Faith No More | Dingwalls, London - January 22nd 1988

On January 22 1988 Faith No More hit the United Kingdom live scene for the first time. The venue was Dingwalls in Camden, London. It was in fact the first time FNM played outside of the United States and Canada. The show was the first date of a European tour that ended in July of that year, Chuck Mosley parted ways with FNM shorty after the tour ended.

Tony Mottram

Sounds Magazine | 23.01.1988

SOMETHING ABOUT all this reminds me of the early Southern Death Cult gigs. Perhaps it's simply Chuck Mosley's whiplash mohawk awakening memories of a long forgotten Astbury haircut. Then again, it could be that most dangerous of things — a hunch that tonight we're in at the start of something big, a feeling, would you believe, almost of smugness.

The buzz that now surrounds Faith No More seems perfectly justified judging by tonight. That's rare in these days of fresh 'saviours' coming and going every week, I know, but it's true. Understandably, the expectations of the assembled hyped-up longhairs, punks and Walkman-wielding bootleggers are high, but does this worry Mosley and the boys? No way!

They emerge confidently, aware that they've much to live up to but determined to lake it at) in their stride. Slipping effortlessly into their hard, pumping music they proceed to let events follow a natural course, holding back to begin with, simmering gently, but clearly building up to something very strong, very convincing.

To our left, a baseball-hatted Rob Bottum plays keyboards; next to him, bassist Bill Gould darts around like a younger, sprightlier Angus Young. In the middle a furry freak called Mike loses himself in his drums, and to the right stands guitarist Jim Martin — all beard and corkscrew locks, happy for the time being to let loose just the odd fork of crackling power at selected moments, master magician at this most compelling of musical black masses.

Slowly but surely they turn up the heat, 'Chinese Arithmetic' and 'We Care A Lot' triggering off a flurry of flying bodies, the band's appetite for irony, confrontation and recklessness finally making its presence felt when the guitar starts to scream. And all the while the tension is mounting, propelled by a tightly compressed dancebeat, the constant stormy presence of Bottom's intriguingly wistful keyboards and Mosley's

deftly spattering phraseology.

We're almost there now, a segment of 'Stairway To Heaven' (one of many classic rock references made

tonight) leading into a solo acoustic spot from a seemingly spaced-out Martin, and finally it's Black Sabbath's 'War Pigs'. Insanity reigns, everything takes on a hot white glow and, like dominoes, one by one the senses collapse. Glorious oblivion.

Kerrang! | Issue 174 | 13.021988 | Chris Watts

STRANGE. FAITH No More would love you to think them incompetent. They would love me to denounce them as goo goo doll deviants who don't really belong in this Rock 'n' Roll circus. Strange, then, that Faith No More belong. Tonight is satisfying if unspectacular London Records are out in force and probably think the world shifted on its axis. Cover stories, major label releases, critics' choice.. Faith No More have arrived. The Dingewalls (sic) crowd give the band two numbers of cold shoulder before letting loose. The sound is horrendous. Perfect. 'We care a lot about you people, about your guns, About the wars you're fighting.' Faith No More would never admit to caring about you and me but they do. Their rhythms - gutter grebo rhythms - are battered mercilessly before you and me. For our benefit. Maybe you weren't there? Too bad. Let's face it - Chuck Mosley cannot sing. Fact of life. Sometimes his Beastie Boy rap wail can grate on the nerves. Perfect. Stripped to the waist, mohican dribbling over his head, 36 Chuck is OK. Don't worry 'bout him. He's having a ball. Around him the band look sloppy-tight with the nonchalance of the professional. These slapping bass assaults could smash bottles at your local disco dance. The drums could tear down your hairspray. Keyboards add a texture to 'We Care A Lot' and 'New Beginnings' but the evening belongs to James B. Martin.

One man and his Flying V. Marshall amp in the shadows. Very rock'n' roll. Martin plays guitar like you Just wished Blue Oyster Cult would again. Red Framed glasses beneath his redneck mopstack. He has no delusions, no arrogance, but Christ can he play? ("Yes" - JC) They betray their origins with bursts of the great. The climax to 'Stairway To Heaven' is inserted like a thumb up your nose. The crowd wave their hands because they understand the Joke. Faith No More and Led Zeppelin? Er, you really had to be there. The encores are sweet. A dream. "A great song," says Billy Gould. They've just crucified Bon Jovi's 'Wanted Dead Or Alive' I think Billy's serious. "Hey, man, what f**kin' day is it?" lurches Jim and you know Faith No More are a little drunk and plenty intoxicated. There's a little blonde scrap standing on the stage furiously facing Jim and he smiles. So much attention to these Atlanta racketeers? They leave in a film of sweat. The sound never improves and Chuck never really sung a note. If it's Metal then you could just die laughing. If Faith No More are a little more important then you may well be on the right track. "You've been a great audience. An ugly audience, but still a great audience!"

Strange band.