Damn the Chili Peppers.

Five years ago, they were the coolest; on a one-way road trip to Valhalla, buoyed along on a wave of smack, smack, smack. The legacy had been written; ‘Here lies the hard living, big funking rock warriors; may the remaining calcium from their bones rot away quickly.’

And then they cleaned up and cleared out of junkville, getting on the corporate rehabilitation programme to cash-cow nirvana. Now when they die, it will be in large, well attended-to Hollywood Hills mansions.

...and what do we get in return for this snivelling, shameless opt-out for the yoga and vegan lifestyle?

Tunes. Big, sleek, heart warming, lustrous homages to SoCal soul as graceful as Flea’s nappies were once graceless.

Damn them all the way to paradise.