The Red Hot Chili Peppers release of The Getaway is an endearing alternative rock release that plays its strengths in powerful restraint. Honestly, the album is a difficult to listen to, as tracks invariably cut shorter than it takes to appreciate them, yet even amidst its shortcomings the stellar songwriting from the Los Angeles natives cannot be ignored.

The eponymous title track trickles in subtly with psychedelic warbles as vocalist Anthony Kiedas drones on about the cosmos within a car and the Chili Peppers feel as if they’ve leisurely strolled right in. Funky bass slaps mixed with soft rock piano chords and the design of “Dark Necessities” call forth a band putting forth a more matured sound (and a fun-loving music video), as if piano balladry backing psychedelic warbles were their trademark; the combinations continue in “We Turn Red” as stories from Kiedas’ mind unfold in Funky Monk style. As “The Longest Wave” plays on the continual theme of The Getaway seems to be giving a sense of sweetness only briefly hinted at in the decades before.

The Getaway starts to shift with Recurring ‘ayo’ yelps build up a long running tension through “Goodbye Angels” before exploding into an urgent wail from guitarist Josh Klinghoffer’s soloing that cuts off quickly as it came. Just following “Sick Love” belts out cheesy lines like “sick love is my modern cliché” with a happy-go-lucky sweetness to match. Then Bassist Flea bumps a disco dancing style in “Go Robot” as Kiedas sings about, well, Robots. Then just when you think “Feasting On The Flowers” lets out all those funky Chili Pepper elements that are so lovable, the band breaks down just briefly enough to play out their soul.

The music abruptly shifts as “Detroit” takes the band’s Californicating prowess and aims it’s alternative psychedelic cannon outwards. Continuing the rampage, “This Ticonderoga” swings like a pendulum, running rampant in punk rocking frenzy and repeatedly breaking down – filled with violins and pianos winding downwards, only to run rampant again. Offsetting the brashness a pair of sadder songs beautifully play out in the sad mortality of “Encore” making you wonder about Mary, then slipping through the cracks of time as “The Hunter” addresses fatherhood.

Chaotically controlled drum chops interspersed with distorted groans drive the closing “Dreams Of A Samurai” story, with a lonely man questioning the sanity of memory in the fading of the choir – and the listener questioning how it all finished so quickly.