Their days of doing drugs and dressing their genitals with socks mercifully long gone, LA funk-rock indestructibles Red Hot Chili Peppers have become the kind of generations-spanning band to attract both parents and their teenage kids to shows. They ought to have long since descended into total self-parody with their icky sex jams, but there’s something about the band’s absurd sense of humour and very Californian age-defying vitality that keeps them just the right side of outright ridiculousness.

Singer Anthony Kiedis, who at 54 appears to be taking fashion advice from 20-something hipster cycle couriers, crawls on stage for reasons unexplained before bounding around like a baby gazelle to openers Can’t Stop, Dani California and The Zephyr Song. Slappiest of bass-slappers Flea, who also at 54 has come dressed in an outfit that looks as if it’s cut from some kind of psychedelic patchwork bedspread, seems, meanwhile, to be taking fashion advice from no one.

Come the mandatory demonstrate-some-local-knowledge bit, the Chilis go deeper than most as guitarist Josh Klinghoffer, John Frusciante’s very able replacement since 2009, impressively reveals his favourite Scottish band to be obscure Edinburgh post-punks Josef K, before Kiedis instructs the band’s trumpeter to play Gerry Rafferty’s Baker Street. Dark Necessities and Go Robot make reinvigorated representations from their Danger Mouse-produced new album The Getaway. Californication, Under the Bridge and the resplendently stupid By the Way gives the crowd the cross-generational singalongs they came for. Will Ferrell-alike drummer Chad Smith virtuosically mashes his kit solo as Flea, for reasons unexplained, returns to the stage for the encore by walking on his hands, before Give It Away gives all assembled one last chance to rock their socks off.

