relationship with his stepfather, the Chili Peppers being wild, and how Flea and his music have changed. He wrote a memoir in 2019 titled Acid for the Children. Flea, welcome to FRESH AIR. Congratulations on the new album. So let's get to your music. I want to compare where you started from in terms of your recordings and where you are now. So let's start by listening to a brief part of the Red Hot Chili Peppers first demo record.
Flea
Wow, cool.
Terry Gross
And this is Nevermind. You're of course featured on bass.
Flea
Never mind a Pac jam. Oh, never mind a Gap band. Nobody's happen on the foot scale. Wow, Terry, good call on that one.
Terry Gross
Okay, well let's compare that to Frailed from your new album, Honora. Okay with you featured on trumpet and bass?
Flea
Yeah.
Terry Gross
Okay. So what do you think the 20 year old you would have thought of the music from your new album?
Flea
I would have been really happy with myself making music that I cared about, being a student of music, continuing to Just love music. And when I listen back to, you know, net, the song Nevermind that you played for my first demo tape, and the feeling that I had making it, and the feeling that I had when it, you know, we went around with that tape, playing it for people with our cassette tape, trying to get booked into clubs, to get gigs. It's a similar feeling that I have now with the record that I just made, Honora. It's a feeling that I haven't really had since back then. And it's a feeling of I've made this music that is really. I mean, obviously it's a collective. You know, the Chili Peppers made the music, but we made music. And I had a feeling that we are filling this place, an empty place in the world that hasn't been filled before. We've created this thing that is ourselves purely, so it can't be anybody else. And we're filling this new place. And it's a really. A beautiful feeling. And that's how I feel about the music that I've made with Honora. It's the same thing. Like, I feel like I'm making music that occupies its own place in the world, and that feels good to me.
Terry Gross
Does the change in music represent a change in you? You're older, you're not in your 20s, you're in your 60s.
Flea
Yep. Constantly. Yeah. I mean, of course, even though back then, you know, when I made that music when I was 20. I think I was 20 years old when we recorded that, 19 or 20, I was listening to, you know, ethereal jazz music all the time. I grew up with jazz music, and I was listening to jazz music back then. But of course, I've changed, and thank God I've changed. I was a lunatic. You know what I mean?
Terry Gross
Yeah, I know what you mean.
Flea
Yeah. I mean, I was a street kid, and I was emotionally and in so many ways, 19, going on 10, you know, and I continue to try to grow as a human being in all the ways, you know, emotionally, spiritually, to be more considerate of my fellow human beings. I mean, in every way. So it all feeds into the music, and it all feeds into the way that I interact with other people. And, yeah, I mean, I'm a different person. And, you know, I think this is something I think about a lot in a way that just, like, as a parent, you know, I have three kids. One's 37, the other one is 20, and the other one is three. And I've been a different person for each one of them. You know, I've been a different kind of parent.
Terry Gross
Oh, right. In a different stage of your life. Because their years are far apart.
Flea
Yeah. Super. They're all 17 years apart. And 17 years. If one is willing to feel the pain and suffering of being a human being, you're gonna grow. So I'm grateful for growth and I'm grateful for humility, and I'm grateful to be a student.
Terry Gross
So I wanna play some more music from your new album, Honora. And this is called Morning Cry. And it's the track that's like most obviously jazz. You know, it's not like, influenced by jazz. It's not jazz and funk or jazz and something. It's just jazz. And it sounds to me, Tell me if I'm wrong, very influenced by Ornette Coleman.
Flea
Very much so, yeah. And I, you know, I've had the. The great fortune to play with Ornette Coleman on a number of occasions. And he was very kind to me and I've admired him since I was a very young man. You know, you think like, you know, when we started with Chili Peppers, I listen. We were listening to Arnett constantly. And I still, you know, play whenever I get the chance with his son, dinardo, who's you know, very welcoming and, you know, to me.
Terry Gross
Do you want to say anything by way of introduction of the song and how you wrote it?
Flea
Sure, yeah. Because it's actually something I remember quite clearly is waking up one morning and feeling an abundance of sadness and being moved to tears by circumstances in my life. And at the same time I lying there and I was just like crying. And at the same time I was lying, you know, in that kind of ethereal state when you wake up kind of in between being asleep and being awake. And I was to myself, you know, And I was just singing that to myself and also feeling. And it's funny cause it's not really a sad sounding melody.
Terry Gross
Not at all. It's so energetic.
Flea
But it's what, you know, there's the strange workings of my mind. I don't know. But it was. Yeah, right in the morning. Just woke up and was doing it. And that felt really. It felt nice. And, you know, I went into my music, got up, went to my music room and scratched it down on a piece of paper. And there it was.
Terry Gross
Okay, so let's hear Morning Cry from Flea's new album, Honora. That was Morning Cry from Flea's new album. We need to take a short break here. So my guest is Flea of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. But after recording, I don't know, around 14 albums with the Chili Peppers. This is his first solo album. We'll be right back. This is FRESH air.
Flea
Every day, NPR reports stories that keep you informed without fear or favor. That's the promise of a free press in a democracy. It's in the First Amendment. I'm Tom Bowman, and I cover the Pentagon for npr. Stand up for independent news coverage today by donating early for public media giving days coming up on May 1st and 2nd. Give now at donate.npr.org you started playing
Terry Gross
trumpet as a child, and then you kind of gave up trumpet more or less for the base after the Red Hot Chili Peppers formed. Your stepfather was a jazz musician and he played bass. Tell us about the music that he played. I know it was jazz, but what kind of jazz? What's some of the music that your father and his friends introduced you to?
Flea
Straight ahead, Jazz, bebop, the music exemplified by Charlie Parker and Fats Navarro and Thelonious Monk. They play jazz like that. And my stepfather came into my life when I was about 7 years old, 6 or 7. And the first time that I ever saw him play with his friends in New York, his buddies came over to the house, set up in the living room, and they started throwing down. They played fast, they played furiously. They played with great tenderness. They played with great violence and physicality. And it was wild.
Terry Gross
And as a you describe it like it was punk rock.
Flea
Well, I you know, for me, you know, all music is music, but it's, you know, there's a so if I think of punk rock, right, like you take a song like Nervous Breakdown by Black Flag and it goes, I'm about to have a nervous breakdown. My head really hurts, you know. And it's a beautiful song. I love it. And then you take a song like Cherokee, best played by Clifford Brown and Max Roach, and like the bass is going, And they're both very fast, very aggressive. They both have a beginning, a middle and an end. And they are both played by people yearning with every fiber of their being to make sense of the world that they live in. But, you know, I love both and I'm studying. But anyway, so yes, when I was a kid and I heard them playing that jazz, it just blew my mind and changed my life forever.
Terry Gross
So you were born in Australia and lived there for the first four or five years of your life. When you were around four, your family moved to New York, where your father got a job. And he sounds like he was a very briefcase, follow the rules, working man, Denver the same time every Night kind of guy, except for when he drank. And he loved you, but he also gave you the belt when you stepped out of line. They divorced when you were 7, and your mother wanted to live a more bohemian life, so she married your stepfather, the jazz bass player, Walter Urban Jr. Yep. And what was he like as a man? You describe him as sad, and he was also addicted to heroin, and he was very moody. Can you describe what it was like for you as a child to grow up with somebody whose music you loved, who introduced you to great people and great sounds, but who also could be, like, a scary person? He could be an irresponsible person and an inattentive parent?
Flea
It was difficult. I. You know, when my mother and. Walter. His name. Yeah, Walter. When they got together, it was really exciting at first because, you know, my dad was very much by the rules, and every day was kind of the same, and there were these strict codes of conduct that you did not break or you got the belt. You know what I mean? You didn't mess up. You never embarrassed yourself. You never embarrassed the family. You did. You played by the rules. And my dad was like, a very, like, kind of prototypical 50s, responsible man. You know, you work hard, you wear your suit, and you get drunk at night. And my father was an alcoholic all of his life. But Walter, it was really fun. He was playing jazz music, you know, he dressed like a hippie, he wore dashikis, and he was, like, cool, man. Far out. Yeah. Dig this Cannonball Adderly record, you know, And. And it was really exciting for me as a kid. And also, like, the rules went away. Like, all of a sudden, I would get up in the morning, go out in the street. No one asked where I was going. I went and did whatever I wanted all day long. So there's freedom in that, but also a lot of troubles in that because you're getting in trouble because there's no rules. And you kind of left to figure things out on your own. But it turned ugly with my stepfather. He was a drug abuser. He was an addict. He was an alcoholic. And he was prone to these wild fits of violence where something would set him off and he would just, like, start destroying the house, smashing all the windows, breaking everything, Everyone, like, begging him to stop. You know, kids being. We were terrified. We ran out in the street, you know, and it grew violent. And his violence extended to, you know, to us. Even though he never hit me or beat me. But it got bad with my mother and, you know, and with my sister, and he beat both of them. He did. He did.
Terry Gross
Did you feel like you were supposed to be responsible and stop him? I'm not saying you should have been responsible.
Flea
That's a good question. But I don't remember really feeling that way. I mean, I think I would have done anything to stop him, But I remember just being, you know, scared. And I remember thinking that I wanted to try to do my best, but my best was always, like, when he would stop to try to create this feeling of levity and love and trying to bring joy to the house. You know what I mean by, like, being cute and funny or whatever I could do to try and make it better.
Terry Gross
Kind of like a performance.
Flea
Yeah. And I've often wondered, you know, choosing a life as an entertainer that I, you know, that there's sort of this dichotomy between the two things. Like, in a really healthy way, I love the art form. I pursue the art form. I want to, like, be great at it, lose myself in the beauty of this thing and use it as a bridge to touch people's hearts, to make the world a better place. And that's, like, the healthy part. But then there's this other part that is unhealthy. That is that same thing I did when I was a little kid. It was like, love me, please. You know what I mean? And I think that that. And this is actually kind of, you know, tying that together right now, thinking about it. That all goes together, you know? And so that was difficult with my stepfather, and I. You know, he was a very complicated man. He introduced me to music. But, you know, there were many times when it was scary to be in the house. I would sleep in the backyard. I would. You know, I remember coming home and it would be like, there'd be cops in the yard with their guns drawn.
Terry Gross
Were the neighbors complaining? Did your mother call them?
Flea
Yeah. I mean, yeah, it was a big neighborhood embarrassment. You know, it was like the crazy guy. You know, the crazy guy that lives on the street. I remember being out Halloween trick or treating and seeing, you know, being a few blocks away and going, you know, my costume, like, going to knock on someone's door to ask for candy and seeing all the kids, like, running home, and they're like, there's a crazy guy shooting guns out of the window. You know, everyone's going home. Like kids I knew from my school and like, oh, I'm gonna go home, too, if there's a crazy guy shooting guns and running home. And it was. My stepdad was the crazy guy shooting the guns. You Know, and, you know. And that's kind of horrifying. Yeah, absolutely horrifying.
Terry Gross
And were you afraid to be at home with him with a gun, if that's what he was doing?
Flea
Of course it was, you know, a lot to deal with as a kid. But it's. You know, it all shaped me, and it's all a part of who I am. And at the same time, and this could not be understated, is that when I saw my stepfather played music and I didn't really understand it at the time, even though I understood it in a way that's been a part of me my whole life, is that when I saw him play the bass, he played with such aggressiveness and with such intensity that it was. I would see him get into this sort of animal state beyond thought, like this primal, just attacking this instrument, one with it. Sweating, breathing, grunting, you know, playing this instrument, like, completely gone in the music. And I knew that he was using all that pain and anger and fear and anxiety that had made him act like he did, using it in a really healthy way and turning it into something beautiful. Transmuting all this pain and anger into something beautiful. This, like, metamorphosis, this alchemy, which is music's greatest gift for him and for all of us who have enjoyed so much music that is made by people expressing their pain and fear and hope. You know, in sound, is there, like,
Terry Gross
a particular track that stands out to you from your own work, either from the new album or from the Red Hot Chili Peppers, where you feel like you did the same thing, where you took, like, pain that you were feeling and turned it into beauty? Whether it's like, beauty expressing anger or frustration, sadness, is there anything that really expresses that the most in your mind from your own music?
Flea
When we recorded the track, when I played the trumpet for the track Willow Weep For Me, I remember feeling a great deal of sadness. And when I played that song, I remember feeling that, like, let me please, you know, let me let go of this and express it into something beautiful. But I don't. You know, it's always a thing with me. Like, I mean, for the Chili Pepper shows for the last 45 years, it's like, I can't tell you how many zillions of time I get in and I'm, like, attacking my instrument and letting the rhythm throw me around like a rag doll on the stage. That I'm hoping for healing and hoping for letting go of pain and anger and fear.
Terry Gross
So I want to play another track from your new album. And this is a song. I was very surprised that you recorded it. It's Wichita Lineman, which Glenn Campbell had the hit of written by God, I'm blanking on his name.
Flea
Jimmy Webb.
Terry Gross
Jimmy Webb, yeah. And I'll be honest about two things. I've never particularly liked this song, even though, like, every songwriter loves this song. And I always want an say, like, tell me why. And also, the first time I heard it, I thought, wow, this is just lugubrious. This is weird. Who's singing? And I thought, who's singing? I haven't heard Fleece sing, but he sounds so much old. It sounds like not his voice and so much older than he would be. And then when I found out that it was Nick Cave singing, I listened again and thought, oh, I actually really like it. And then it made me question myself, like, oh, are you liking it because you like Nick Cave? And it's like a brand name to you, too. Do you know what I mean? And I realized, no, I'm liking it because I know how to listen to Nick Cave. I know what's behind that voice. I know why it sounds how it does.
Flea
Because Nick is so good at a narrative. Do you think it's because of that, like, he's so color.
Terry Gross
It's the mood and it's the mood and just the. When you know it's him, you know, more about the life he's led, about the aesthetic that he's developed. And also what sounded lugubrious to me initially just started to sound moody in a really interesting way. And I. I think the drummer on this album is great.
Flea
Oh, that's Deonthony Parks. And he's a brilliant, one of a kind drummer.
Terry Gross
So why did you decide to record this song, which I've never liked, but I kind of like it now? And why Nick Cave?
Flea
Well, my reason for recording Wichita Lineman is because I've always loved that song, since the first moment I heard it. The version that I know, strangely enough, is not the Glen Campbell version, but the Meters version. And I'm a big fan of the Meters. And I remember the first ever Chili Pepper tour, which was in 1980, like, first real tour in 1984. And, you know, we're sleeping in a van, driving in van, playing, you know, clubs every place that'll have us all over the country. And, you know, you bring your cassettes. I had, you know, you make all your cassettes at home. And I had one, my Meters cassette, and it had their version of Witchita alignment on it. And I remember just. I Listened to it over and over again, and I didn't. I just love the song. I love everything about it. And, you know, it's something that's always in my head. And then I recalled in my. You know, I'm a big Nick Cave fan, and I've only had a few times that we've spent time together. And the last time that I had, you know, hung out with him and spoken with him, he was speaking about his admiration for Jimmy Webb as just, you know, one of the greatest songwriters to ever live. And I agree with him. And I was listening back to it, and that conversation started playing itself in my mind, and I was like, oh, my God, maybe Nick would want to sing on this. And I sent it to him and he responded, he's in the uk, I'm in la. He responded within a half hour. Said, it's really scary for me to take that on, that that song is so powerful and commands. Demands so much, you know, to do it right. But I'll give it a stab. I'm leaving on tour in two days. I'm gonna go and try to get it done. I think either the next day or the day after. He sent me the tape of it done, and I was just devastated and floored by what he did and will never, ever forget it.
Terry Gross
Okay, so let's hear Wichita Lyman, Nick Cave singing. And this is from Flea's new album, Honora.
Flea
I am alignment for the county. Then I drive the main road Searching in the sun for another overload. I hear singing no wider. I can hear you through wine. And the witch. Is still on. I know I need a small vacation that was Wichita.
Terry Gross
Ty Lyman, you heard Nick Cave singing. It's from Flea's new album, Honora, on which he plays trumpet and bass. Getting back to your stepfather, who was the jazz musician who was addicted to heroin and alcohol. He gave you a lot of freedom. And your mother was a little inattentive. You think that she wasn't really interested in children?
Flea
I think that it was, you know, she was just wrapped up in her own stuff. I mean, there were times when she showed care and interest and in ways that were really significant for me, too. Like, she knew that I loved to read. And it was always like, are you out of books? Do you need books? And we didn't have much money, but there was always money to go to the bookstore and buy new books. And, you know, and that was a huge thing for me. But, you know, most ways from when I was 11 years old, I was a street kid. I was Running wild.
Terry Gross
So what were some of the advantages and disadvantages of having no boundaries, of having, like, complete freedom because your parents weren't setting any rules or boundaries for you, and you did things that could have really gotten you into a lot of trouble, that would have reshaped your life?
Flea
Yeah, I mean, look, from a young age, I was, you know, stealing things from other people, from companies, from stores. I was.
Terry Gross
From your mother?
Flea
Yeah, from. From my mother. Yep. I would sneak into them, you know, her bag still at 5 to 20, you know, whatever she had. I was on drugs. I started getting high when I was 11. I didn't stop doing drugs until I was 30. And so, you know, I was high. And I. You know, it's a lot of. There's a lot of pitfalls out there. There's many times when I was unkind and thoughtless, and there were times when people were very unkind, very thoughtless with me from, you know, other people who I was running around in the street with, who also were not getting good moral guidelines or, you know. You know, and I feel lucky in a lot of ways that I did always feel a desire to be good. I wanted to be good. I wanted to be kind. And I messed up, without doubt, but I was always trying. But there's advantages in that. One, I had to learn how to survive. I'm a survivor. I know how to survive in the street. Two, though I didn't have a strong sense of family at home. And, you know, occasionally we had love and togetherness, but it was pretty. It was fleeting, very fleeting. I looked for family with my friends that I found, like, for instance, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, particularly me and Anthony and Hillel, we found. And Hillel, you know, we all had families. And I guess I can only speak for myself. Like, it would be bad for me to speak for someone else that I really looked for family and the feeling of family with my friends. And in that kind of searching and trying to create a family, we had bonds. And I felt bonds that were very significant, like a blood bond. And so, like, when we started a band, there's this thing there that it's not just musicians playing notes that work together to play songs with rhythms and harmonies that we like. Like, it's this other thing. It's this, like, you can't. With us.
Terry Gross
So you actually have, like, three or at least three separate music spaces in your life when you're coming of age. You've got your father's jazz, which you love. You have the Red Hot Chili Peppers, which starts off as a punk band, kinda.
Flea
Yep.
Terry Gross
And then you have school orchestra and marching band, and that was like a different kind of discipline, probably. And, I mean, you must have been good. You won a national orchestra competition for playing Haydn's trumpet concerto.
Flea
I did.
Terry Gross
That takes some discipline.
Flea
Yeah. And I didn't. You know, I really. You know, if I really would have had discipline, I think I could have gotten a lot better. But it came pretty naturally to me.
Terry Gross
But did you love it? Did you love being in the setting?
Flea
Yeah, that was the thing. I loved it. I loved playing in an orchestra. I loved playing. I played in, you know, the LA Junior Philharmonic for a little while, till one day I got real stoned and went there and made a mistake. And the guy put me out of the first chair into the junior chair, and I was embarrassed and never went back.
Terry Gross
In marching band, did you wear a uniform?
Flea
No, our school didn't have it. Like, all the other schools had, the big epaulets and the big fur hats and all that stuff. And we didn't. We just had T shirts that said Fairfax Band on them. Yep. And we were terrible marchers. We just kind of walked out into a clump in the middle of the field. But we were good, though. We were good. We used to play Sir Duke by Stevie Wonder, Which was Stevie Wonder's tribute to Duke Ellington. And, yeah, we were pretty funky. I remember us being like. I remember feeling excited about the music.
Terry Gross
If you're just joining us, my guest is Flea, co founder of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. After many albums with the Chili Peppers, he's recorded his first solo album, and it's called Honora. We'll be right back. This is Fresh air. Describe what you were like on stage in those early years of the Chili Peppers and how your background in gymnastics, surfing and other sports may have figured into what you were able to do on stage.
Flea
Well, I think from the jump, all
Terry Gross
of us, literally jump.
Flea
Yeah. We wanted to be. From that point, from the first time we stepped on stage, we were intent on being the wildest band that ever existed on this planet. And we wanted to express that in the way we dressed, the way we moved, the way we spoke. We wanted to be shocking. We wanted to cut a hole in the smoggy skies of Hollywood. We wanted to be a beam of cosmic light that came out of Ornette Coleman's saxophone. We wanted to, you know, we just wanted to be wild and so whatever, you know, I was always a very physical person. I always played sports. I loved to dance. I love to move I found extreme freedom in movement. And like that thing I talked about earlier, about that state of enlightenment, of getting beyond thought, I often had that from physical movement. And so that was just a big part of. Of the whole operation, you know, and for all of us. You know, for all of us. And. And we. We love movement. We love dance. We all invented our own funny dances just to feel free, to feel alive, to. To be excited and to, you know, we're entertainers. I wanted to do the thing.
Terry Gross
So one of the things you did, and this is kind of famous. You. You. The band was dressed. I think it was all the band that what you were dressed in was just a sock over genitals.
Flea
Yeah. Mm. Socks on is what we called it. That was something like, you know, Hillel and Anthony and I often. We would do that at home, like to be funny. You know, someone would come. I think it may have been Anthony. Like, him, like, walking out of his room with, you know, with just a sock and, you know, we're all laughing and hanging out and we all did it and. Yeah. And I can't. I think I remember the first time we did it. We used to play this strip club.
Terry Gross
Perfect place.
Flea
Yeah. Yeah, we played this strip club on Santa Monica Boulevard called. Damn it. I wish I could remember the name of it. But anyways, we played there, and I remember one time we were playing and. And we went off stage and we're getting ready to do the encore. Everyone was screaming and yelling, and Anthony, I probably said, sockman, Sockman. And we're like, oh, great, great idea. And so we, you know, put on socks, stripped down, put on socks, and came out and played and it was met warmly. And I think on that particular show, we were opening up for another band called Royd Rogers and the Whirling Butt Cherries. It was just. It was Hollywood in the early 80s. Let me tell you stuff. People were just doing weird stuff to be weird. Like, it was really embraced. There was this underground scene. And I'm. You know, I'm saying these things that some people might find repugnant. And that's cool. You know, I get it. But we grew up in Hollywood. We ran around on the streets in Hollywood. We were so used to, like. I lived in West Hollywood where it was nothing. Like I would. When I was a kid, I would go walk down the street and I would see, you know, guys come. I'd be on my way to school and I'd see guys, gay leather guys walking out of a. Of a gay club, you know, making out in the street, dressed in nothing but leather chaps and chains. Like that's where I grew up, that's where I'm from. And I embraced it all, you know what I mean? I never, you know, I've always embraced it all.
Terry Gross
Did you do the socks thing at punk clubs too?
Flea
Yeah, yeah. Then we then just became like a thing. Like it was so fun and we did it all the time.
Terry Gross
Did you ever get busted for it, like in decency?
Flea
Yeah, once in Green Bay, Wisconsin. We played a show and I can't remember if we did socks or we went completely naked, but I'm sure it was socks. Maybe a sock fell off, I don't know. But we played a show in this club. It was mid winter in Wisconsin, so snow everywhere, freezing. And we play this show and then like we walk off stage and there's the cops and they're like out to the car. You guys are arrested for indecent exposure. And it's like, okay. And we walk out and you know, they're kind of like put us in single file and we're walking to the cop car. But me and Anthony look at each other and one of us is like, let's make a break for it. And we see this, like the club was kind of removed. Like you know, on the outskirts of town and we see these woods and we just bolt. And it's mid winter and snow and we are wearing nothing but socks. You know, they make us walk out, they're in our socks in the freezing cold and we just bolt out. The middle of the night. It's like midnight into these woods, naked. And we just run and we get away and we run and we're like running for a while. We're like freezing, but we're like laughing and hysterically. You know, we just played a gig, we ran away from the cops. It's like these times when you're like, oh my God, I'm so happy in this moment. Like a few times I remember that like consciously in my life. Another time was like hitchhiking in the pouring rain. In the UK once at like three in the morning, all alone and feeling I will never be this happy again in my life. Like, look at me, I am living right now. But anyways, it felt like that. And we run into the street, we see some this car going by with these kids like our age who had been to the show and they give us a ride, they take us to their house and we hang out and have a party with these people. And you know, those were the days
Terry Gross
well, we need to take another break here, so let me reintroduce you. If you're just joining us, my guest is Flea, co founder of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. He played bass with the Chili Peppers and plays bass and trumpet on his new solo album, Honora. We'll be right back. This is FRESH air. Two of your bandmates, you know, Anthony Kiedis and Hillel the guitarist, they both had really serious drug problems that caused long absences from the band, that caused a lot of distress within the band. And Hillel died of an overdose in 1988 at the age of 26. It was a real tragedy in terms of your friendship and, and the music, knowing his family because they were, they helped you when you felt very uncomfortable at your own home. What position were you in with two essential bandmates having such serious addiction problems, who you were so close to as friends, like you were each other's family for so long. Did you feel helpless? Did you feel like there was anything you could do to save their lives and to also hold the band together?
Flea
It's difficult. You know, my age and my level of experience and the fact that I did drugs too, like it wasn't like I could, you know, occasionally I would maybe try to like take this sort of authoritative self righteous role, like what are you guys doing drugs for? You know, and I go do it too. I was just never strung out. I never became an addict. But I did plenty of drugs myself. But I mostly sadness. It was just like, like the thing is like with the drug addiction, it was more like I might have been selfish. Like, look, I'm just not getting what I want. I'm not getting these guys to come to rehearsal. I want the band to be really good. I want to make a great album and they're crapping out on me right now and I'd be pissed. But I wish I would have had the knowledge and the self awareness to have acted in a more constructive way, you know, obviously, particularly with Hillel who died and so young and he was a beautiful, creative human being. So. But I didn't know how. I didn't know how. I remember the last time I ever laid eyes on him. We had had a rehearsal that day and he called in sick, couldn't come. And then I went out to eat that night and saw him at the restaurant, high as a kite, completely, you know, not physically ill. I mean, maybe he was sick because he hadn't gotten dope, I don't know. But I was angry at him, you know, I saw him and I was like, hey, you know, But I was mad. I was like, dude, we had rehearsal. You didn't show up. And so here I am, the last time I got to see someone I loved, someone who asked me to start playing bass, someone who I expressed my love for deeply and vice versa. Someone who gave me gifts of paint that he made and love and poetry. He was an artist and always was there for me in that way. And the last time I see him, I was mad at him, you know, instead of, like, being, I love you so much. Like, please don't leave me, you know? And I wish that I would have known more to be there, to be. To help.
Terry Gross
How did you survive heroin? And was seeing what happened to your father and then seeing what happened to Hillel part of how you survived? Like, why not let that happen to
Flea
you for sure, you know?
Terry Gross
Like, I mean, my father, and I meant stepfather, my stepdad. That's okay.
Flea
Yeah. But my father was an alcoholic as well, so it was that same, you know, addiction, like, you're gonna drink to be okay, you know, different, but the same, I think, for me, I. What stopped me from being a heroin addict? And I don't know, maybe it's just like, my. My makeup, I don't know. But I always felt guided by things that were so beautiful to me. The sound of John Coltrane playing his saxophone, the way that Somerset Moms words flow off the page. These things, you know, the way that Kareem Abdul Jabbar shot a skyhook. These things are so beautiful. And I. When I would do heroin, and I did it a lot, and I loved it, don't get me wrong. And I could have easily been an addict, but when I would wake up the day after doing hard drugs and I would feel my energy diminished, I would feel low. I would feel like I'm not as available for myself. I couldn't do the things that I loved. I couldn't. Like, it would. They would be diminished. And it just became clear to me that, like, look, I love these things. I don't want stuff to stop me from these things. And really, that was like. And since I was a little boy, I always felt that in different ways. Like, there's this light, and it's there, and it's for me, and I can follow it, you know? And granted, you know, many times I got away from that, and I, you know, suffered for it, but I think that's how that makes sense.
Terry Gross
Flea, it's been great talking with you. Thank you so much for coming on the show. I really appreciate it.
Flea
Yeah. Terry, thank you. I hope. Yeah. I hope it was good for you, good for the show. And thank you for having me.
Terry Gross
It's been my pleasure. Flea's new solo album is called Honora. Tomorrow on FRESH air, we'll talk about how the Trump administration's head of the Environmental Protection Agency, Lee Zeldin, has transformed it. The agency is now packed with industry lobbyists. Entire databases have been scrubbed from the agency's website and whole departments dissolved. That's what Pulitzer Prize winning journalist Elizabeth Kolbert writes in her profile of Zeldin published in the New Yorker, where she's a staff writer. I hope you'll join us to keep up with what's on the show and get highlights of our interviews. Follow us on Instagram. P R FRESH air Fresh Air's executive producer is Sam Brigger. Our technical director and engineer is Audrey Bentham. Our interviews and reviews are produced and edited by Phyllis Myers, Anne Marie Boldonado, Lauren Krenzel, Teresa Madden, Monique Nazareth, Thea Chaloner, Susan Yukundi, Anna Bauman and Nico Guns Whistler. Our digital media producer is Molly CV Nesper. Roberta Shorrock directs the show. Our co host is Tanya Moseley. I'm Terry Gross.
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Fresh Air (NPR)
Episode: Flea’s wild path from childhood to Chili Peppers
Air Date: April 28, 2026
Host: Terry Gross
Guest: Flea (Red Hot Chili Peppers, solo artist)
This episode centers on Flea’s remarkable journey from a tumultuous childhood to co-founding the Red Hot Chili Peppers, culminating now with his first solo album, Honora. Host Terry Gross delves into Flea’s musical evolution, personal history, family dynamics, struggles with addiction (his own and those close to him), and the wild, formative years of the Chili Peppers. The interview is intimate, reflective, and full of insights on art, survival, and transformation.
Comparing Early and Recent Work
"When I listen back to...the song Nevermind...the feeling I had making it...is a similar feeling that I have now with the record that I just made, Honora. It's a feeling that I haven't really had since back then." (04:00)
“We made music...I had a feeling that we are filling this place, an empty place in the world that hasn't been filled before. We’ve created this thing that is ourselves purely, so it can’t be anybody else.” (04:42)
How Change in Music Mirrors Life Changes
“I was a lunatic. I was a street kid, and...19, going on 10... And I continue to try to grow as a human being in all the ways, emotionally, spiritually, to be more considerate of my fellow human beings.” (05:08–06:00)
“I've been a different person for each one of them. You know, I've been a different kind of parent... If one is willing to feel the pain and suffering of being a human being, you’re gonna grow.” (06:28)
Inspiration from Jazz and Musical Education
“They played fast, they played furiously. They played with great tenderness. They played with great violence and physicality. And it was wild.” (10:32–11:17)
“You take a song like Nervous Breakdown by Black Flag...and then you take a song like Cherokee, best played by Clifford Brown and Max Roach...they are both played by people yearning with every fiber of their being to make sense of the world that they live in.” (11:21)
Stepfather’s Positive and Negative Impacts
"He was a drug abuser. He was an addict. He was an alcoholic. And he was prone to these wild fits of violence...smashing all the windows, breaking everything...We were terrified." (13:35)
“But it turned ugly with my stepfather... Even though he never hit me...it got bad with my mother and, you know, and with my sister, and he beat both of them. He did.” (14:33)
“My best was always, like, when he would stop to try to create this feeling of levity and love...by, like, being cute and funny or whatever I could do to try and make it better.” (15:48–16:19)
Performance as Survival
“In a really healthy way, I love the art form...But then there’s this other part...that is unhealthy. That is that same thing I did when I was a little kid. It was like, love me, please. You know what I mean?” (16:20)
Transmuting Pain into Music
“When I saw my stepfather played music...he played with such aggressiveness and with such intensity...I knew that he was using all that pain and anger and fear and anxiety...and turning it into something beautiful.” (18:16)
Adolescence on the Streets, Drugs, and Survival
"From when I was 11 years old, I was a street kid. I was running wild." (27:25) “I was high...I started getting high when I was 11. I didn't stop doing drugs until I was 30.” (28:00)
“I'm a survivor. I know how to survive in the street...I looked for family with my friends that I found, like, for instance, the Red Hot Chili Peppers.” (29:04)
Family Found with Chili Peppers
“When we started a band, there's this thing there that it's not just musicians playing notes...it's this other thing...this, like, you can't. With us.” (30:09)
"I loved playing in an orchestra...I played in...the LA Junior Philharmonic for a little while, till one day I got real stoned and went there and made a mistake." (31:14)
“We just had T shirts that said Fairfax Band...we were terrible marchers. We just kind of walked out into a clump in the middle of the field. But we were good, though.” (31:33)
Early Stage Antics and Physicality
“From the first time we stepped on stage, we were intent on being the wildest band that ever existed on this planet...We wanted to cut a hole in the smoggy skies of Hollywood.” (32:42)
The Infamous 'Socks On' Performance
“That was something like, you know, Hillel and Anthony and I often...would do at home like to be funny...Then it just became like a thing.” (34:06–36:16)
“We walk off stage and there's the cops...‘You guys are arrested for indecent exposure.’ ...Me and Anthony look at each other...let's make a break for it...we just bolt.” (36:26–38:16)
Bandmates' Addiction, Hillel’s Death
“I was just never strung out. I never became an addict. But I did plenty of drugs myself. But I mostly sadness. It was just like...I'm just not getting what I want. I'm not getting these guys to come to rehearsal...But I wish I would have had the knowledge and the self awareness to have acted in a more constructive way.” (39:42)
“The last time I see him, I was mad at him...instead of, like, being, I love you so much. Like, please don't leave me, you know?...I wish that I would have known more to be there, to help.” (40:29)
His Own Relationship with Heroin
“I always felt guided by things that were so beautiful to me. The sound of John Coltrane playing his saxophone...When I would do heroin...the day after...I would feel my energy diminished...I love these things. I don't want stuff to stop me from these things.” (42:11)
Ornette Coleman’s Influence – “Morning Cry”
“I remember quite clearly is waking up one morning and feeling an abundance of sadness and being moved to tears...I was just singing that to myself...and it was. Yeah, right in the morning...I went into my music room and scratched it down on a piece of paper. And there it was.” (07:44–08:49)
Willow Weep For Me
“I remember feeling a great deal of sadness...let me let go of this and express it into something beautiful.” (20:12)
Wichita Lineman (with Nick Cave)
“I'll be honest about two things. I've never particularly liked this song...the first time I heard it, I thought, wow, this is just lugubrious. This is weird. Who's singing?...then when I found out that it was Nick Cave singing, I listened again and thought, oh, I actually really like it.” (21:15)
“My reason for recording Wichita Lineman is because I've always loved that song...the version that I know, strangely enough, is not the Glen Campbell version, but the Meters version.” (22:59)
“I sent it to him and he responded within a half hour. Said, it's really scary for me to take that on...But I'll give it a stab...He sent me the tape of it done, and I was just devastated and floored by what he did and will never, ever forget it.” (24:23)
This episode is both a journey through modern music history and a raw exposé of trauma, struggle, and resilience. Flea’s openness about family chaos, the seduction and danger of freedom, addiction, friendship, and the evolution of his art makes for a moving portrait of growth. Throughout, Flea returns to jazz as a source of healing and transformation, exemplified in his new album Honora, which bridges a lifetime’s worth of influences and scars into unique musical expression.
Listeners experience both the wild irreverence and deep vulnerability that have defined Flea’s life and band – a story of pain, catharsis, survival, and creative rebirth.