After a nearly five-decade career as one of his generation’s defining rock bassists, Flea releases his first full-length solo album, Honora, on March 27, 2026, via Nonesuch Records. The project marks a return to his earliest musical loves—jazz and the trumpet—interests that predate his rise as a bassist and bandleader.
The album is introduced by “Traffic Lights,” co-written with Thom Yorke and Josh Johnson, and released alongside the album announcement.
Honora is named in honor of a beloved family member. Flea composed and arranged the music himself and performs trumpet and bass throughout, supported by a close-knit group of modern jazz collaborators: producer and saxophonist Josh Johnson, guitarist Jeff Parker, bassist Anna Butterss, and drummer Deantoni Parks. The record also features vocals from Flea, as well as friends Thom Yorke and Nick Cave, with additional contributions from Mauro Refosco and Nate Walcott, among others.
The album comprises six original compositions—including one co-written by Flea, Johnson, and Yorke—alongside interpretations of songs associated with George Clinton and Eddie Hazel, Jimmy Webb, Frank Ocean and Shea Taylor, and Ann Ronell.
Though Flea once dreamed of following in the footsteps of trumpet heroes like Dizzy Gillespie, Miles Davis, and Clifford Brown, his path shifted early. At sixteen, his close friend Hillel Slovak asked him to pick up the bass and join his band—an invitation that ultimately led to a decades-long career with Red Hot Chili Peppers.
As Flea approached his sixtieth birthday, he came to a realization: if he didn’t return to the trumpet then, he likely never would. He committed to practicing every day for two years—while touring stadiums with Red Hot Chili Peppers and raising a newborn at home—with a simple rule for himself. At the end of those two years, he would make an album, regardless of where his abilities stood.
Until Honora, Flea admits he had never been scared of making music. He worried that the accomplished musicians he’d assembled might see him as, in his words, “a non-playing motherf*cker, charlatan, rock poseur or fan.” Instead, the experience proved transformative.
“It turns out they were all the most genuinely supportive people,” Flea says, “moving me deeply and daily with their generous spirits… Sitting in a room and playing the music with them made me feel like I was on drugs. I was buzzing, tripping and floating around the studio. I love them, they truly gave of themselves. I bow all the way down.”