For about two minutes the Red Hot Chili Peppers were called: 'Tony Flow and the Miraculously Majestic Masters of Mayhem'
Glad that didn't stick, cuz its a mouthful...TFATMMMOM.
That would have been rather problematic, and make an odd T-shirt.
It is a suitable name though, applicative to a tee.
Anthony IS flow ánd he is a true master of alliteration and iteration, the ruler of titillation and superfluous repetition, antonymous, antithesis are both harboring Ants...rippling rushing, plethorous paucity all effortlessly meander into my head to perfectly dock onto the wharf of my receptiveness.
Whack wallop, thwack thump.. flow thy words upon me.
Crack your chest wide open, show your soul in delicate abdication of the charade...lay your face down, humbly.
There, have all of me.
His lyrics are highly personal, unequivocally so, but also unrevealingly concealingly hiding emotions in poetic notions, always in contention over the straightforwardness or the concealed larval stage of where we know the butterflies hide.
The love for language.
Lecherous salaciousness shoved in the window to the world.
In gentle softheartedness professing unfeigned love to life, for life.
Living all of it.
Possible more often than not, his words are musical interpunction, rhythmically melodically swervingly accompany the reverberating frequencies rising from the devout intimacy, his singing another instrument in the miraculous majestic fellowship of mayhem.
Words, as porcelain as the heart of the newborn deer, a drop in the stillest of water.
Hold back, hold back, deferred delay, restrain refrain, make silence deafeningly sweet.
An(thony's) invitation to inevitable surrender.
- Porcelain, Red Hot Chili Peppers