Anthony Kiedis to Immortalize His Late Father, Blackie Dammett, with Statue and Tribute Concert
By Anthony Kiedis
My father, Blackie Dammett, was more than just a parent — he was a force of nature. He lived loud, loved deep, and burned bright. For those who knew him, or even those who only brushed shoulders with him on a wild night in Los Angeles, they understood that Blackie carried a spirit that couldn’t be tamed. Today, I feel compelled to honor that spirit in a way that captures who he truly was — a rebel, a dreamer, and a man who loved life like it was an endless rock show.
That’s why I’m announcing a very special tribute: a statue in his honor and a one-night-only concert celebration dedicated to his memory. Both are meant not only to celebrate Blackie’s legacy but also to remind the world that his flame continues to burn through music, art, and love.
My father was born James Kiedis, but the world came to know him as Blackie Dammett — actor, artist, manager, and storyteller. He was my first introduction to the unpredictable magic of rock ’n’ roll. When I was a kid, he showed me what freedom meant. He let me see the wild side of life early on — maybe too early — but it shaped me. He was my first hero, my first teacher, and my first glimpse into the chaotic beauty of creative living.
The statue, which will be unveiled in Los Angeles next year, will stand not as a monument of grief, but as a symbol of love and legacy. It will be a reminder of a man who gave everything he had to his art, his friends, and his family. Designed by a close friend of ours, the statue will capture him as I remember him best — leather jacket, that unmistakable grin, and a cigarette dangling from his lips, like he just cracked another joke at life’s expense.
But Blackie wouldn’t have wanted quiet reflection. He would have wanted music — loud, wild, and full of heart. So, alongside the statue’s unveiling, the Red Hot Chili Peppers will perform a tribute concert featuring songs inspired by the love and madness that defined our relationship. We’ll play the songs that carry his fingerprints, the ones that echo with the laughter and lessons he left behind.
This isn’t just for me — it’s for everyone who ever lost someone who changed their world. It’s for the fathers who taught their kids how to dream differently, for the artists who never fit in, and for the souls who burned too brightly to ever fade quietly.
When I think of Blackie, I think of love without apology. He wasn’t perfect — far from it — but he was real. He taught me that mistakes are just part of the melody, and that redemption often comes in the form of a good song played at the right time.
So when the lights go up and the music begins, I hope people don’t just see a statue or hear a concert. I hope they feel him — the laughter, the chaos, the beauty. I hope they feel what I feel: eternal gratitude for the man who made me who I am.
This tribute is my way of saying thank you, Dad. Thank you for the wild ride, the lessons, the scars, and the songs. You’ll never be forgotten — not as long as there’s music in my veins and stories left to tell.
Your spirit still dances in every note we play. This one’s for you, Blackie. Forever.
