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California crap-busters Faith No More, currently on a UK club tour, are one of the most exciting, fresh and inspiring outfits to hit these shores in a long time. So sez Steffan Chirazi, in a bitter-sweet conversation with band guitarist 'Big' Jim Martin...... Kerrang! Magazine | January 30th 1988 | Issue 172 Gotta Have Faith by Steffan Chirazi THERE ARE leaders and there are followers, that's something of a fact in life. Kerrang! led the field in this particular case, introducing you to the band called Faith No More last year, giving you a dose of originality in a world of conformist bulls* *t banality. And Faith No More themselves are leaders on that exact front; they are crap-busters, creators, inventors and ultimately innovators. They don't pose all pop 'n' lipstick for teen mags, they don't don chains, leather and stupid cliched snarls for the 'Eavy Metal mob. They are themselves. They don't preach, they don't bleed social consciousness all over your speakers, they don't fart around trying to become the next major thing. They maybe sense that this will happen anyway. They're my top tip for '88, and by now a few of you should see just why. Currently playing the top clubs in Blighty, Faith No More illustrative of what it is to be exciting, fresh and inspiring. The guitar crunches like no other fucking guitar that's tossed off in front of my ears of late, the melodies are quite superb and the rhythm is as heavy as shit... the Sabs would've been proud of such underlying rhythmic monstrosities as those beaten out by FNM. The history of Faith No More has already been detailed in issue eight of Mega Metal so I'll recap only the key points. They come from California, (Bay Area and Los Angeles) and they consist of Chuck Mosley , vox, Jim Martin, guitar, Roddy Bottum, keyboards, Bill Gould, bass and Mike Bordin, drums. They were aided in finding Jim by the late Cliff Burton, Bordin's and Martin's pal, and Cliff always took healthy interest in FNM's development.The band recently signed with Slash/Warner Bros, having been with an indie called Mordam for a while, and released the album 'Introduce Yourself' on that label in the US and on London Records in Europe. If you haven't got the record yet and you like to hear freshness amongst your rouge 'n' lipstick, buy it. In the USA FNM just completed a tour with the RHCP, with much success, are on the verge of signing with Quiet Riot / Faster Pussycat manager Warren Entner and have been receiving trendy MTV coverage of late. And this all brings me to a small project in the little Hamlet called Hayward, California. Very late at night it is too, and Jim Martin's just sitting in his big padded chair with his big drink in his big hand watching his big video on his big television. Everything in Jim's life has to be big, right down to the Lincoln town car he cruises around in. Jim Martin is used to big, big is used to Jim Martin, and even the things that Jim Martin says usually have that, errumm, biggish feel about them. His commentary on the other members and the inter-member relationships are actually rather huge. "Yeah, well, our singer Chuck has a physical abnormality in the shape of his third nipple. The one that your readers will be most interested in, the third one, is a result of his wearing lacy underthings onstage. Two nipples just weren't enough for a man like Chuck, so he developed the third from an irritation; a pimple. The lacy underthings forced holy to scratch the pimple, and so the third nipple developed.....on his arse. Every once in a while it weeps pus y'know, and I personally feel that this overall abnormality has helped chuck develop into the bitter frontman he is." And now for Martin on drummer and bitter man Mike Bordin. "Mike the goat boy, eh? Well, uh, there we are in the truck during the last tour and I'm being constantly assaulted with imbecilic questions which have nothing much to do with what the real question is at all. The real big question might be, 'Please can we make a stop so I can use the bathroom?' However, the questions that came forth were, 'what time is it? Do we need to get gas soon? How long has it been since we last made a stop?' All these irritating questions constantly coming from Puffy Possum, the goat boy who would look far better with ram horns mounted upon his forehead." Bordin's reply? "Jim has been like this since I met him in Ninth Grade, I hated him immediately and have hated him ever since. He's a creep, he's good at it and he's had a lotta practice at being one." Now, you are all wondering just what's going on, I'm sure. Dirty laundry is rarely done in public, let along in the fragile world of rock, so just where does it all come from? Are Faith No More bitter with themselves. bitter with life, or both? "Bitterness pretty much gives us our basic overall sound as far as I'm concerned; in as much as bitter feelings, bitter times, bitter pills swallowed and all that s* *t. See, if we were happy we'd play happy music, and I don't think we play happy music at all. The bitterness that brews in this band is most certainly our strong point. We thrive on the conflict of bitterness within the band: it often threatens to drive wedges between us all, but that's fine because it's helpful to us y'know?" He slugs a big slug of a bigger beer, getting ready to give another big answer. Just where does all this bitterness originate from? "From the slaves, man! It all originates from the slaves of old America. They bore the first real bitterness, and from that came the blues, which we all know is the musical root of bitter feeling. They invented the blues as a way of expressing their unhappiness at their whole deal It's something that I don't think enough people are aware of y'know, the roots of bitterness and all that." Of course every word has a definition, and every definition is open to interpretation, Jim has his own big definition of this bitterness. "Bitterness is the display of huge disgust for fucking bullshit, and that is a part of the way we live. Bullshit is a predominant force in life, that's why bitterness is spreading all the time further and further. I feel that I'm making a pretty good job of weeding out the bullshitters in my life, I still know a couple but that's alright because they're my friends. But I absolutely hate the Bullshitters that aren't my friends yes, you, you out there ... I hate you.. . yes, you! It's very important to remember that our band thrives on inner conflict and turmoil... the Earth was created around those very elements of conflict and turmoil." "I mean, look at Mike!" Jim shouts in a large blurted voice. "Look at what's happened to Mike. He's a twisted-up man with all that bitterness inside him, and he needs to be for his drumming. His learning African style percussion cane about at a time when he had absolutely nothing to do. It was either take these classes and learn a new thing or kill himself, such was the boredom level in his life at that time." "He was living a life of a hobo and he nearly became a skeleton, but he dealt with that bitter chunk of life....however, he always had trouble fully coming to terms with his huge bitterness. But that's a whole different story concerning bitterness, self-mutilation, violence, torture and various unspeakable illegal substances which I am not at liberty to go into." Behind all the bitterness, though, lies good, wholesome ability, the type that all this chart shit crap out in a lifetime of hit singles. That guitar that is always mentioned when FNM come up is something that wasn't just picked up over night. It all started a long, long time ago..... "It's like this. I was forced to pick up a guitar by Black Sabbath. I first heard the ripping huge thick sounds of Sabbath when I was a youth and figured that was the thing to do. Ahh, Jimmy Page was a definite hero, I used to copy all his shit just to see what he was doing. Hendrix too, Cliff Burton....." Martin once played in a big band with Cliff. "Yeah, we had this little band for a while, but with huge sounds, y'know? But anyway , other heroes would have to include early Michael Schenker, although in this article I read the other day they said that he's gone commercial. I always thought that the guy didn't want that, and that it was the very reason he left The Scorpions, figured the guy wanted to carve his own precise melodic path. But I guess that the guy had some problems, although I am basing this upon the words of the press, who are probably telling lies and shouldn't be trusted. I shall be investigating this myself. Anyway... I also like classical music a great deal, like Beethoven. Bach is great, Wagner, all epic guys y'know? The reason I got into classical guitar was because it always sounded like several guitars being played at once. I always thought that was a great thing. So I went to Chabot College in Hayward California, where I attended lessons with about 15 other kids. The teacher was extremely fine too, which helped me pick up even more." With classical influences as well as the influences of such as Sabbath and Metallica, just how does the original avoid being boxed with the unoriginal? Is it a worrying situation? "No way, I'm plenty happy with our situation," states Jim in big tones, "I don't feel in danger of being placed in the box of categorisation at all. We can't be threatened with it, because there isn't a box big enough for us anyway. However, it is only a matter of time before they make one big enough but I personally don't give a fuck if they do because they'll all be wrong. As we know, however good anything starts out, it always turns to shit!" More of the unclassifiable is to be committed to vinyl within the next few months, and just where these ideas have been brewing is best described in a big big voice by Jim. New stuff is being generated both here in my cubicle and main idea, of course, is to make the s* *t sound good and to do that we have to have the time to f* *k around a bit more in the studio. Production is of minimal importance in all that. the most important factor is band maturation. "Our old problem was that we spent too much time deciding how things should be played or should not be played, but now that those stupid walls have crumbled we're playing just what the fuck we want to, as and how we want to play it. And I'll tell you another thing, man," Jim takes a big drag of his big cigar, eases back into his big chair and takes a big slug of his big bottle of Jack Daniel's. "I have no regard for anyone when it comes to recording this next album. I will indulge myself on it as, and when, I feel it necessary to do so." Jim Martin, Faith No More, stand for something that is for the most part lacking in music: able uniqueness. And you know the scariest aspect of this hotchpotch of temperamental and able fools? They're just so...so ...so....big. Does that make sense? I think it does, and I just know that you do. #faithnomore #kerrang

The second Faith No More record and the final to feature Chuck Mosley on vocals was released thirty three years ago on April 23rd 1987. "....A colossal, oppressive and obsessively violent rock noise. That's intimidating and disturbing in the extreme..." - Melody Maker "A tremendous piece of work, unpredictable, explosive and unclassible." - The Real Story Voted as one of Sounds Magazine's most important albums of the year in 1987 and considered an inspiring masterpiece by many... Introduce Yourself was released thirty three years ago. Recorded over two weeks at Studio D in Sausalito California, it was produced by FNM and Matt Wallace - while Steve Berlin (of Los Lobos) was drafted in to supervise. Ahead of it's time - reinventing keyboard driven guitar music - with genre shifting complexity, the record forced the music industry and press to think up a completely new class to describe it coining the phrase 'funk metal'. For fans it is the foundation of FNM's sound, raw punk and funk energy that would be polished and expanded over the band's next five albums. Fans of the album include Robert Plant, James Hetfield, members of Korn. Press Release FAITH NO MORE is not to be confused with faithless. This iconoclastic quintet believes in just about anything. INTRODUCE YOURSELF is a demonstration in all that is forsaken. Chaotic power is infused with an emotional undercurrent that gloriously crests and mercilessly crashes. INTRODUCE YOURSELF is a dare made with two clenched fists. FAITH NO MORE was christened in 1982 and managed to operate from a San Francisco / Los Angeles base. Singer Chuck Mosley was anchored in Los Angeles and would commute to and from San Francisco, where the other prophets resided. In December of '85, FNM recorded their first LP for Mordam records. An obligatory tour followed and they returned after spreading their cacophonous beliefs across the U.S. The hardships of travelling this expansive continent in a '66 Dodge and stolen Jartran trailer is what they endured to establish their name on college radio and dance charts. Mission accomplished. FNM converted a few folk with the tune "WE CARE A LOT". With its pounding backbeat and unforgettable chorus, "WE CARE A LOT", displays cynical naivety using haughty lyrics and edgy bump and grind playfulness. It was re-recorded for INTRODUCE YOURSELF, with updated lyrics that address today's pressing social issues. Taking their dance antics into a rapturous philosophy is "ANNE'S SONG", which holds a solid bass groove while it bobs and weaves through lacerating drum punctuations as if crossing a mined field. The songs "SPIRIT" and "DEATH MARCH" obliterate notions of naivety and cast a melancholy shadow around FNM's confrontational perseverance. INTRODUCE YOURSELF leaves no room for passivity. Credit the fact that this contemptuous posse have very different and varied histories. Keyboardist, Roddy Bottum, joined FNM after 10 years of classical piano training. Drummer, Michael Bordin preferred the tribal, primitive rhythms and was studying African drumming when he was recruited. Guitarist, Jim Martin, enlisted after a bout with Vicious Hatred, a San Francisco metal band. Singer Chuck Mosley, grew up listening to Motown and was inspired by Devo. Billy Gould had been playing in a band with Chuck and cites the Sex Pistols and Germs as his main role models. These volatile influences assail each song, affirming FNM as the sonic touchstone for each individual member. INTRODUCE YOURSELF is a record that bridges the extremes. It is the acknowledgement and unification of everything between heaven and hell. Witness the riveting alchemy FNM possesses on INTRODUCE YOURSELF. Reviews Sounds | 03.10.1987 | ★★★★★ Neil Perry FAITH NO More hail from California. Their members include a classically trained pianist, a guitarist who served time in an obscure San Francisco metal band called Vicious Hatred and a drummer who was studying African rhythms when Faith No More recruited him. The result is as powerful and as full of nuance as you could possibly hope for. 'Introduce Yourself', the band's second album, is chiefly concerned with extremes; emotional, lyrical and spiritual. It combines metal thunder and hardcore rap and dance floor polish and, believe me, it moves. Hell, even Metallica wear their t-shirts, and there's a band who appreciate the finer points of punishing musical power. From the blend of 'Chinese Arithmetic' - twangy funk and total onslaught - to the mutated hip hop of 'We Care A Lot' ("It's a dirty job but someone's gotta do it") FNM make a type of music that escapes any of our beloved little boxes. Their words are mostly personal and painful, coming to terms with all sorts of situations, and are backed by some of the most vengeful guitar and drum attacks to have made it onto vinyl this year. With 'The Crab Song', FNM almost boil over ("love. It hurts, it kills, like a motherfucker. Like a sonofabitch") yet this is nothing compared to the two tracks that follow (and close the record), the freedom charge of 'Blood' and the punkish fury of 'Spirit'. Enough. Faith No More say "KICK and SCREAM!" I say buy this record. Sounds | 1987 Steffan Chirazi BITTERNESS. ALCOHOL. Skate-boarding. Anger. Jim Martin (guitar), Bill Gould (bass), Mike Bordin (drums), Chuck Mosley (vocals), Roddy Bottum (keyboards). We're Playin' a little game of 'association' here, and all the above have one common, binding link... the Faith.Oh I know that you lot don't know what the bloody hell this is all about, but believe me I ain't religious, it's obsessive and extremely caustic. Each is a vital component of one of the best oiled new cogs on the big new music wheel. Introduce yourself... Faith No More. Now I don't as a rule push my luck with employers, but when Boss Banon murmured something to me about not being too sure about his FNM pre-release tape of the spanking debut LP 'Introduce Yourself', things had to be said. "Don't be so damn stupid man," I thundered, eyes bulging down the fragile transatlantic line, "put the bloody thing back on now and listen to it loud and stop being so .. .so.. .so measly!" The guitar. A grinding weapon, a swirling mass of six-string aggression, signs of the Sabbath creeping in, yet not without a small dash'of the mighty Metallica here and there. But as if to contradict that, within those very same grooves be the most haunting, melodic and poignant keyboards. Add to it all a murderously solid rhythm and a voice that could become one of 1987's great wailing larynx's and you have here a band that are certain to interest everyone from mincing wimpos to stomping death thrashers from hell. " Washington Boulevard, East Bound....33, can I get a transfer man? 95 cents fuck you I'll skate to the beach. And I'll look better getting there." The start to the song 'Death March', complete with Martin and Bordin beating bongos behind Chuck's melancholic tale of woe in LA. Faith No More believe in themselves, they know it's tough, but they will tour the USA for three months in a hire truck to get there. That's why they are enjoying a sudden delayed surge of interest in the USA. The albums already been our for some three months there. Here in Blighty, London records have only just released the aforementioned LP. But with FNM being new to Europe, I guess you wanna understand just where the faith is coming from. Let's start in LA 1980 with Chuck Mosley and Bill Gould. Both were on the LA circuit, both in an LA band looking for the breakthrough. Chuck was always going to be in a band. He too was in LA, and having sober school days with Fishbone and played in Alice Cooper's Hollywood Vampires baseball team, t'was inevitable that he would join up with Bill and look for that magic mix. Gould had gone to catholic and grammar school with Roddy Bottum, and Bottum had trained as a classical pianist....the third member was there. Mike Bordin was plucked from Berkeley University, where he was studying the arts of African rhythms among other things. Add a guitarist to this lot, and you have the first solid incarnation of FNM, a band based in LA and SF.The guitarist at the time was not working out too well. Cliff Burton (late Metallica bassist), a long time pal of Bordin's and Jim Martin, repeatedly suggested that if they were unhappy they should try Jim. Everyone knew weirdo Jim. Jim the strange. Jim the erratic. Him the brilliant malevolence behind Bay Area punishers Vicious Hatred. And one day Cliff's advice was taken, Bordin was reunited with his old pal and the real missing ingredient joined the melting pot. The Faith as we know it today was born. The heavy gigging started in earnest, FNM finding big college radio interest throughout the USA. They were signed by SF indie Mordam Records and released a self titled debut effort done on minimal budget, which received wide acclaim from the underground. The States and it's various piss hole clubs were seen from two transit vans, while FNM's underground following grew and grew via the performances. sometimes in places akin to broom cupboards. Faith No More hit college 'God' status for life, weaselled into dance charts and hooked Metal fans with their blatant volume and crashing rhythms. "I'VE ALWAYS really been my African beats and styles for their intensity," explains Mike Bordin, "and slowly I think the other guys got to see that there's a lotta power in that style. Bill's picked it up too, and it certainly makes for a stronger song." Bordin further states the advantage of having Martin, a guitarist who could become some sort of perverse 'axe hero'. "Visually we just do our own thing, we don't ever try and rehearse. And before anyone asks us about our hair (Bordin and Bottum have big, puffy dreaded lumps of hair), it's like that 'cause we want it like that. It's just us, not a 'band look' or anything pussy like that. We do things for us, and I guess that's the bottom line." It is a recent development that has seen the bigger boys leap for the Faith. Bob Biggs, president of Slash Records (the label for Los Lobos, and a Warner Bros affiliate) took a huge likmg to the death-charged, bombastic power of FNM, and signed them quickly. He gave them a budget, had Lobos' Steve Berlin co-produce, and got a video on MTV for the first US single. 'We Care A Lot'. BIGGS, the man behind much of the early LA punk scene, has openly declared his faith in Faith, and London Records snapped them up for European distribution. The latest word is that Warner Bros might very well take Faith all to themselves. The final icing? The interest of Quiet Riot manager Warren Entner, who has just undertaken officially management duties. Moreover, FNM aren't about subtlety. "Subtlety is for old people," drawls Jim, "subtlety is for people who blow their noses into handkerchiefs in the bathroom. We're not subtlety 'cause we blow our noses through OUT mouths onto the sidewalk. No way are we in with that subtlety shit. The record company mentioned that our record had to have a subtle sleeve, so that what I said back. I'm doing the next sleeve though." If you see a guy with a bottle in a brown paper bag, a pencil and sketch pad, it's Jim Martin. If you see an example of human combustion in front of you, chances are that person was listening to FNM. They tour Britain soon: the feeling live is just as painful but much more pleasurable. Introduce Yourself is the next big thing early. Classic Rock | January 2017 Rap, heavy metal, post-punk, new wave and funk. Somehow, someway, Faith No More made sense of these five tricky musical ingredients on their second album, Introduce Yourself. While quite a few alt rock bands of the same era were starting to lean - albeit cautiously - towards the 'rockier' side of things, FNM were one of the first bands of the genre to feature unapologetic Sabbath-style guitar riffing, from the great Big Sick Ugly Jim Martin. A re-recording of the title track of their debut album, We Care A Lot, earned FNM their first bit of radio/MTV play, the title track was their most explosive yet, while Martin's guitar was front and centre on The Crab Song. Add singer Chuck Mosley's on-key/off-key vocals to the mix and you had a daring sound unlike anything else circa 1987. #faithnomore #introduceyourself #fnmhistory

Thirty years ago Faith No More were on tour in the UK supporting The Real Thing, their first album with Mike Patton. Kerrang | Issue 287 | April 1990 Finger Licking Good! by Phil Wilding "FUCK OFF you stupid Goth! Typical f"kin' Goth!" The not so, genteel six foot plus of Faith No More T-shirt to my left raises the obligatory finger at the bottle black haircut 10 foot ahead. With little prompting and a degree of luck, he's managed to elevate himself up to stand on his mate's shoulders, miraculously avoid the almost perpetual torrent of plastic bottles and cups rained upon him, and by way of celebration is swivelling around like an alarmed windmill with a cog seriously amiss. Mike Patton fails to notice any of this. He's trying his hand at Audience Participation: "Could you all snap your fingers like this?". He holds out his arm and exaggerates a brief finger-clicking motion. "Hey, Mr Soundman, they all snapping their fingers at the back?" Indeed. "Wow". As if by way of thank you, 'We Care A Lot' comes careering in all punch and happy homicide. The Glasgow Space Cadets go craaaazee, and Windmill goes down like a house of cards hit by a concrete block. Before I boarded my plane, a Scots native in exile told me there was nothing quite like a Glaswegian welcome. A remark I've heard a thousand times before, from a hundred different sources, about god knows how many different towns, venues, from people who were looking back. The Glaswegian hardcore stems from the lip of the stage to the very rear of the hall. In a barn as humid as the Louisiana springtime, they didn't let up for an instant. Faith No More received the kind of welcome that couldn't have been more elated or passionately heartfelt had they been raised in nearby George Square rather than the Bay Area. Finally, the 'Real Thing'. FNM bathe in it and bow to it under the rainbow dazzle of their metal rectangle of the lighting rig. Patton, bare torso and a white towel over his head, legs spread apart, has a stance and delivery aligned more to the degrees of intense rap music than anything like hard rock. He annunciates a little like Robin Williams: "You eat your haggis this morning?" to a chorus of good natured jeers. "You gotta eat your haggis, otherwise you won't get big and strong...". Where the cue amongst that lot is I've no idea, but 'Surprise, Your Dead', hits me straight in the face as forcefully and emphatically as a jealous slap. Then there's a brief commotion up my side, one that I mistake for a fight and step back expecting to watch the dull punches and heavy intrusion of security. Instead, there's a girl, no more than five foot being dragged out of the furious crowd. For the moment it looks as though she's stopped breathing, her boyfriend doubted over her still form. Then the air comes out of her in sobs,she's okay, and 'Epic' is a starting gun shot from the stage. A pair of upturned legs form a surreal "V" close to the front. Baseball boot soles reaching towards the white diamonds of the curved ceiling. The band throttle 'Woodpecker From Mars' resolutely then return to the impatient stamping and cheering with the wonderfully absurd 'Zombie Eaters'. 'War Pigs', not surprisingly, rumbles as a dirty finale, with its heavy kick the final stamp over the sodden, sold-out Barrowlands. An echo repeating above the warm mist rising from the crazy, stinky, sticky crowd. FNM and their audience deserve each other; and they both deserved exactly what they got. Set List From Out Of Nowhere Falling To Pieces Introduce Yourself The Real Thing Underwater Love As The Worm Turns The Crab Song Edge Of The World The Morning After Chinese Arithmetic We Care A Lot Surprise! You're Dead! Epic Woodpecker From Mars Zombie Eaters Death March War Pigs [ Black Sabbath ] #faithnomore #therealthing #glasgow

EPISODE SUMMARY A socially distanced Mike & Jim continue talking about Faith No More's 1995 album King for a Day... Fool for a Lifetime EPISODE NOTES It's 1994. Jim Martin has been fired from Faith No More via fax, Mr Bungle's Trey Spruance has taken his place on guitar, Roddy Bottum is absent from most the songwriting and King for a Day is the result. Featuring discussion of: Star A.D., Cuckoo for Caca & Caralho Voador. KFAD talk begins at 55:38 Email: podcastcroissant@gmail.com facebook.com/podcastcroissant Instagram - @podcastcroissant Twitter - @podcroissant fnmlive.com faithnomorebook.com douglasesper.com #faithnomore #podcastcroissant #kfad25

Mike Bordin guests on The Trap Set with Joe Wong and Billy Gould guests on The Vinyl Guide with Nate Goyer. Mike talks with Joe Wong about his life in music starting with his early love of Black Sabbath, meeting Cliff Burton and his drums teachers. He describes how Epic changed his life and the commercial success of FNM. Mike Bordin delivers trance inducing rhythmic patterns with earth-shattering power. This inimitable style places him in the pantheon of all-time great rock drummers. Mike and Joe discuss: Mike's journalist grandfather who worked as editor of The Milwaukee Sentinel; how Mike and his childhood friend, legendary bassist Cliff Burton, began playing their respective instruments together; how music saved Mike's life; how he developed his explosive drum technique; the steady trajectory of Faith No More; hanging out around Tony Williams; playing with Ozzy; and Mike's preference for living in the present. Bill talks with Nate Goyer on his amazing podcast about Talking Book II and Koolarrow Records. The two also touch on Bill's history with early FNM. Billy Gould has always charted an unconventional direction. Today he shares about his vinyl history, his label Koolarrow Records and his experimental project "Talking Book" whose new LP is getting the vinyl treatment in limited numbers. Oh yeah, and check out Dubioza Kolektiv! #faithnomore #mikebordin #billygould #talkingbook

On April 18th 1988 Faith No More released their second single Anne's Song. The song featured on their sophomore album Introduce Yourself. 'A dancing 12 inches of pure abnormality that rips around the room accompanied by one of the finest voices ever to come out of a broken vocal pipe. It just bludgeons its way along hitting everything form its path and grinning inanely while doing so. One day all absurdities will be made this way. Single of the week. Brilliant.' - Sounds 1988 The lyrics to Anne's Song stand out on Introduce Yourself due to their first person setting and autobiographical content. Written by Chuck Mosley with a little help from Roddy Bottum they tell the story of Anne..... 'Anne, dagnabbit, island princess...' But who is Anne? A while ago we asked Chuck this question before and he enlightened us. "Anne's song was quite simply, a pep talk that i got from my friend Anne, when I was down in the dumps about not getting along, or seeing eye to eye with my band mates at the time. It's also an introduction to all of our friends and family in New York, an epiphany about making the best of any situation, and appreciating what you have. I could be wrong, but I think that if I had applied the advice to my situation better at the time, things might have turned out different, but, no regrets..." Who better to discuss the lyrics to this song with than the subject, Chuck's dear friend Anne D'Agnillo. How far back do you and Chuck go? How did you meet? Chuck and I go back to 1979. We met while working together at the NUART Theater, a revival house type of movie theater. Did Chuck tell you he was writing a song about you? No, Chuck never told me he was writing a song about me. I heard it first after it was done and dusted. It was an incredible and surreal experience hearing it the first time, on a car tape deck.... trying to catch the lyrics that sounded already so familiar.... Like "....do whatever the hell you want to do. Now is the time when you can do anything. Everything you do, anything, it will still turn out great. You've got the world at your feet." Did he use artistic licence or are these words of advice you uttered to Chuck? Hahaha - Chuck did not use artistic license with those lyrics! That is the advice I give most often, to this day, to anyone who will listen. How did Johnny, Vinnie, Lucy, her boyfriend and Jamilia feel about being made famous by FNM? Everyone in the song basically just jumped into it for Chuck! If it worked for Chuck, we were in. We were thinking of keeping Chuck famous..... Did you have the hots for Ricky? I still have the hots for Ricky- that’s my husband’s name! You are of course in the video, where was the party shot? Only half the video was shot in my apt. Only Chuck from the band was in the part filmed here. There is also Vinny, Jon E Edwards, Clara Pollini, Leo Klein, Toots and Stan, Judy and Jimmy, Lucia ( Lucy), and Subee..... The song was rarely (if ever) performed by Mike Patton, it is Chuck's song as well as Anne's. How did it feel seeing him perform it with FNM in 2016? I really wish I had been there in 2016. I love the version. It was an honor to hear it and feel the glow.... We all miss him. What do miss most about Chuck? What I miss the most is his unconditional love.... he was a very loyal friend for almost 40 years. And I miss the inside jokes, the nicknames we would assign people, the mean girls moments. Hehehe..... #faithnomore #annessong #introduceyourself #chuckmosley

In recent times we have seen Bill Gould involved in some rather unique projects. He produced Rockabul - a film about musical freedom in Afghanistan. He wrote accompanying prose for paintings by Balkan artist Slavko Krunić in the book Mausoleum of Perfection. Musically he has provided bass and production skills to Chilean hip hop on the latest Cómo Asesinar a Felipes albums and returned to his heavy roots guesting on Shane Embury's Tronos record. Talking Book II is no exception to this uniqueness. Bill and Jared Blum met in 2005 - standing in line for a sandwich on Hamburger Tuesday in the Lower Haight. After working together on several projects the two developed a musical connection and in 2011 released the first Talking Book album. The original record is an abstract expressionistic recording - dark and atmospheric with rich textures and distinctive melodies. Bearded Magazine described it as having, 'the melancholy, sepia-toned feel of a faded old photograph found in a strangers house, full of old ghosts, almost-forgotten memories and a real sense of encroaching decay.' Talking Book became a trio when they were joined by Dominic Cramp to perform the music live for dates in the U.S and Chile. Gould, Blum and Cramp now return with a follow up offering available via Koolarrow Records on April 24th. Talking Book II is an experience. It is a journey which plays like the soundtrack to a yet unmade film. It is an album for those with imagination as the music succeeds in conjuring up vivid and chaotic images. The beauty of having a soundscape with no accompanying visuals is that this enables the listener to create their own personal imagery. Rather than bringing characters to life these sounds set scenes in vast hallucinatory landscapes. The scenes and moods set by Talking Book II could be that of science fiction, thriller, horror or spaghetti western. Like all great movie accompaniments Talking Book II builds suspense, creates unsettling tension and shares euphoric and triumphant moments. It’s hard to pick tracks that standout as the the album plays as one continuous narrative, however the first track Blood Aurora has decaying tones and haunted piano sounds similar to those found on the first album. On track two Thermal Drift, the music reaches new realms with otherworldly noise reminiscent of Vangelis’ 80’s synthesizer themes. As well as cosmic noise there are organic and earthy sounds. The trio themselves tell us that the music describes the end of a civilisation, this is best illustrated by the track The Last Time She Died through which the antiquated grainy tones will exile you to a baron and crumbing landscape. Each track introduces fresh sounds, and even though there are moments that are not too dissimilar from the stark soundtracks of John Carpenter there is always a complex sonic layering of undefinable noise beneath. The track Early Sorrows is exhilarating and the unexpected acoustic guitar of closing track Absent Horizon would play perfectly over the credits to this fig-mental movie. You should go into this expecting to be transported into other worlds and realms of imagination. Best heard alone on earphones and with no distractions. This is the perfect soundtrack to accompany the current world climate, a soundtrack to distract you, a soundtrack for the end of the world as we know it. Talking Book II will be released on April 24th via Koolarrow Records, to download and on 12" vinyl limited to 500 copies pre-order HERE. #talkingbook #billgould

Happy birthday to Faith No More guitarist Jon David Hudson, 52 on April 13th. Guitar World | June 2015 "A former bandmate introduced me to FNM 1989. Then Bill helped me out with a demo after they did Angel Dust. I got the feeling things were not working out with Jim. Bill gave me a demo tape to work on at one point. I worked on several songs and sent them to him, but they ended up working with Trey, which was the right decision." "Bill called me in early 1996 and asked me if I would be interested in joining the band. I didn’t audition, I just jumped in and started working with Bill. I gave him a cassette full of ideas and some of them wound up on Album of the Year, which was really exciting." Total Guitar | July 2015  "I was in a band in San Francisco called Systems Collapse, and the keyboard player knew Bill and the other guys, so I met Bill when Faith No More was out touring The Real Thing. It was becoming apparent that things weren't working out with Jim after the Angel Dust tours, so I wasn't surprised when they agreed to part ways. Later, Bill sent me some of the demo stuff for King For A Day. I recorded some ideas and sent them in. They were auditioning different guitar players at the time, and they obviously decided to work with Trey, which I think was a good call; he was perfect for that record. "I was pretty familiar with the band and Bill's sense of direction in terms of song writing and his approach with guitars. So, by the time he called me in early 1996, and said, 'We're in the middle of coming up with material for this next record - we were wondering if you'd give it another shot?', that was the perfect opportunity for me. "You have to be in the right place at the right time - you have to consider yourself very fortunate when an opportunity comes up. People can say, 'You have to have talent.' Sure, that's important, but there's no shortage of very talented people. You have to remember that if you do have these opportunities, you're lucky." "I grew up with probably the same guitar hero influences that everyone else did, and then it just branched out from there. Everyone in the band has a pretty wide range of influences. We just end up trying out as many different things as possible, just to see what we can actually pull off live and what would actually make the set interesting and what not. So, we'll throw in things that other rock bands either might not get away with or don't try to get away with. "It's more that different styles have interested me over the years. I love classical and jazz music equally [as much as I love] rock music. That all comes out later on as far as working with things creatively [is concerned], and coming up with ideas. It all adds to it, as opposed to simply saying, 'I want to incorporate this jazz element.' I don't really think of it like that; I just listen to a lot of different music." Guitar Player | August 2015 "The most obvious thing I can say is we’re incredibly fortunate in that regard. The band has a loyal following of people that are receptive to what the band does. Not every band can get away with what we get away with. I don’t mean in antics, I mean in terms of the sound and the approach. What the band does wouldn’t work for everyone else. I think we just do what we do and we do that whether there are 50 people out there or 5,000. We got a great reception after such a long hiatus. We came back and there were people out there that were bringing their kids to the show and their kids are now fans of the band. It had been quite a while, and we’re really lucky that we still have this big following. "  FaithNoMoreFollowers.com | June 2016 "Well, the success with the new album is largely due to the support and dedication from the fans everywhere who really make it happen for us. We're continually reminded of how fortunate we are in that regard no matter where we end up on tour. It isn't something that we take for granted. As for the rest of it, I don't think that you'd want to put too much emphasis upon whatever accolade or praise that comes your way. You have to be your own guide and determine whether or not something has met your expectations. Besides, the next time around, you might only be getting brickbats for your efforts, so you need to rely on your own judgment throughout." #jonhudson #faithnomore

It might have taken 18 years, yet Faith No More are finally on the eve of releasing their stunning new album, Sol Invictus. But then rock's freakiest band have never done things by the book. In a UK exclusive Ian Winwood delves into their ever weird and wonderful world. Little Chop of Horrors Words by Ian Winwood Photos by Daniel Boud At a few minutes past seven on a midweek evening in March, Mike Patton's voice breaks the silence of a transatlantic telephone line and promptly breaks a heart. In a voice that sounds as if it's batteries are running low, and with what sounds like a scarcely stifled yawn, one of modern rock music's most unpredictable, creative and enigmatic talents announces that, following a busy day, "if I've got no energy [left], then you know why". Then again, it's possibly difficult to imagine quite what Mike Patton might say that could adequately encapsulate the significance of Faith No More's return, not just playing songs in a live arena, but also - finally - with a brand-new album, their first for 18 years. The members of the band may now be well into their middle years, but much of the music they have made is as timeless as it is influential. If you're not sure of this, then consider what modern rock music might sound like if this always-odd San Franciscan quintet - with their fearless flashes of colour and panache that helped tear down the crap of 1980s mainstream rock music and replace it with something bolder, and altogether weirder had never existed. But Mike Patton is unlikely to put it quite like that. As it is, he proceeds to tell a story, in a roundabout kind of a way, about how Faith No More dragged themselves out of what seemed like permanent hibernation in order to grace European festivals in 2009. Following their break-up in 1998, the once-warring musicians were brought together for the occasion of keyboardist Roddy Bottum's wedding, where they, "I don't know, started enjoying each other's company again... started telling stories again, like old men do... we were like old buddies sitting down playing backgammon." This is good, you think, the idea of middle-aged men sharing war stories at the wedding of one of their number who just happens to be one of the first openly-gay musicians in modern rock music (a revelation that, when it came in 1993, caused no upset among rock fans whatsoever). So, Mike Patton is asked to describe the scene at Roddy Bottum's wedding. Pause. "I'm sorry, man, I'm not understanding you. Can you repeat the question?" Roddy's wedding, what was it like? Was it a nice day? Were you all wearing tuxedos? Did you get drunk? Was there a band playing? Little details, so I can set a scene. Pause. "No, sorry, I'm still not getting this." Mike, can you describe for me what Roddy's wedding looked like, please? Pause, "it was in his parents' house. And he was getting married. And I don't know." I promise, I'll be out of your hair before long. No pause at all. "I hope so, motherfucker." Into the silence that hangs between London and San Francisco, Mike Patton laughs. It seems he wasn't entirely pissed off after all. He just wanted to keep us guessing. This is what Mike Patton does. Mike Patton keeps you guessing. This, too, is what Faith No More do, even today. They keep you guessing and they keep themselves guessing. For one thing, they kept themselves guessing as to what kind of band Faith No More 2.0 was destined to be. At first it seemed as if this most unlikely of reunions was, like Rage Against The Machine, destined to take the form of the 'nostalgia turn', where a once revolutionary band puts its legacy into mothballs by dragging its songs around the world without feeling the need to record any new material. For bassist Bill Gould, this approach was fine for a time, but soon enough "just getting together to play the old songs and only the old songs felt like going to work", felt like something "that wasn't always the easiest thing to do". "That kind of [nostalgic] mentality is probably what's getting us our gigs," he admits, probably correctly. "But I don't know how that helps us as a band, really. Because just going out and playing the old songs is not something that I want. I feel that there are places for us to go [musically] that are interesting and cool." As it turned out, the other members of Faith No More's musical base - a base cemented by drummer Mike 'Puffy' Bordin and guitarist Jon Hudson - agreed, and the musicians set to work recording a song "unbeknownst to me", says Mike Patton, before adding, "Well, sort of." The musicians then presented Mike with their first new song of the 21st century, a point from which a new album would eventually blossom. "I flipped out when I heard the new collection of music," reveals the singer. "I didn't know what it was going to sound like, and it totally took my head off. I thought, 'Well, I'm gonna at least try to contribute to this." "There were times in the past 10 years when I definitely thought that would never be the case," he continues. "I'm sure you could pull up all sorts of quotes from me where I'm saying, 'We'll never make another record again, I never want to be a part of that ever again.' But, you know, circumstances change. And it's nice to be wrong; it's nice to admit when you're wrong. And I was wrong! I did not know that this band had more statements in them. Believe me, I was as surprised as anyone when I heard this music and realised that I wanted to be a part of it." Faith No More's first studio album in a generation - the first since 1997's Album Of The Year - is sensational. Released next month, Sol Invictus takes all that was good about the band's musical high points from the past -the power, the combustibility, the sense of constant pressure and tension - and reframes them in a manner befitting both 2015 and a quintet in their late-40s and early-50s. Along with Soundgarden, if any group were able to successfully wrestle their former selves from the 1990s into the present day, then it seems obvious that Faith No More were that band. Odd, then, that while enthusiastic, the early word on Sol Invictus from those who heard it came drenched in a sense of relief. "A lot of people are afraid of us making a new record, and I get that," says Bill Gould. "There's a template to this, I think: You were a good band, you break up, you get back together and you put out a shitty album. But we tried really, really hard to resist that template. We kept our minds sharp and we still have a lot to offer.But people like the stuff we did in the past," he adds. "We're older now and they're afraid of what we might put out as an older band. They're worried that the music we might make today might not hold up. But even if this new record fails, I'm still a lot happier doing something creative and productive than I am just going to work and playing the old songs." What Bill Gould is referring to is what he and Mike Patton would never dream of describing as their band's 'legacy' - a legacy that as seen in the pages of this magazine is truly profound. It is a legacy that also stretches back more than a generation, and has its roots in an entirely different musical age. The first time that Faith No More appeared in the British press was an appearance in the pages of Kerrang. The band themselves were not interviewed or reviewed; rather, their name appeared on a T-shirt worn by James Hetfield of Metallica.  At the time Metallica were not the biggest name in metal, but they were definitely the most influential, and in the pre-internet age even a passing endorsement from them was itself sufficient to start a buzz. In 1986, however, there wasn't a great deal to report. Faith No More featured on guitar James Hetfield's friend Jim Martin - who had played  alongside the then-Metallica n bassist Cliff Burton, in the group Trauma - and were at the time fronted by the flat-voiced Chuck Mosley. They had a debut album titled We Care A Lot (1985), the titular track of which flirted deliciously between irony and sincerity, pop and rock. Unbeknownst to everyone, in four minutes and eight seconds it lit a slow-burning fuse that would help explode much that was rubbish in modern rock and metal at the tail end of the 1980s. But it wasn't until Faith No More's third album, 1989's The Real Thing, that things began to get serious. Now fronted by, the impossibly cherubic, not to mention young, Mike Patton, The Real Thing would eventually explode like a cherry bomb in a sewage factory. The Matt Wallace produced set may have taken more than six months to appear on even the lowest rungs of the U.S. Billboard Hot 200 album chart, but when it did - propelled by such singles as From Out Nowhere, Epic and Falling To Pieces - the album would, by the end of its initial life cycle, be certified platinum with sales in excess of a million copies in the United States alone. From here, the path was straight and true. All Faith No More had to do in order to elevate themselves to the levels of the multi-platinum Jet set was to play the game and to keep their mouths shut. This, the group defiantly declined to do. Supporting Guns N' Roses on a tour of European stadiums in 1992, Bill Gould described the caravan to Britain's Select magazine as being "a real ugly personal experience, having to deal with all the shit that surrounds this fucking circus" When it came to releasing new music, Faith No More had an even nastier surprise in store. Today the band's fourth studio album, Angel Dust, is widely viewed as a timeless classic the influence of which was nothing less than pre-ordained. So pivotal is the music contained within, in fact, that today it sounds almost like a mainstream album. But in 1992, the year of its release, Angel Dust's sheer unpredictability horrified all but the band's most hardcore constituents, as well as causing bemusement among the press corps. In commercial terms at least - at least at the time the album was a failure. "That album kind of fell flat on its face!" laughs Bill Gould today. "Actually, we've had a few of those. And, in a way, that's kind of helped us, because things that fell flat on their face in the short term have proven to have been successful in the long term. So, I think we realise that we can trust our own instincts and that things will be okay in the long run." In the short term, however, in 1992 and 1993 Faith No More were suddenly deprived of the music industry's helping hands. Radio stations no longer played their music, and Music Television -this being a time when MTV actually played music videos - ignored their latest album in a manner that was the polar opposite of the ubiquity with which it had aired the videos for the singles from The Real Thing. Armed with no alternative, the San Franciscans toured themselves into the around. Come the end of the tour in support of Angel Dust - an appearance at the inaugural Phoenix Festival in Stratford Upon Avon in 1993 - the band were physically and visibly exhausted. "At the time, you have to think of it in its context." recalls Bill Gould. "At the time. our music really wasn't very radio-friendly. So, we toured a lot; just to survive we had to tour. And we toured a lot everywhere, and for a long time. And if you don't start putting limits on how long you tour and what is healthy for the band long-term, you get exhausted." "One of the things that poisoned us in the past was feeling that we had to take every single thing that was offered to us," harmonises Mike Patton. "So, to retain some measure of sanity, and your peace of mind, you have to learn to say 'No'. I know that's not sexy, but it promotes a good feeling, and a feeling of being grounded and having some power... I want the band to be happy. I want a good environment." How are you going to achieve that? "We're still figuring that out, my man." In conversation for this cover story, both Mike Patton and Bill Gould are keen to stress the near-miracle that is the advent of a brand-new album from Faith No More. It's not just the music, you understand - it's the whole commitment to the cause. You see, when the group simply operated as a touring caravan that pulled up at the backstage areas of European festivals, the group could exist solely as a part-time 'friends with benefits' concern. They didn't have to deal with each other on a creative basis, at least not really. They didn't have to awaken dogs that had long been allowed to lie. And they certainly didn't have to talk with journalists. They just had  to take the money, play the old songs, and run. And now... "I haven't made a Faith No More album that hasn't been extremely difficult for me personally," says Bill Gould. "It's like a birth-giving process... When you decide you go down that path there's a lot of baggage that goes with it. You're taking on more than making a record. We're doing press now, whereas we went for a few years without having to do interviews; we're touring now, and we're trying to keep from burning out of other things that you have to judge, too, when you go through that decision of making a record. And so we all had to feel 100 per cent cool with that. It has to feel right," So, are Faith No More a harmonious outfit these days? "We're focused," says the bassist. And what's the difference between focus and harmony? "Well, we are harmonious, I suppose," he supposes. "Right now we're very solid." All of which is just as well, because next month, with the release of Sol Invictus, Faith No More will once more do what they do best: they will put themselves at risk. They will put their new music up against the old. By heading out on a two-month American tour, prior to their Download Donington stop-visit, they will put their new selves up against the dysfunctional gang of the 1990s. And in stretching their limbs into the present tense, they wilt with great panache smash the glass under which they had allowed themselves to be pinned. "You're behind glass when you're dead," says Mike Patton, dismissing the very idea. "I don't think any of us are interested in being in a museum. Especially not now." What would rock music sound like if Faith No More had never existed? Mike Patton considers the question and answers: "The same." Come on, you can do better than that. "I'm not acknowledging our presence in this world." Why not? "Because we're irrelevant. We're dead. We're dinosaurs. We don't consider ourselves... I don't know... We don't consider ourselves period. It's just nice to be here. When I'm dead, you can ask my grandkids [about our legacy]." For now, all Mike Patton wants is for Sol Invictus "to be heard", for Faith No More "to play a bunch of shows", and that's "pretty much it" It all sounds quite unremarkable, and in one sense it is: rock band makes record and tours record. Stop the press. But in another sense, it is nothing but remarkable. For while Bill Gould is right to say that there are a number of people who don't want Faith No More to make a new album, there were also those of us that didn't want the band to reform without having done so. In this, it's a case of better late than never. The nostalgia scene never suited this band, and even had their seventh studio album, their first in so many years, been a dismal failure it would still have been better than nothing. But a dismal failure it is not. It's as stirring, as impacting and as unsettling as anything to which Faith No More have put their name. Welcome back. Awkward Squad. #faithnomore #solinvictus #kerrang

REVOLVER | April - May Issue 2015 Words by Dan Epstein Photos by Jimmy Hubbard For nearly two decades fans have been bugging their superheroes, the members of Faith No More, for a comeback. While they may have spent 18 years working on various side projects, the group assures us they aren't going away anytime soon. Mike Patton is a man who can eloquently expound on a wide variety of topics, ranging from Italian film soundtracks of the 1960s to the 2015 pennant prospects of the San Francisco Giants. But when it comes to the enduring legacy of Faith No More — the groundbreaking, genre-mashing band Patton fronted for a decade in the 1980s and 1990s — well, that's a conversation he would prefer to avoid completely. "Don't start with that shit, please," he laughs. "Legacy? That's for people like you to determine, not me. I've got nothing to say about it. We're a band. The music should speak for itself, and hopefully it will. Legacy, dude? Legacy is something you talk about when you're dead—and I'm not dead yet." No, Patton is thankfully not dead; neither, for that matter, is Faith No More. Having unexpectedly reunited in 2009 after an eleven-year layoff, the band—which opened ears and warped minds with albums like 1989's The Real Thing (which contained their massive MTV hit "Epic") and 1992's Angel Dust—has now doubled down on its rapturously received reunion tour by unleashing another surprise on an unsuspecting world: Its first new album in 18 years. Titled Sol Invictus, the 10-song album — which, along with Patton on vocals, also features the talents of bassist Billy Gould (who also produced it), keyboardist Roddy Bottum drummer Mike "Puffy" Bordin and guitarist Jon Hudson — holds its own beautifully with the rest of the band's impressive back catalog. Unlike so many "reunion" albums by so many other well-known bands, Sol Invictus doesn't smack of nostalgia or reek of cash-in. New songs like "Motherfucker," "Superhero," "Cone of Shame," "Sunny Side Up," "From the Dead," and the title track are all quite clearly the twisted work of the same band that produced 1997s brilliant Album of the Year, but without any obvious attempts to connect the sonic or conceptual dots back to any previous Faith No More record. Sol Invictus simply stands on its own, an elegant, cinematic and alluringly dark work that draws upon the band members' unique creative chemistry, yet never chases the tail of their past glories. "If there's anything that's thematic of what we do," says Bottum, "it's not having an agenda. No one set out with any intention to sound a particular way, or to do anything that would achieve something; we just set out to please ourselves." "When you hear the old stuff compared to this, it really is different," says Gould. "There's been a lot of water under the bridge since Album of the Year. We just checked in to where we were at right now, and that was it. And that's kind of how we've always done it." "We're very conscious of the sort of rock cliché of bands getting back together," says Patton. "You know, doing it for the money and just regurgitating shit. This record is not that. What did LL Cool J say—don't call it a comeback?" he laughs. "This is just a different band with the same ingredients." Getting those ingredients together in the same pot was no easy feat, however. In fact, with the exception of the Commodores ballad of the same name that the band recorded in 1992 (and which has often popped up in the band's set lists), "easy" is a word one rarely associates with Faith No More.From their debut album—1985's We Care A Lot — onward, the Bay Area-based band remained stubbornly resistant to any and all outside efforts to pigeonhole or paint them into a particular stylistic corner. Metal and hard rock were always part of the FNM equation, of course, but so were Bottum's arty keyboard flourishes, Gould's prog-funk bass runs, Bordin's methodical drumming, and an acerbic and satirically-minded aesthetic that skewed far closer to Frank Zappa than anything their late-80s contemporaries like Guns N" Roses and Metallica (both of whom tirelessly championed Faith No More) were laying down. The more complicated, challenging or conceptual their music was the better, "We've always made it more difficult for ourselves." Gould laughs. "If it comes too easily, we feel like we're cheating. or something." After 1987's Introduce Yourself became a cult hit, the arrival of Patton in late 1988 — replacing sacked original vocalist Chuck Mosley — heralded a bright commercial future for Faith No More. Handsome, charismatic and possessed of a jaw-dropping vocal range, Patton almost seemed to jump through the camera in the video for 'Epic', the rap-metal blast from The Real Thing that became a surprise Top 10 hit in summer of 1990, and which eventually helped it's parent album go platinum. But much to the chagrin of Slash Records, the Warner Brothers subsidiary that Faith No More had signed with, Patton turned out to be just as artistically uncompromising as his new bandmates. "When we had The Real Thing, and we had our success, there was all this 'encouragement' from the label and other people," Gould remembers. "Everyone was telling us that we should just keep going with the funk-metal thing, because it was something that the public bought real easily, and it was something that could be worked. And I think we've always resisted looking at our music that way." "Our reaction to outside suggestions was always like, total middle-finger," laughs Bottum. "We would always be like, 'Nope, nope, absolutely not.' For no other reason than to not give people what they wanted. We were really good at not giving people what they wanted!" Faith No More responded to the success of The Real Thing by releasing Angel Dust, which Entertainment Weekly memorably called "probably the most uncommercial follow-up to a hit record ever." But while the album's complex arrangements and dizzying stylistic reach scared off a lot of newcomers who were hoping for The Real Thing, Part 2, it also bolstered the band's rabid cult following among more adventurous listeners—especially overseas, where the album (unlike in their homeland) actually outsold The Real Thing. Faith No More went even further "out there" on parts of 1995's King for a Day... Fool for a Lifetime, which incorporated smooth soul jams, free jazz and gospel into the mix. "We'd always say, like, 'If you're not feeling uncomfortable, then it's not worth it.'" laughs Patton. "There were some songs that we did back in the '90s, or whatever, and I remember going, 'Ugh, I don't know if I can do that!' And Bill or someone else would say, 'Hey, man, just try it!' And that taught me a lot." Faith No More's fearless pushing of boundaries came at a cost, however, as did the intensity of the band's workload. Bottum nearly left the band due to a heroin addiction, and original guitarist Jim Martin — who'd become increasingly vocal about his unhappiness with the band's musical direction — was fired m 1993. Trey Spruance, the guitarist from Mr. Bungle, Patton's first band, played on King for a Day, then quit rather than commit to the extensive touring that followed the album's release. "It used to be that we would go out for a year and a half at a time," remembers Bottum. "We would tour right through the holidays, pretty much every day of the year, setting stuff up, doing soundchecks, playing shows..," "We always played music that was a little bit odd. compared to what else was coming out," adds Gould. "So in order to survive, we made up for that by touring like crazy back in the day. It burned us out, and we handled adversity and challenges differently than we do now." Adding to these challenges was the cumulative creativity of Faith No More's individual members, which was simply too volatile and varied to be contained by a single band.-In 1989. Gould formed Spanish-language grindcore/death metal outfit Brujeria with Fear Factory's Dino Cazares, which released its first album in 1993; Bottom formed the indie-pop quartet Star 69 (soon to be renamed Imperial Teen) in 1996, the same year that Bordin began touring and recording with Ozzy Osbourne; and Patton, who had continued to record and tour with Mr. Bungle, also embarked upon a variety of other projects during the mid-90s, including collaborations with avant-garde composer John Zorn and the 1996 solo album Adult Themes for Voice. Breakup rumors abounded, but the band managed to reconvene for one more album, 1997s acclaimed Album of the Year, this time with Jon Hudson, an old friend of Gould's, filling the guitar slot. Another world tour followed, but the strain of it all finally became too much. "The music business was different back then," says Gould. "Band survival was driven by record sales, for example, and keeping the record company motivated. And it was really tough, because you think that YOU need to be doing this work to survive, and if you stop, you'll be back an the street. You don't feel in control of what you're doing. And that's a tough place to be—when you're working really, really hard and you don't feel like you have control of your destiny." On April 19, 1998, the members of Faith No More made a bid to regain control of their individual destinies by breaking up the band. Gould sent out a press release announcing the band's mutual decision to call it a day. "The split will now enable each member to pursue his individual project(s) unhindered," read the release. "We broke up under pretty shitty circumstances," Bottum recalls. "We'd gone through so much together, doing what we had to do to get from Point A in the back of a crappy '66 Dodge, to a point where I don't even know how to set up my keyboard stand, because somebody sets it up for me. To get from Point A to Point B is a really long, long road. And for people, good friends, to get from that point to that point at the age that we were, it was really, really a strain on relationships. So by the time we broke up, it was kind of like we never really wanted to see each other again," he laughs. "I mean, that's where we were! It was kind of like going through war together—working together, making decisions together, doing finances together, making art together, living together—it was so much more difficult than any marriage would be, or any friendship would be. It was just really hard on us. So by the time we broke up, it was like, 'Enough!'" Whenever any well-loved band breaks up, the question of "When are you getting back together?" inevitably becomes part of the conversation. With Faith No More, the odds of a reunion were slim, indeed; though the band's legend and influence continued to grow after its demise, FNM's four core members all seemed happily active in their post-FNM lives. Gould and Patton both started their own labels, Koolarrow Records and Ipecac Recordings, in 1999; Gould went on to produce a wide variety of bands, and collaborated on recording projects with Korn's James "Munky" Shaffer and former Dead Kennedys frontman Jello Biafra, while Patton's discography (which includes several albums with his bands Fantomas and  Tomahawk) seemed to expand on almost a weekly basis. Bottum continued to record and tour with Imperial Teen, and got into film scoring; Bordin continued to play with Ozzy, and also filled in for David Silvera on Korn's 1999-2000 tour. "Everybody just went in different directions," says Gould. But in 2009, Faith No More surprised the world by announcing that they were reuniting their Album of the Year lineup to play some tour dates in the United Kingdom. "We hadn't seen each other in 10 years," says Bottum. "So when we kind of came back to a group place, everyone was 10 years older, 10 years more mature; everyone was really like going out of their way in a crazy, over the top way to ask, 'Are you okay with this? I'm cool with this, are you?' We were making room for each other's creativity in a real grown-up way," he laughs. "Whereas, where we started was just such a bratty place to be, you know?" "The Second Coming Tour," as it was dubbed, eventually took the band around the world in 2009 and 2010, though they played only a handful of dates in the United States. "When we first got back together, there wasn't actually a lot of interest from promoters in the States in bringing us out," Gould explains. "It was weird, how we're perceived in the States is so much different than in the rest of the world. We have a lot of fans in the States, but the media and the promoters primarily see us as this one-hit wonder that had a hit in 1989, or whatever." Musically, the band was stronger than ever, thanks to the additional decade of playing under their respective belts. Fans kept their fingers crossed for a new Faith No More album, but the band publicly pooh-poohed the notion, and was reluctant to even discuss the issue amongst themselves. Finally. frustrated with performing set lists made up entirely of old Faith No More songs and various covers, Gould emailed a file of some new music that he'd been working on to the rest of the band. "I kind of had to break that ice," he says. "Because nobody was talking about making new music. I know I brought it up, but the subject would always change. Nobody ever said no, but nobody ever said yes, either. So finally, I was like, I'm gonna say something—at least I'll know where we're at!'" Much to Gould's surprise, everyone responded positively to the track, which eventually became "Matador," the first new Faith No More song to appear in the band's set list in 15 years. "Honestly, 'Matador' felt so obvious." says Bottum. "Not in a bad way, but like a comfortable shoe. It felt like somewhere we go typically as a band. We have this language among the four of us that's sort of unique and inherent to people who sort of grow up together; we have a go-to language that we all relate to really well. So hearing it was like, 'Oh yeah, that. I get it!'" Inspired by the positive band (and audience) reception afforded "Matador," Gould began working with Bordin and Hudson on additional demos for what would eventually become Sol Invictus. "I was very shocked to hear that they'd been working on stuff," laughs Patton. "One night a couple of years ago, I was hanging out with Bill, and he was like, 'I was Just working on some stuff. Do you want to hear it?' He played me some stuff, and I was like, 'This is fucking great!' He was like, 'Well, would you like to sing on it?' 'Well yeah, of course!'" "I didn't even know that it was Faith No More music, at first," Patton continues. "But then he told me, 'No, this is stuff that I wrote for us!' And I was a little taken aback... I didn't know what to say I was flattered, put it that way. I was like, 'Damn! You wrote this shit thinking of me? Like us?' Because my head wasn't even near that space; I was somewhere else." "Relationships are complicated — put it that way, okay? Maybe some lines of communication [between us] hadn't been exactly open. But I was beside myself, like, 'Oh my god, yeah! Of course! I know exactly what to do!'" With Patton and Bottum on board, the tracks for the new album painstakingly came together. The music was recorded in Gould's home studio/practise space with Gould producing, and then sent to Patton, who added his vocals at his own home studio. What resulted are truly the most unfiltered Faith No More recordings ever, made without the help [or interference] of any outside producers, studio hands or record company executives. "We didn't even have an engineer when we recorded it," exults Could. "It was just us. There was only one other person who came in, and that was Matt Wallace, who finished the mixing. Having an extra perspective and an extra set of ears was really important at that point, and Matt goes back with us back to 1982 — he's like a family member" The new album takes its title from a Latin phrase meaning "unconquered sun," which was also the name of a Roman religious cult that remained active for several centuries during the Hellenic period, despite the attempts of the authorities to stamp it out. Bottum feels the phrase applies nicely to Faith No More, as well. "We just won't go away!" he laughs. "And when you think about where we are, and what we've accomplished over the course of so many years, there's a timeless, regal, etched-in-stone quality of that title that really works for us." Like the unconquered sun. Faith No More will once again fan across the globe in support of Sol Invictus. The year-long tour will thankfully include dates across middle America, and will also include a significant portion of the new album in its set lists. Because, as Patton notes, they didn't work their asses off on Sol Invictus just so they could go out and play "the hits" again. "Basically, we wouldn't have done this if we didn't think it was better than the shit we did before," he says, "or, at least, taking us on a new Journey. We still feel like there are musical statements to be made. For some reason, there's still a genuine musical impulse here, a genuine fucking fire in this bunch of fucking 50-year olds [laughs}. And that's why we did it. It's kind of liberating being away for so long and then doing a record, because it's like. 'Hey, you know what? We can get away with anything!" "I don't know what people will think of it," Patton continues, "but I can tell you one thing —we're really fucking happy with it. If people think it's some kind of half-hearted comeback, or some limp-wristed fucking attempt at becoming 'hip,' then they can kiss my ass. We've Just gotta do what we're good at, and I think this record is maybe the best example of us doing that that we've ever done." #faithnomore #solinvictus #revolver

tētēma's follow-up album to their 2014 debut album Geocidal was released today via Ipecac Joined by violinist Erkki Veltheim and drummer WIll Guthrie in quartet formation, this record continues to employ the wayward orchestrations and arresting physicality of their 2014 debut Geocidal, yet is renewed by a melodic language which grounds it's multi-coloured twists and turns in hallucinatory lyricism. Where Geocidal was loosely based on futuristic post-colonial dystopias, its even cheerier successor is sculpted around isolation in the surveillance age; and although lofty/high-concept sounding, this is still an intensely fun and heavy listen. Necroscape synthesizes a lot of territory: odd-time rock, musique concrète, otherworld grooves, soul, industrial noise, microtonal psychoacoustics….seemingly strange bedfellows on paper, yet in the ears they surprisingly coalesce into 13 songs which playfully challenge our notions of sonic logic and make you move at the same time. In a nutshell, listening to Necroscape creates the weird sensation of exclaiming "of course!" and "wtf?" simultaneously. Pateras describes various tracks. Solioquy, “No other band would combine microtonal buchla with hyperactive drumming to serenade Paganini and Leonard Cohen passed out in a hot tub. This track is like pressing fast forward on both a [Giacinto] Sclesi and Yasunao Tone CD on different systems pointed at each other, except it’s performed live. Quite possibly the only track in the world to refer to Deleuze as ‘chichi.'” Wait Til Morning, "Peter Gunn on methampetamine with RD Burman as co-pilot, being pursued by Madlib through an early 80s London industrial estate. This was one of the first songs we wrote for the new album, and probably played a big part in convincing us doing another would be a good idea. It is the only song on the record with a drumless chorus; like a lot of our music, the drama is upside down." Haunted On The Uptake, "Sounds like The Melvins' tour van broke down in the Balkans and instead of going home, they decide to open a mountain laboratory dedicated to possible hybrids of Rembetika and hardcore. This sounds like the pop music of a youth I wish I'd had, but instead I grew up in the suburbs of Melbourne smoking bongs and listening to Bungle." #tetema #mikepatton #anthonypateras #necroscape

You can now hear the third taster from Mike Patton and Anthony Pateras' upcoming collaboration album Soliloquy follows the release of Wait Till Mornin' and the first single Haunted On The Uptake. The duo's second album, Necroscape, will be released via Ipecac on April 4th. [Pre-order] #mikepatton #tetema #anthonypateras