I thought Under the Bridge was a love song to Los Angeles.
An ode.
A vibe.
The city of my youth humming back at me through speakers and memory.

But like so many things in life, there are layers.

It turns out it’s a song about isolation.
Loneliness.
Addiction.

Something Anthony Kiedis never meant to be a song at all.
Too vulnerable. Too sentimental. Almost embarrassing.

And then Rick Rubin heard it.
And said, simply:

Love to hear it.

And somehow—through that witnessing—
one of the best songs they ever made was born.

Here’s the pivot.

What I usually sing.

I usually sing from after the fire.
After the burn has cooled enough to touch.
After I’ve found the pattern, the meaning, the myth.

I sing competence.
Orientation.
Presence.

I sing from the place where I’ve already survived.

But Under the Bridge doesn’t sing from there.

It sings from before survival.

“I don’t ever want to feel like I did that day.”

We all have one of those days.
I do too.

The day under the bridge of abandonment.
Betrayal.
Shame.

The moments I usually move past quickly—
turn into insight, or wisdom, or strength—
before I ever let them be seen.

Rick was there to hear what Anthony was trying to hide.
To recognize the thing that wanted to be deleted.
And to say: that’s the song.

We all need that witness.
The one who sees what we’re about to throw away
because it feels too exposed to share.

Sometimes that witness is a person.
Sometimes it’s a place.
Sometimes it’s a song.

This song asked me to remember a time before I figured things out.
When isolation felt normal.
When concrete and distance were familiar companions.

I didn’t want to talk about that part.
It felt too exposed.

I usually move past those moments quickly.
This song didn’t let me do that.

It didn’t ask for meaning.
It didn’t offer comfort.

It just said:

Love to hear it.