Zac Johnson (All Music Guide)

The Red Hot Chili Peppers' eighth studio album finds the California foursome exploring the more melodic freeways of harmony and texture, contrasting the gritty, funky side streets of their early days. Luckily, with this more sophisticated sound, the Peppers have not sacrificed any of their trademark energy or passions for life, universal love, and (of course) lust. Although they recorded the spiky Abbey Road E.P. in 1988, this album actually sounds a lot closer to the Beatles' Abbey Road, with a little of Pet Sounds and elements of Phil Spector's lushest arrangements all distilled through the band's well-travelled funk-pop stylings. Harmony vocals and string arrangements have replaced some of the aggressive slap bass that the group was initially recognized for, but fans of both the gentle and the fierce Chili Peppers styles will embrace the title track and first single, "By the Way." In fact, this song on its own could almost be a brief history of everything the Red Hot Chili Peppers have recorded: fiery Hollywood funk, gentle harmonies, a little bit of singing about girls, a little bit of hanging out in the streets in the summertime, some rapid-fire raps from Kiedis, some aggro bass lines from Flea—the song plays like a three-and-a-half-minute audio version of Behind the Music. Overall, the album leans more toward the melodic end of their oeuvre, but they have grown into this kinder, gentler mode organically, progressively working toward this groove little by little, album by album. What once were snapshots of a spastic punk-funk lifestyle have grown into fully realized short stories of introspection and Californication. Though the pace of the album falters at times (particularly in the verses; the choruses are all pretty spectacular), it is refreshing to see that as the four Chili Peppers continue to grow older and more sure of themselves, their composition and performing skills are maturing along with them.

Aidin Vaziri (Amazon.com)

When the Red Hot Chili Peppers first appeared smeared in neon body paint with socks dangling precariously from their wieners, even the most faithful funk-metal convert couldn't have conceived they would be around some 20 years later, carrying on in much the same fashion. Despite a long history of tragedies and personnel upheavals, the California quartet's eighth album is mostly business as usual--and business, as usual, is quite good. The title track, "By the Way," is a powerful, bruised piece of slap-bass and intermediary white-boy rapping. "Universally Speaking" pays sweaty, soulful tribute to singer Anthony Kiedis's hometown of Detroit. And "Lemon Trees on Mercury" sounds eerily like it could have been lifted from 1984's Freaky Styley. The band's reliable eclectic side, meanwhile, surfaces on the Latin-flavored "Cabron" and moody "Venice Queen." But the biggest surprise is "Tear," a masterful homage to the Beach Boys that suggests the Chili Peppers' perpetual state of arrested development may someday lift.

David Sprague (Barnes&Noble)

No longer the simpleminded nudie-funksters of yore, the Chili Peppers have evolved into a band that, despite occasional forays into unreflective testosterone-rock, seem to have at long last grown up right. If By the Way, the Peppers' follow-up to the four-times-platinum Californication, charts a more mature artistic path, chalk up the bulk of it to the six-string wizardry of John Frusciante, by far the most creative of the many guitarists to have served time in Camp RHCP. Frusciante adds an agreeable sense of spacey psychedelia to tunes like "The Zephyr Song," on which his melodic playing makes up for Anthony Kiedis's palpably flat singing. The band's more visceral side is still in evidence here, most notably on the Motown-flavored "Universally Speaking" and the rough-riding rap-rock title track. But these songs come across as more loose-limbed and less carefully calculated than their counterparts on previous releases. Likewise, the Latin-tinged "Cabron" and the pure pop ethereality of "Tear" (the clearest evidence of the fractured relationship that's said to have affected Kiedis's writing) show a maturity that can't be hidden behind a tube sock.

Kevin Boyce (CMJ New Music Report, 776, August 19, 2002)

The Red Hot Chili Peppers are kind of like the cockroach; no matter how many evolutionary changes occur in music, the band continues to exist. By The Way, the group’s eighth studio effort, is a perfect companion piece to its 1999 comeback album, Californication. Further exploring the mellow SoCal style that made “Scar Tissue” a rock radio staple, the Chili Willies dive deeper into complex vocal harmonies and slick arrangements on this long-player. On “Universally Speaking,” it sounds as if Phil Spector handled production duties, rather than fifth-Pepper Rick Rubin.Melody rich tracks like “This Is The Place,” “Dosed,” hit-to-be “The Zephyr Song” and “Can’t Stop”might make longtime fans yearn for an old-fashioned bass-slapping funk fest, but they aren’t gonna get it here. Sure, this foursome is more chill than red-hot nowadays, but you’ve got to hand it to the band. After almost 20 years together, the Chili Peppers are still making some of the best music of its storied career. That’s not bad for a group of guys who used to perform while wearing socks on their dicks.

Josh Rogan (DOTmusic)

Once upon a time the Red Hot Chili Peppers were the ultimate in super dumb, super macho, pumped up, pec pulsing, punk funk. Their now legendary penchant for wearing socks on their cocks and spouting sexist locker-room drivel for shock value has all but disappeared. Now the only shocking thing, aside from the fact that they're still alive, is their decision to grow old gracefully. 
Their previous incarnation culminated in the globe straddling, genre busting, mega-platinum unit shifter 'Blood Sugar Sex Magic'. Since then everything they've committed to tape has become increasingly understated, living in the shadow of what is widely perceived as their aforementioned career defining moment. They even seemed to have lost the all-important ingredient that made them stand out - the funk.
Luckily on 'By The Way' it's been replaced with genuine emotion and - whisper it - maturity. Underpinned throughout by the kind of melancholic edge discovered on radio friendly ode to smack 'Under The Bridge', and punctuated by a spontaneous, back-to-basics feel it's an album that sees the Chilis revitalised. In fact being a little longer in the tooth suits them just fine.
Aside from single 'By The Way' Anthony Keidis' trademark stuttering raps are replaced by a soulful, emotive croon backed up by some delicate, reach for the skies harmonising. There's a touch of acoustic calypso ('Cabron'), sorrowful horns ('Tear'), haunting pedal steel ('Warm Tape') and even some summery, string laden cosmic pop ('Universally Speaking'). The lachrymose balladry of 'Dosed' and spiralling psychedelia of 'This Is The Place' being two of their finest moments. 
With 16 tracks clocking in at over 70 minutes there is the odd duff moment but that aside this is a gentle but triumphant return. No longer burning red hot, in their old age the Chili Peppers are benefiting from a warm glow.

Darryl Sterdan (Winnipeg Sun / JAM! Music, May 25, 2002)

When they were young men, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, like most young men, were obsessed with pleasures of the flesh: Sex, drugs, sex, dancing with their shirts off, sex, sports and oh, yeah, sex. 
As they have grown older, however, like most older men, they have become more concerned with matters of a spiritual nature: Love, honour, friendship, salvation, regret and redemption. 
The band's slow but steady transition from tattooed love-boy funketeers into middle-aged soul men -- a process begun in 1991 on Blood Sugar Sex Magik's Under the Bridge and Breaking the Girl -- is nearly complete on By the Way, the eighth and most refined album of their 20-year career. 
The tube-sock funk-metal of their first decade is all but banished from these 16 cuts, which aim to subliminally sock it to your head and heartstrings instead of your feet and fanny. Flea's bass lines have gone from a full boil to a quiet percolation; Chad Smith's drum beats are mixed further in the background; and Anthony Kiedis' lyrics to tracks like Universally Speaking, Don't Forget Me and I Could Die For You are less about giving it away now than they are about realizing what's important to hold on to forever. 
The band's secret weapon these days, though, is prodigal guitarist John Frusciante, who takes the musical reins on By the Way, reportedly contributing not only his increasingly idiosyncratic and experimental fretwork but also all the keyboards and backup vocals. It's his exploding abilities that take the Chili Peppers to new places like the flamenco folk-hop of Cabron and the punchy ska of On Mercury. They haven't totally severed their ties with their freaky-styley past -- the nostalgic neck-snapping workout of the title cut and Throw Away Your Television, along with the slow-rolling Can't Stop, should satisfy the faithful for now. 
At any rate, they'll have to do. Because at this point, there's no question the Red Hot Chili Peppers have more important matters on their minds than getting you to shake your butt.

John Robinson (NewMusicalExpress)

If the Red Hot Chili Peppers have come to realise anything over a career of nearly 20 years, then it's that enough shallowness eventually starts to make you pretty deep. Over that time there have been drugs, there have been girls, and there have almost certainly been parties – now we find the group in the unenviable position of surveying the aftermath, and trying to clear up the mess. 
Or we would, were this 1999, and this a review of the band's 'Californication' album – confessional, occasionally heartbroken, and containing a song about going surfing with your friends. The thing is, so monstrously successful was this often downbeat record, it feels that with 'By The Way' the group have got the confidence to do exactly what they want again. Their hearts are on their sleeves, for sure, but their hearts seem to be in their work as well. 
And 'By The Way' is, by and large, very good. By god is it ever long (it's 16 tracks), but on the whole it showcases enough of what makes the Chili Peppers a very good rock group – chief among these are John Frusciante's excellent, inventive guitar playing, and the fact that it is with tremendous conviction that Anthony Kiedis belts out even the most ridiculous words. 
Stylistically all over the shop (there's a Spanish-sounding thing called 'Cabron', 'Tear' sounds like Paul McCartney, while 'On Mercury' is dangerously close to ska-punk), there is a confused but occasionally inspirational band at work here. Certainly, there are bellowing rock ballads that you have heard the Red Hot Chili Peppers do a thousand times before, albeit with different names, but there are equally a clutch of songs that brilliantly capture their regretful, reformed, but still ultimately playful essence. 
'By The Way' (the single), sets the tone. In it, we find Anthony Kiedis waiting, rather unbelievably, "in line to see the show" (surely "in line for an early dinner reservation at Spago"), but compensates for this immediately with a completely unpredictable torrent of noise. 'Can't Stop' sees them revisiting their funk rock blueprint, then, best of the lot, there's 'This Is The Place'. Basically 'Under The Bridge Pt 2', a heroin confessional with a fantastic chorus, and the moment where you could most realistically believe that the Red Hot Chili Peppers are actually a rock band of the quality ofQueens Of The Stone Age. The Red Hot Chili Peppers today define themselves by what they were once, and how they're not like that anymore. Not wasted. Not stupid. And remarkably, not uncool, either.

Tom Moon (RollingStone, 901, July 2, 2002)

It turns out Californication was only foreplay. With the accomplished, insanely melodic By the Way, the Red Hot Chili Peppers dive headfirst into the pop realm that their 1999 single "Scar Tissue" hinted at. They swim around in the same inviting Southern California waters that inspired the Beach Boys, and discover that the incandescent hook can say as much as, if not more than, the testosterone-driven backbeat. A near-perfect balance of gutter grime and high-art aspiration, the Rick Rubin-produced By the Way continues the Peppers' slow-motion makeover. The band pioneered the funk-rock-rap hybrid thing in the Eighties, and then, beginning with BloodSugarSexMagik and its single "Under the Bridge" in 1991, began moving away from the genre's stultifying repetitions. Slyly, without doing anything drastic to alienate their core audience, the Peppers have shed their early devices -- the jerky raps, the faux-P-Funk rhythms - that were once innovative but quickly became the stock tools of every rap-metal hybrid in the land. Along the way, the Peppers' songs got more intricate, acquiring string riffs and heroic guitar counterlines, and pretty soon this band of loutish love thugs became the alt-rock Aerosmith (minus the screeching-and-beseeching power ballads), creators of music that could be at once credible and commercial. The transition has been so gradual that those who were on the scene in the rowdy Eighties followed right along and stayed as the band made its lunge toward art. On By the Way, these reformed groove savants head out on an even more radical pursuit, chasing that elusive moment of giddy, unspeakable bliss most often found in the work of Brian Wilson and the Beatles. They don't only want to reference that kind of writing, though -- they work to take the songs there. Singer Anthony Kiedis' utopian love themes and hot-oil sex scenes have been raised to a Pet Sounds level of refinement. The hooks, most from the pen of guitarist and budding auteur John Frusciante, are sweet but never syrupy. The Peppers have never been this consistent: Even the seemingly mindless songs come with consciousness-expanding bridges instead of just salacious vamps, and they toss out sprawling existential questions ("Is it safe inside your head?") as often as they strive for tidy answers. By the Way would be notable just for its parade of relentlessly catchy melodies: "This Is the Place," "Midnight" and the karmic allegory "Universally Speaking" are three of maybe eight tracks persuasive enough to own the radio this summer. Several others venture down unusual alleyways -- the suitelike "Venice Queen," the Latin gallop "Cabron," which advocates peace in a gang-run neighborhood -- and two or three, if omitted, wouldn't be missed. But here is where the band's years spent perfecting the deep-funk groove have paid off: Even the few obligatory mawkish ballads are delivered as though they were urgent bulletins from some metaphysical front line, with an intensity rarely heard on multitracked recordings. Anyone can build a song around a simple command such as "Throw Away Your Television"; the Chili Peppers take that idea, lash it to a romping beat that recalls the Ellington orchestra's 1930s-vintage jungle jumps, and turn it into something positively galvanizing, the seed of a get-off-the-couch revolution. Similarly unexpected references turn up throughout By the Way -- Kiedis stretches his voice into some Beatlesque psychedelia on "Universally Speaking" and contributes to a Beach Boys chorale on "The Zephyr Song," which is as close as this band has come to conjuring pure California sunshine. And even the more "typical" Chili Pepper rumbles -- such as "Midnight," which finds Kiedis urging, "Mix it up until there are no pedigrees" -- are not exactly boilerplate retreads. They're smart extensions of the identifiable brand, examples of how to expand an already distinctive sound and evolve, organically, without going too far. It's one thing to mix things up until the pedigrees are obliterated. It's another to do what the Chili Peppers have done: Gather disconnected sounds and ideas from all over the map into something that's cohesive and bold, and, despite its mongrel origins, couldn't come from anyone else.

© Frank Steven Groen