Anthony Kiedis’ Scar Tissue might be the best book I’ve read in three or four years.
Yeah... never in a million years did I imagine I’d ever type that out. But I mean each and every word of it. Scar Tissue is an amazing read. I chalk that up to Kiedis' ability to tell a story, and tell it well. He could spend 300 pages talking about unfolding a brown paper grocery bag, and it would read like the most compelling piece of literature you’ve seen in five years.
Fortunately, he doesn’t talk about grocery bags. He talks about being a kid and hanging out at clubs with his dad and Keith Moon. He talks about being baby-sat by Cher. (Yes, the Cher.) He talks passionately about his one true love: The Red Hot Chili Peppers (which he fronts, for those of you who ignored music during the last quarter of the 20th Century). And he talks about his battles with being an addict. A lot.
Despite this seemingly bleak subject matter, the book is not a big, glum diary about drug use. It’s a book about a man who genuinely loves life, the music he makes, and the brothers he makes it with. It’s the story of a man who has one detrimental weakness that prevents him from having absolute control over his life. But, time and time again, he defeats it because he appreciates what he has, and doesn’t want to lose it.
If anything, Scar Tissue transcends being a 465-page Hollywood name-drop and instead sits as a thick tome of vulnerability, where Kiedis opens himself up completely and leaves you wanting to hug him like a troubled big brother afterward.
Do yourself a favor and spend a weekend reading Scar Tissue. You’ll be sad when it ends, because good stories like that aren’t told often enough.