Today we wish Mike Patton, the man of a thousand voices, a very happy 52nd birthday. The last decade has been a thrilling time to be a Patton-fan. A decade which featured the Resurrection of Faith No More and Tomahawk. The introduction of new projects such as Nevermen, Dead Cross and tētēma - to name a few. A decade which witnessed Patton’s mastery of film soundtrack compositions. A decade of countless memorable live perfomances. 2019 to 2019 was exceptionally Patton-tastic and Mike has remained the most hardworking and busiest he could possibly be. To celebrate his 52nd birthday and recent career in music we have selected some highlights from the last ten years. 1. Faith No More Reunited (2009) On February 24th 2009 Faith No More announced they were to return. Patton - who had previously been dismissive of the band, sometimes even disgusted at the idea of a reformation - embraced his reaffirmation with FNM and took to the stage with the perfect balance of passion and mischief. There are so many outstanding moments from the Second Coming Tour, from scaling the stage constructs to regurgitating shoelaces, from commandeering cameras to wrestling security. "I think that this Faith No More reunion taught me a pretty good lesson: 'Hey, these things that you've done in the past aren't your enemies.' They're not something to run away from but rather something to just understand. If I'm going to write a piece of music tomorrow, I'm not really going to understand it for another 10 years -maybe, if I'm lucky! The reunion with Faith No More was a really eye-opening experience because it taught me how to appreciate the music that I've done from a distance. When you're in it, you're too close. When you're writing it, it's still like a part of you." - Patton 2013 You can read in detail our article A Decade Of Faith No More 2009 - 2019 2. Mondo Cane (2010) In 2010 Patton and his label Ipecac Recordings released the maestro’s most ambitious project. The Mondo Cane album involved an orchestra, a fifteen-piece band and a choir. The ensemble recorded a collection of Italian pop songs over which Patton would exercise his skills singing in a second language. Patton's 'love letter' to the country he had spent much time in during the late 90's was first realised in 2007 with three live performances in Italy. It was from the audio of these shows that the album was pieced together. "I had a gigantic list of really great songs and I had to sort of wind them down to what I could sing, what I could translate, what I could pull off. Anyone can put together a list of favorite tunes, but the real trick is — and the key is — to come up with something you can pull off and interpret in your own way. Not all of my favorite tunes would I want to touch. If it’s perfect already, why f— it up?" - Patton 2010 Patton would perform Mondo Cane at various concerts in European and South American countries over the next decade. All of these concerts were spectacular, however special moments were at Teatro Caupolicán in Chile (2011) and at Teatro degli Arcimboldi in Italy (2019). 3. La Chanson de Jacky (2012) Scott Walker‘s cover of Jacques Brel‘s La Chanson de Jacky was re-recorded by Secret Chiefs 3 Traditionalists and released as a 7" single, before appearing of the album Book Of Souls: Folio A in 2013. This wonderfully slick and chest-puffed out version illustrates Patton’s ability to deliver a flawless performance without taking himself too seriously. Trey Spruance’s label Web Of Mimicry describes the release: It's a stunt simultaneously ill-advised and absolutely necessary for a band like Secret Chiefs 3: Traditionalists to undertake -- and one that could only be pulled off with someone uniquely qualified to take command of the vocals. Who other than the maestro Mike Patton, in this day and age, to do justice (and then some) without insult to such a preposterously Spartan legacy? 4. Tomahawk - Oddfellows (2013) With countless projects on the go 2013 was indeed a special year for Patton-fans. Tomahawk’s future was uncertain after the band released Anonymous in 2007. However in 2013 Patton, Duane Denison, John Stanier and Trevor Dunn made a comeback with their fourth studio album Oddfellows. It was a return to more traditional song formats but with that touch of weirdness we learned to expect from this outfit. Intricate off-beat rhythms, schizophrenic vocals, killer riffs and dark sounds - an amazing addition to their catalogue. "... a kind of first-take urgency, a feeling that, whenever you get these guys in the same room, this music-- this lurid, thorny, profoundly weird music-- just comes tearing out." - Pitchfork During 2013 Tomahawk embarked on a social media documented world tour which included a rare live TV performance on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon. 5. Live with Björk (2013) During the 2010s Patton toured not only with his group arrangements but also made many one off appearances with other artists. Patton performed Laborintus II with Luciano Berio and Ictus Ensemble in 2010. In 2011 he joined Sepultura onstage in Brazil at Rock In Rio 4. He collaborated with Eyvind Kang at Sacrum Profanum Festival in 2016. Patton joined the Cavalera brothers and The Dillinger Escape Plan for a shows in 2017. In 2018 he performed Forgotten Songs with pianist Uri Caine on two nights in Modena, Italy. In 2019 Patton and DJ Qbert were guests at David Lynch's Festival of Disruption. The list goes on... However the guest performance that has made it into this list occurred in 2013 at Craneway Pavilion in Richmond. On this unprecedented occasion Patton joined Björk for the first (and only) time onstage to perform their duet Where Is The Line?. 6. Zorn @ 60 (2013) During the last decade Patton collaborated on various recordings and made various appearances with his mentor John Zorn. In 2010 original Mr. Bungle members Patton, Trevor Dunn and Trey Spruance were coerced by Zorn to form a group under the name of Cobra who performed in San Francisco. In May 2013 Mike joined Zorn’s 60th birthday celebrations at Warsaw Jazz Festival in Poland and Moers Festival in Germany. Each night had a performance from The Song Project and Moonchild, both featuring Patton. In September of the same year Zorn presented Patton's solo voice performance Six Litanies for Heliogabalus Litany IV at the Temple of Dendur in the Sackler Wing at the The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. 7. Fantômas RockOut Festival (2014) It seems that the lucky people of Chile get all the extraordinary shows, from FNM presenting King For A Day Fool For A Lifetime in full to Mondo Cane back to back shows. December 2014 saw Fantômas reform after a five year absence and join Primus and Devo at RockOut Festival in Santiago. Patton's band performed The Director’s Cut in full. Buzz Osbourne, Dave Crover (filling in for Dave Lombardo) Patton and Dunn also joined Tool, Primus and Clutch for a one off show in San Bernardino in 2017. 8. Faith No More - Sol Invictus (2015) After six years of live shows with little evidence of new material FNM finally released their seventh studio album on May 19th 2015. Sol Invictus was FNM's first album in eighteen years and was arguably the most anticipated recording of Patton's career. "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." - Patton 2015 9. Kaada/Patton - Bacteria Cult (2016) Collaborations have always been an important weapon in Patton's arsenal, he seems to always find the perfect companion to enter the battlefield alongside. After a seven year break from such partnerships in 2012 Mike recorded Laborintus II with Ictus Ensemble. In 2014 he released the album Geocidal under the name tētēma with Australian composer Anthony Pateras, and the long awaited Nevermen record - with Tunde Adebimpe and Doseone - followed. In 2019 Patton explored French mood music with Jean-Claude Vannier on the album Corpse Flower. Our pick for this list is the second record with Norwegian songwriter Kaada. Bacteria Cult was the follow up to 2004 album Romances. It warranted only rave reviews with it's majestic and often terrifying cinematic tones. "...it dwells in The Twilight Zone where spooky and seductive meet." - John Kaada 10. Dead Cross (2017) Patton ascended to the ranks of Dead Cross  - joining Lombardo, Justin Pearson and Mike Crain - replacing original singer Gabe Serbian. The band's self-titled debut album was released in 2017. The whole album has a retro thrash metal vibe with a modern twist, it is an exhilarating punch in the throat that leaves you with a satisfying bruise or two. Enough to please hardcore and Patton fans alike. "The players in this group fit together like a bizarre music puzzle coming together to make one chaotic, beautiful music masterpiece." - Chuck Vans Radio A world tour followed throughout 2017 and 2018. Patton proved at 50 he could still destroy a stage delivering both an energetic and brutal performance. Even an altercation with a skateboard - which resulted in Patton being hospitalised and proved to be one of the biggest stories of the decade - didn't stop him. 11. 1922 (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) (2018) This decade has seen Mike Patton's talent as a composer of film scores flourish. He began in 2009 with the Fantomas-esque soundtrack to Mark Neveldine and Brian Taylor's Crank 2: High Voltage. In 2011 Patton provided music for The Solitude of Prime Numbers, an Italian drama directed by Saverio Costanzo. Patton followed with the musical accompaniment to 2013 crime tragedy film directed by Derek Cianfrance, The Place Beyond The Pines. Our choice for soundtrack of the decade is the collection of creepy sounds Patton wrote for Netflix's adaption of Stephen King Novella 1922 directed by Zak Hilditch. It would seem the more films Patton scores the better he gets. Here is our playlist of some the best Mike Patton recordings from the last ten years. #mikepatton #faithnomore #mondocane #tomahawk #bjork #johnzorn #fantomas #kaada #deadcross

Should MIKE PATTON cut the crap? Does RODDY BOTTUM need to come out of the closet? Does BIG JIM MARTIN treat women like dirt? And are FAITH NO MORE a mess of insecurities, attitudes and extravagant contrasts congealing into a thrilling whole... or just another rock band? Not an 'Easy' question to answer, reckons GINA MORRIS, as she spends a week in France with America's premier scatological strew-ups and wonders why such a nice boy like Mike Patton feels the need to swig his own piss and shit in a hair dryer. NME | 03.01.1993 | Gina Morris Faecal Attraction Mike Patton is urinating. Not into a urinal, not on the street and not in private. Mike Patton is pissing onstage - in front of thousands of people - into his shoe. Then, with a coy smile, he lifts the brimming vessel to his lips, opens his mouth and drinks the boot dry. Less than two weeks later, in the small village of Besancon, France. Patton is casually making coffee on stage. Freshly percolated cups of coffee for his sweat-sodden, dehydrated crowd. Faith No More are all about extremes. Severe extremes. Faith No More - an archetypal rock band? - release an opulent new single and it's a straight-faced, straight-up cover of The Commodores' 'Easy', so beautifully unscathed that it stupefies the majority of the audience every time they play it. FNM are a twisted fairy tale with no real plot and no conclusion, just a dense subtext of symbolism and a multitude of characters. No-one has ever managed to disentangle them, to go beyond their reputations, to de-mystify them. It's a daunting task. FNM thrive on tortuous perplexity, to the degree that it has become both their drug and the only unifying factor in the band. It's a bind so tight, it hurts - hurts itself. And it's ugly. The rock pigs, the perpetrators of myths, the groupie- shaggers, the dumb fuckers, the lads. It's all there if you want to see it. The band themselves have surpassed all hope of ever being truthfully represented. Now they're just enjoying the ride. They've perfected the art of confusion. So Patton will continue to be the jerk who grew up into a wanker, Jim Martin will continue 'abusing' women, and nobody will ever even think about asking keyboardist Roddy Bottum what it's like to be a gay man in a rock band. Right? "To me," he says calmly, "throughout our career, the representation of the band and the way I've been portrayed everything has been so homosexual every we've ever done. I've portrayed some absolute blatant, stereotyped homosexual. I've been the boy in bondage, the sado-masochistic cop, the homo-cowboy. I mean. I've been so blatant about it - it just blows me away that people don't pick up on something like that. Y'know. what am I supposed to do? Hit people over the head with this? That hurts, right? It hurts your head and it's an insult to people's intelligence." Roddy and I are having lunch in a hotel restaurant in Paris. The idea is to interview each member of the band separately, because, as Patton later confirms: "We wouldn't communicate. It would be a lot of misfiring, uncomfortable jokes and a lot of sarcasm." He's dead right When they're all Together, they whine on in nonsensical gibberish which makes it impossible to glimpse anything like a stereotype. So I've stolen Roddy and he's stealing a forkful of my creamed potato and, in his soft, laid-back, winsome American drawl, continues to talk about his sexuality for the first time into a tape recorder. "If I'd ever been asked about this before, l'm sure I would have been completely open about it. I mean, I cannot be embarrassed about this. I told the others I was gonna talk about this as soon as I knew you were gonna ask me about it. I told them I was going to be upfront and they said, 'OK. do what you gotta do'." So do you think the reason it's been ignored is because homosexuality isn't supposed to have a place in 'rock' music? "Maybe. The thing is. rock stereotypes are so ugly. Pop stereotypes are not so bad but rock ones are hideous. It's like the Queen thing - I don't know how old I was when I started listening to Queen, but even back then it was so apparent to me. There's these four guys playing in a band calling themselves Queen and singing opera music, pretty much, and then people have the audacity, years later, to say Freddie Mercury never came out of the closet. "Y'know, it's like, get with it. I think it's a symbolic thing, people are not picking up on those symbols, I don't think that's so wrong either. I think people can get away with seeing a movie that's chock full of intense symbolism and deal with it on a strict pleasure level. It's just a different level. "I mean, if people don't pick up on the band's subtleties or the band's jokes or whatever we put across and they're enjoying it for other reasons, then I'm not sure if that's wrong. In an ideal world I'd love to think people understood what we're doing, but it's not going to be like that. I'm flattered that people like it on a gut level." Are you aware of the power you have being a gay person in a rock band, particularly when you consider the genre's ignorant and archaic values? "I guess so, but there's a certain disgust in me about wearing my heart on my sleeve and being as blatant as that. I think it's an insult to peoples intelligence. I absolutely understand and sympathise with the gay community against backwards views on homosexuality in this day and age, but in Los Angeles, where I come from, it's so liberal, open-minded and experimental. I forget what an island it is and how spoilt we are. I guess I just take it for granted. " You were pretty blatant when you wrote the lyrics to 'Be Aggressive'. "Ejaculation. Tribulation.  I SWALLOW. I SWALLOW." "Yeah! I mean, HELLO, WAKE UP! When we wrote that song we were all very aware of the lyrics, we had it all in check and then the issue has never come up. It's so funny, no-one ever even asked us about it. It's the same thing, we just expect a lot more from people." Roddy Bottum is charming and sincere but, like the rest of the band, he'll occasionally seize the opportunity to wind up a susceptible victim - and this causes problems. Maybe some people don't get the message, because FNM tend to respond to people like a mirror image, reflecting dubious personality traits and firing them back. It's a way of dealing with the adulation bestowed upon them. "I just have to be as down-to-earth as possible," admits Roddy, "I sometimes catch myself being so absolutely stupid to these people, just to get the point across that I am nothing you are everything. OK? Realise that." Is it tricky keeping your feet on the ground? "Well, that's one of the  good things about the band, we all have strong sensibilities, probably because we re all so fucking sarcastic. We're pretty hard on ourselves and I guess everyone has that in check." Faith No More are not the egomaniacs they've often been made out to be. There's a reason behind, for instance, much of Patton's extreme behaviour. When he joined the band almost four years ago he'd never been away from home. He was a geeky. non-smoking, virgin teetotaller with appalling dress sense. A kid who did what he was told, played basketball for his college team and looked forward to his summer vacations. Going straight from home comforts to road traumas, he's had to grow up fast. This may not excuse puerile antics like shitting in a hotel hair dryer but, then again, he hasn't turned into a pompous asshole like Axl Rose. Patton means no harm really - unless it's to himself. "We're a band that encourages extremes." laughs Roddy, "so when anyone is doing things like that. I think: Well whatever you wanna do, whatever you wanna try - no matter how outlandish - just make yourself happy. Which is a healthy environment. I'm very proud of the extremes that go on in our band, I'm proud of the fact that Mike is like that. I'm proud that he carries a doll around a voodoo doll called Toodles and I'm proud that Mike Bordin would have us believe for two years that one of his best friends was killed (it was a lie!). That's such a bizarre thing, but extremes are what we're about." FNM also provoke a massive amount of misunderstanding. Earlier this morning, the band were handed the letters page of a rock magazine full of outraged letters in relation to a FNM feature, in which the journalist had translated Mike's comments on a child porn video (that he'd been given by a fan) as an endorsement of paedophilia. "It's kinda our own fault," shrugs Roddy wearily. "We assume too much. I mean, it's 1993 - don't you understand this? And the bottom line is a lot of people don't, and that bugs me. It's like, who do you cater your ideals to? Do you cater your ideals to a lower mentality or a mentality like your own, y'know? The worst thing is to have to simplify your values and act in a different way just so simpler people can relate to you. You can't do that, right? It's not optimistic, it's a backwards way of thinking." Mike Patton is slumped in a fake leather armchair backstage at the gig in Lyon. In one hand he holds a Martin Amis book, in the other he clutches a control console. Every few seconds a green light flickers across it and he flinches slightly. He's wired up to electric shock pads... switched to full power. This is Mike Patton's pre-gig relaxation period. Bassist Billy Gould is in the dressing room, alone, playing a guitar. He hears the door open, turns his head and smiles, "You wanna talk now? OK." Roddy and Billy have known each other for almost 20 years it was the two of them that decided to form the band. As kids Bill and Roddy would ride their bikes around the roughest, sleaziest parts of Hollywood Boulevard, trying to look cool. Two nice middle-class kids trying to live on the edge. Nothing much has changed now they just have further to fall. Do you miss Chuck Mosley at all? "No." Chuck was FNM's old singer. In his days, the band were closely linked to rap/thrash music. Then, he lost control, was replaced by Patton and the band released the more mainstream 'The Real Thing' LP. Hell immediately beckoned in the form of a Guns N' Roses support slot and - hey! - suddenly they were Rock. They did, however, escape hell with their souls intact. "I hate rock music." Bill spits. "I've always hated it. Like Led Zeppelin and stuff like that. I mean, my dad used to listen to that shit. It's the least interesting thing in the world, the excess and all that stuff, it's so boring. The world has gone through its period of exploration in that area. A stadium gig is fun to do once in a while, but that Guns N' Roses thing really got me down because it's as rock as it gets. It's the mentality I don't understand. I think it's disgusting. It's not natural, it's all role-playing. complete bullshit and I hate it when our band reflects things like that. "I mean, we do whatever we want to do and 'The Real Thing' was like an exercise in that. But we're still figuring ourselves out. We don't really know who we are yet, we're still learning. Hopefully, we're not burning too many bridges in the process." So how do you view the band? Is it like four of you against Jim Martin, the real rock element? "It gets more and more like that. I can see it more and more every month. I don't know how long you can keep going on like this, really. It's kinda ridiculous, it's like, what's the point, y'know? Actually, for all the shit I give Jim - and he deserves it - he's only doing his job." As if on cue, Jim enters the room. Billy smiles at him. It's a healthy animosity he has towards him, like when a friend tells you that you've got bad breath. Jim exits. Is Bill happy with Mike fronting the band? "Yeah. I think he's doing great. When he joined, he was living with his parents, he was 21 and had never been in a bar before. He didn't even like the taste of alcohol so, in three years or so, he's come a hell of a long way. I remember we were about to go on tour and he said: 'Look guys. I'd better get my summer vacation this year or I'm going to be real pissed off.' We were like. sorry but we're adults now, we work all year round, this isn't high school. He's kinda eccentric, y 'know?" Oedipus was the mythical Greek king who slayed his father and screwed his mother. It's also Jim Martin's nickname. And he's sat opposite me, chain-smoking, on the bottom deck of FNM's luxury coach heading towards Besancon and another show. Patton calls him a timepiece, a representation of an era, a broken record. Big Jim Martin, visually at least, is rock personified. He's the one the rock mags turn to. He's the living proof... and he's living at home - with his mother. "We have a whole house to ourselves," he explains. "She lives at one end and I live at the other. We pretty much do as we please, we eat dinner together, she comes home and fixes it." Don't you ever cook for her? "No, she cooks better than I do." Jim has the worst rock'n'roll reputation of them all. Does he consciously perpetuate it? "To a degree. If someone wants to exaggerate it, I don't tell them not to... Anyway, what is my reputation?" Y'know, chicks and pool. "Well. I do like those things." Big Jim Martin, the band feel, is more naive than malicious. He became close friends with L7 during their tour together and there's no way they would let him get away with any sexist bullshit Patton reckons: "He has a sharpened point to his personality that nobody else agrees with, but sometimes y'gotta eat shit and like it." So has Jim really ever taken advantage of women? "Certainly not. To take advantage would be a discredit to the girls, it would be like saying they don't know what the fuck they're doing. Y'know, we're all intellectual people and I would have to assume the women knew what they were doing." Have you ever felt that maybe they didn't? "Well. I always explain carefully: I'm here this evening to play a concert and I'm leaving tomorrow morning." Does it bother you that these women may only be sleeping with you because you're famous? "No, it's pretty much the case... though of course it's not always the case. It's difficult to tell." Would you prefer it if people wanted to sleep with you because you're you? "Absolutely not. If I wanna sleep with them. I'll do my best to get them in the sack. I mean, I haven't always been famous. You better your chances, sure, but it isn't always easy." I found a present for Mike Bordin in a post office in Lyon. It's a stamp. A stamp with one of Francis Bacon's self Portraits on it. He's ecstatic - we're friends for life. But Puffy isn't a get-together kinda bloke. He's amiable and affable just like the rest of them - he just goes to bed earlier, that's all. The band are about to go on stage. Bill is throwing up in the toilet. Jim is completely engrossed in his Game Boy. Roddy is sprawled full out on the floor with his eyes closed, Mike's strolling in and out of the dressing room pointlessly and Puffy is thrashing his sticks against a lump of silly putty stuck on to the edge of a table. How do five such different people work together? "Well, if you have people that are very different and very strong, then it's definitely a strength and it can make it a more interesting or more challenging brew," Puffy remarks without dropping a single beat. "That's not to say it can't work when everybody is the same, but we don't have that, so why pretend?" So how come people still assume you're a 'rock' band? "Well, forget about the inverts. We play rock music, in our way, that's the way it is. A lot of the others are uncomfortable with the position of being a rock band. Like a night like tonight will make some of them feel uncomfortable and guilty in a way." But you're happy with it? "l'm happy that we're playing our music to a lot of people and we didn't have to suck a dick. If that's all you wanted you could put together a band tomorrow - if you were conniving enough — but to get there in the car that you designed and built and laboured over, that's the satisfaction." Are you different when you're not with the rest of the band? "Oh sure, definitely, by definition, I don't spit as much." "OK, WHO SHAT IN THE ORANGE JUICE?" It is hard to find the art in Mike Patton's antics. To appreciate the beauty when the beast is shitting in your beverage. "Oh god, oh Jesus, I'm sorry," he wails. "It wasn't meant for you." Mike had been accused of "not fucking shit up" on the tour by L7. So he, erm, did. Mike and I are slouching on the sofa in the 'techno section' of the tour bus, on our way back to the hotel for the last time. It's 1 am, post-gig, and Patton's eating raw meat out of a plastic container and indulging in his favourite drug - coffee. The Cardiacs are blasting out of the speakers and Patton is highly amused how similar they sound to his other band, Mr Bungle. Mike has been avoiding my tape recorder for four days now. He doesn't believe there's much point discussing anything other than his various obsessions. He's become accustomed to being misunderstood by the press. "Writers paint pictures and they leave colours out, and what can I do about that? I can get upset and smash the painting, but that doesn't achieve anything. You gotta take it and you can't take it too personally because it's impersonal. It's very easy to get upset, but no-one feels better for it. Maybe if we beat up all journalists, we'd be good guys. How'd we ever become bad guys?" He chuckles, with a mouthful of beef. "There's just too many channels. I mean, we're doing an interview here. how are we really supposed to communicate any information to anyone? We re not talking to anyone, we're not looking anyone in the eye, this is almost cowardly really. "I don't think any of us have any desire to explain ourselves or be understood, it's no comfort, it doesn't make you sleep better at night, it's not what we're in this for. "The child pom thing? Well someone probably asked me what's the weirdest thing you've seen or what's the strangest thing a fan has given you, and that's indeed what it was. It was such a shock that something like that was handed to me by a little petite Japanese girl. But it's not about understanding, there's too many avenues, y'know. the story never gets told the same way twice." At least when you do disgusting stuff, like drinking your own piss, you generally only do it to yourself. "Yeah. Oh, I dunno. there's no logic behind it. I don't know who I am or what I'm doing here, that's what that is, it's the absence of logic. It's not something that's too easy to rationalise." .....Even if you wanted to. "Sure. I don't know how I can make anyone feel any better. We don't even know what the hell we're doing, we haven't even figured out what it is we do. We don't even know how we even relate to each other really, and maybe we'll learn, maybe we'll become great salesmen someday, but now it just doesn't compute. You should have to answer for what you do - you may not be able to articulate it - it's not a playpen where you get to do whatever you want and never take responsibility." Was it hard growing up in a band like this? "Yeah. I was a real terrified kinda student, so I always did what I was told. I still do." He smiles wryly, like we're supposed to believe him. Mike loves winding people up. He's into shocking people with his various obsessions his voodoo doll, his S&M fetish wear and his  weird books. If there's a target - he'll hit the bullseye. "Some people are easy targets and some people ask for it, so if you have a particular interest and you want to use it against someone then... here's a funny example. Jesus, God. See now, I'll talk about this and it's similar to the child porn story, basically it's like bad shit and I have it... oh f— it! I'm not gonna talk about it, it's too stupid. There's no morality in anything, y'know? What matters? That*s what I want to know - what matters? Does our personal life have anything to do with our music, however much seeps in? I mean, I don't even know, so how can I tell you?" Mike looks slightly flustered, even nervous. I've spent nine days in total with Faith No More, both in Britain and Europe, and he still doesn't trust me? "I do trust you. that's why I'm telling you this much. Okay, basically I think defensiveness or humiliation is a motivating factor in the way we behave, in the way we make music, in the way we relate to each other. Sometimes I think the way we manoeuvre is in a defensive way, rather than an offensive way. So all these people are saying, 'You're so offensive and you're trying to shock people to make a point and use it as a weapon, and it's not. It's not a step forwards, it's a diversion. We have no harmful intent." Mike looks down into his dinner. "It's really not even worth talking about. "It's just. when I'm on stage sometimes the mouth opens and, y'know. diarrhoea flows out. Anything I can do not to think on stage, I will do. Why? Because I don't think it belongs there. I've said some really bad things and gotten us into some really awkward situations and there are responsibilities." So you do care about Faith No More? "Yeah, I'm learning to. I didn't for a long time. I thought, what a horrible situation, it's candy coated, take it with a smile - for what it is - you can't take your time card and punch it out at the end of the day. You can't. I tried it and you can't." The bus pulls up outside the hotel and the rest of the band file into reception. Patton doesn't move. "No matter what you do." he says sternly. "You can't win." You can go now. "Arrh!" he cries. "The sense of finality!" #faithnomore #angeldust #roddybottum #mikepatton #mikebordin #billygould #jimmartin

The dance floor heavy metal of FAITH NO MORE makes them one of the prime contenders for '88 and the lyrics of vocalist Chuck Mosley penetrate deep into the human psyche. NEIL PERRY meets up with the Californian quintet on the Atlanta leg of their American tour. Making tracks MARY SCANLON. Sounds Magazine | 23.01.1988 | Neil Perry Hear My Train A'comin' Faith No More's wiry drummer, Mike Bordin, cuts himself off in mid-sentence as he surrenders to the dominating roar and clank of a huge locomotive which crawls past just a few yards away. From dusk to dawn you can hear the goods trains, ponderous heavy metal behemoths, as they punctuate the night with mournful wails from their horns. Mike watches as container after container rattles by, thick dyed dreadlocks bouncing as he walks, his mind more concerned with downing a few pre-gig drinks. "We got stuck here for ten days once," he resumes, "but we never ran out of guitar picks. We'd sit by the rails, putting coins on. Man, the train squashes 'em. flattens 'em right out.. ." The last wheels roll by, shaking the foundations of this modern American city. Trains or no trains, when you're in a band called Faith No More ten days is a long time. Late November '87, and the Californian based quintet have just arrived in Atlanta, Georgia, one date on a six week US tour supporting zany homegrown funksters The Red Hot Chili Peppers. 'Introduce Yourself', Faith No More's second LP (their debut unavailable in the UK) was released over here last October. A breathtaking harmonisation of molten metal guitar, deadly dance rhythms and poignant, pointed lyrics it was the sound of a band with no precedent. Introduce yourself, with a threat and a promise. Faith No More like playing in Atlanta. Much of the city was razed to the ground in the American Civil War, and - during the band's two day visit - smoke colours the sweet Georgia air once again, as Atlanta State Penitentiary is burned during the third day at a prisoners' riot. It was poetic justice indeed that the town's brothel was one of the few buildings to survive the Civil War unscathed and logical that when the world's oldest profession moved out rock 'n' rod should move in. Now it's a graffiti covered club called The Metroplex, and as far as Faith No More are concerned it is a spiritual home and their hotel for the night. They still have to prove themselves to their financiers before such a luxury as bed and breakfast is provided. As midnight approaches. Faith No More take the stage to what looks like a capacity crowd inside the dingy Metroplex. Live, they are energy, movement, malice. Within the space of two songs there is more sweat and lust and desire in the air than the building's former clientele could have mustered up in a week. Singer Chuck Mosley croons, cries and howls over juggernaut rhythms, exploding riffs and strands of hypnotic synth. From the opening 'Chinese Arithmetic' - a love song of dark splendour - to the closing insanity of Black Sabbath's classic 'War Pigs', the gathered Atlanta fans make a concerted attempt to injure themselves. As one so succinctly puts it, "F***, man! That band kick ass!" As the Chili Peppers boom above their heads, Faith No More - minus Chuck - gather in a dusty cellar. There's guitarist Jim Martin, professional drunk and party animal, Furry Freak Brother meets the ghost of Zappa past, Mr Deranged; keyboards player Roddy Bottum, the watcher, tall, handsome and dry, Mr Unflappable; bassist Billy Gould, amino-acid, pill popping soul-food fan, Mr Spaceball and drummer Mike, dark hawk features, wary and - as the others insist on pointing out gleefully - prone to bouts of deep bitterness, Mr Revenge. The band's history is the usual convoluted tale of comings and goings and various dodgy outfits, although Jim and Mike were in a band with the late Cliff Burton in his pre-Metallica days; it was he who gave vital encouragement and liquor when Faith No More took serious shape several years ago, and now this gaggle of disparate individuals find things are beginning to happen. Roddy leans against a pillar while the others sit, Jim swiftly relieving a beer can of its contents before speaking, eyes playful. "There's a story, the story, And you've got to tell it because I'm not qualified." But just as the going looked good after ten minutes of jokes, accusations and unhinged laughter-Jim berates Mike for knocking the tape recorder with his foot, and they fly into a brief and irrelevant verbal battle. Roddy and Billy look on, amused. "It's because we're sitting in this van every day hating each other," says Roddy, "and when we play it all comes out. We're not really nice people or anything,.. we just try real hard." Roddy occasionally helps Chuck out with the lyrics, such as on the twisted social conscience anthem 'We Care A Lot', a fine line between sincerity and sarcasm. "Yeah, are you full of shit or what?" chides Jim, eager to hear an explanation. "It is absolutely verbatim, liberal," says Roddy, unruffled. "It goes to the borders of what you would and wouldn't care about. It's what I cared about, at that time." Billy sits cross-legged on his chair, scratching at an exposed knee in jeans made more of air than denim. "On MTV there's certain videos I watch.. ." he says before trailing off, having possibly forgotten what he meant to say next. "Lack of sense of humour, that really pisses me off - that's good inspiration," continues Roddy. "People who are too stuck up to have a good time. They can laugh at us or with us, I don't really care." "F*** it man, there is no laughter!" screams Jim, his corkscrew mane jiggling wildly. "Billy, Mike and Roddy got together cos they were feeling down, so they could pool their strength and feel like big shots and laugh at measly shit. They asked Chuck to sing, who said. Just one show, which shows you how easily Chuck can be sucked in. .. He's yours depending on how well you tell the story. "I was in a shitty faggot rock band who sang about their dicks (Jim's previous bands include Pigs Of Death, Agents Of Misfortune and Vicious Hatred), I went to a Faith No More show and it was a pretty weird, ugly experience. I figured they could use my help." And yet for all their flippancy, sleeping rough and touring the States for six weeks in a cramped hire-van - with just Joe the all-purpose roadie to help out is not something you take on without some sort of faith. "We are absolutely f***ing serious! " Jim explains, with his best wide-eyed face on. "I really hate it when I go to do something," he continues, "and I'm stopped cold by some measly shit. Like, you go to fix the pipe and you haven't got the wrench! But we want to play bad enough, we'll do whatever we have to, you just go on stage and hurt yourself. I just want the heaviest sound possible. Oh, and unlimited everything. . , for ever." Jim and Mike claim absolute ignorance where Chuck's lyrics are concerned, and neither intend to change, both (un)happily immersed in their chosen roles. "Chuck's vocals aren't in my monitor? on stage, that's for sure," deadpans Mike. "I learnt drums from this guy, he had this philosophy, he gave me a different way of looking at drumming. I put a lot of hatred into it." Goaded by Jim, he sighs irritably Before Continuing. "The story? Well. . . things are a lot worse than they seem, you're all deluding yourselves, you may as well give it up. Slide down the ladder, give it all up." "You see, Mike's a bitter tittle man," says Jim, "but that's the first time I've heard that. I'm frightened! Chuck's pretty riled up all the time but he's like a poodle — highly strung." Roddy then tells of his and Bill's Catholic school upbringing, an experience they found so unpleasant that the two still find time, when at home, to pay the old nuns a visit, heads filled with thoughts of tyre-slashing vengeance. "I still hate them enough to go and torture them. Faith No More. . . it comes down to a lot of frustration." "I don't think there's any moral lesson to be learned from us," says Billy, grinning slightly. "We're pretty rotten people really. Assholes." Separating the truth from the humour is all part of the game, part of the band's voodoo charm. Watching these four screwy but hungry musicians - together one of the most exciting rock bands to emerge from America, period - cope with their oddball coupling is a story worth telling. "You know, it's a real pity you can't travel in the truck with us," says Mike, as the lure of the bar becomes too great to ignore any longer. "Yeah," enthuses Jim? "then you could really feel the bitterness. How bad do you want to suffer?" Mid-morning after the night before, and Chuck Mosley sits alone in The Metroplex, maybe wishing he'd stopped partying earlier and grabbed more than two hours sleep. He sucks on the soggy remains of a joint, trying to take the edge off the day, before ploughing through a sea of beer cans and paper plates in search of a more comfortable place to feel grotty. "Man, these rock stars who do coke for ten years, get shit-faced drunk every night and still get up and play. They get called assholes but I call them supermen - I couldn't do it." Chuck Mosley, cool but mischievous, keen on loud tartan suits, with features which could easily be described as beautiful: Mr Sensitive. He slumps by an upstairs porthole window and looks down on the railway line, behind the club at another monster engine creeping along the track. Part American Indian, part Jewish, Chuck was raised by foster parents, his first interest in music being a desire to play the Batman theme on a piano when he was four years old. "My natural parents? My Mum was 17. my Dad was 20—they lived in the valley, one of the white communities in LA. He was a musician, and her family had a Jewish doth business. This was 1959. one of the worst times to have an inter-racial kid. "I don't know how much they were in love, that's why I'd like to meet them. So they don't go through life with a problem in the back of their heads." Chuck's lyrics are a trip into the human psyche, and more often than not they deal with relationships, where the distinction between love and hate it is next to nothing. Onstage he will intimidate to get a reaction, his solo acoustic spot the night before being a perfect wind-up for the band's eventual electric detonation. "'Chinese Arithmetic', that's an obsession song. 'The Crab Song' they're different stories, stuff that people are thinking a lot conversations. The lyrics often come from listening to the music - like 'Death March', that had the music and title before the words. "A friend of mine, doing a lot of drugs, just went out in the ocean and drowned. I used to be on the beach all the time and I got the feeling that he was so f***ed up when he drowned that he doesn't even realise he's dead. He's out there, still swimming around. 'Death March' is someone talking to their dead lover, the soul lingering on." In common with the rest of the band, Chuck is more than quick to point out his own failings as well as those of his colleagues. "I'm probably capable of the worst things. I get really hard when people kiss up to me. I turn it around, I'm real mean. Anything can be true, I'll give them five different answers. But if I do something real bad I'll tell people, so it's off my chest. I was the class clown and all that shit, I don't have much confidence but i can act like I do. I'm too freaked out to have a girlfriend for a long time because of a love gone bad, gone sour. Like a scaredy-cat, I get possessive, paranoid. "Like this saving the world stuff, the only attitude I know is from personal experience." It was Roddy who suggested that without his hour on stage every night, Chuck would flip. He suddenly forgets his Budweiser sponsored headache, and quickly dismisses the bassist's accusations. "Shit! That's bullshit Bill doesn't know what he'd do, Mike would abuse his girlfriend - mentally, without even touching her - Jim would abuse everybody's girlfriends, physically and mentally. Roddy would go out, have a good time. I'd go skating, go to Europe see my friends. Play in my other band, ha! "Jim will tell you, my bitterness is that I gave up another band to be in this one for promises of millions just around the corner. Not that I was stupid enough to believe it, my only other option was moving furniture. And Mike, Bill and even Roddy will worry way too much about my shit when it comes to studio time." It's as if Faith No More is an endurance test, a big game of chicken; a fatalistic beast founded on mutual mistrust and alcohol abuse that should have chewed its own head off before a song was ever written. "Everyone's totally different," laughs Chuck, "even though we fight I'm closest to Jim because I can't stand phoney politician types. Roddy has a high, high, high boiling point. They hold their anger in too much. Jim lets it out on a regular basis, Mike will hold it in for ever- He is bitter, he wants to bring you down into his doldrums. "Mike and Billy are so tense! When I first Joined this band Billy would just rock out - I just bang my head because I don't know what else to do - and now he bangs his head. He stands like this (feet turned out, heels together, legs bent), his butt is so tight you can see his cheeks. Tight sphincter rock 'n roll! "He wants to construct things, he wants discipline. He's funny and I really love him. He's perpetually tortured by demons." As for whatever holds this zoo together. Chuck spends a while staring out of the window before answering. "Oppression. There is no soul. . . a band without a brain. If there's a soul it's a fight that guides me. It's people's miserable lives and stuff, mine included, when it's miserable it's a joke. "I'm proud of being part American Indian but I've got bitterness towards blacks as much as towards whites. I'm half Jewish but I hate Jews. I give out my love and hate equally." By midday Faith No More had emerged from The Metroplex, and it was the same band who made the most of the November sunshine, letting off fireworks and leaping onto passing trains before heading off to find some essential soul food. Faith No More have a good time they party, they fight, sometimes they laugh until it hurts - they are the furious sound of five worlds colliding. That's the story. #faithnomore #billygould #roddybottum #mikebordin #chuckmosley #introduceyourself