It was, in fact, eerie how similar to his predecessor Klinghoffer seemed, even physically. Lanky in long, baggy clothes, he threw himself around the stage with a parallel spastic-slacker poise. Like Frusciante, he managed to seem shy and withdrawn while offering genuine guitar-god showmanship. He favored similar axes — vintage Strats, white Gretschs — and slung them low. On the frequent improvised jams he focused on rhythm playing and the group dynamic, and his slashing, scrappy grooves were on par with Frusciante’s.