REVIEW: "Album of the Year" by Faith No More
- Chris Zuver
- Jan 6
- 12 min read
I discovered Faith No More four years after they had broken up. Once I had heard The Real Thing, I quickly bought the rest of their albums. It was also soon after I discovered the band, that I learned of their demise. I was disappointed that I hadn’t been hip enough in their time to see a show, but I devoured the music, nonetheless.
The last album I bought was their last release at the time, Album of the Year.
Now you have to remember, Sol Invictus, their 2015 comeback album was a far-off dream at that time. For the younger version of me, that meant that I was left with this 1997 release as the bookend to the career of one of history’s most awkward rock bands.
Where They Were The year was 1997. Album of the Year, Faith No More’s sixth album, came and went mostly without acknowledgement in its own time. That isn’t an unusual occurrence for albums in a world oversaturated with musical acts, but one has to wonder why?
To know why the album was heavily passed over from a band who seemed to be on top of the world less than a decade ago is to understand where Faith No More was both stylistically and in the thoughts of rock fans. And to understand that, one needs to understand what the guys had been through up to that point.
Faith No More rose out of the San Francisco punk scene in the mid-eighties. They were an awkward cross-examination of metal, punk, new wave, and funk. They received moderate attention in 1987 with the single “We Care a Lot,” which you can still hear on the radio today, but it wasn’t until the turn of the decade that things would really start to happen for them.
The Real Thing, the band’s third studio album, was released in 1989. The real fodder in the cannon was the introduction of the band’s’ new weapon: vocalist Mike Patton. Patton’s absurd and dynamic voice was just what the band needed to push themselves over the edge and into the spotlight. The single “Epic” became the biggest hit the band had ever had and probably ever would. To this day, it’s a staple on rock stations.
Following a couple of years later, Angel Dust was a harsh departure from the previous album. Patton’s diverse style of singing/screaming seemed to blend easily with the ever-growing caustic nature of the band’s sound. They stretched from the catchy funk/metal formula of The Real Thing into more complicated hard-rock and metal that was less concerned with hooks. It alienated many casual fans, but won new ones over with its unconventional form.
Now, it’s important to note that Jim Martin was on guitar duty for both The Real Thing and Angel Dust. However, he left after the latter album, which left a vacuum in the fivesome-turned-four.
By this point (the mid-90’s), the mainstream had started to forget about Faith No More. They would still make the airwaves sometimes when they released a single, but they didn’t receive the credit or album sales like they had closer to the turn of the decade. The Real Thing had gone platinum in the U.S. and Canada, as well as being ranked silver in the U.K. It sold over four million records throughout the world. Angel Dust, though not selling quite as many, still hit impressive worldwide numbers, coming in at over three million.
For their next album, King for a Day…Fool for a Lifetime, they went through two guitarists within the lifecycle of this album. Trey Spurrance, guitarist and fellow bandmate from Patton’s other band, Mr. Bungle, joined for the writing and recording. Yet, before they set out to tour in support, he left and was replaced by the band’s former roadie, Dean Menta.
Also notable on the album is the relative absence of keyboardist Roddy Bottom, who was away from most of the writing/recording time due to personal issues.
The album was yet another departure from their previous album’s sound. Where Angel Dust was a caustic stew of metal and hard rock energy, King for a Day was so diverse that one may think they were listening to a mixed playlist of bands if they were unaware of the album. King for a Day covered hard rock, funk, jazz, metal, bosa nova, post-hardcore, and gospel.
Yet this diversity was not always viewed as a plus by critics. Though it would in later years be re-discovered in a more positive light, sales for the LP were not looking so bright at the time. The album received mixed reviews. Some liked the diversity, while some claimed that the band had stretched themselves too thin and that the album was scattered or out of step with the times.
Though this was their lowest-selling album since The Real Thing, it still managed to go gold in several countries and sold one and a half million copies globally…
…Which brings us to 1997. During these years of the late 90’s and into the early 2000’s, a wave of bands being hailed as Nu-Metal such as Korn, Deftones, and System of a Down were on the rise in mainstream rock. Many of the bands from this wave have been known to cite Fate No More and/or Patton’s equally unusual outfit Mr. Bungle as major influences. It was safe to say at that point that FNM had a legacy, though they were seen by some as musician’s musicians, or a band that is often more appreciated by other musicians than the average listener.
Regardless, Faith No More tended to ignore these comparisons and continued making the music that they wanted to, which didn’t really fit into the trend of these rising rap/metal acts around them.
With Jon Hudson, their newest (and current) guitarist, Album of the Year came out on June 3rd, 1997 and the band knew that this was the end of the line for them. Despite many of the members having interests in pursuing other ventures, vocalist Patton was quoted years later saying that they had quit “Because we were starting to make bad music. And that's when you need to pull the plug. Our next record would have been a piece of shit.”
The Album
The cover of the album as you can see if just as unique as any of their other covers have ever been. While maybe not being on the level of Pink Floyd’s shocking imagery, FNM’s covers have always had a veil of mystery around them.
The image is actually that of Thomas Garrigue Masaryk, founding father and first president of Czechoslovakia. What does this mean? Well, to answer that would probably involve an answer similar to one you’d have to give explaining any of their album covers. However, it seems here that he is accepting bouquets of flowers and appears to preparing to leave on a train. If one were to consider the theme of departure in this image above all else, it would seem a no-brainer for why a band at the end of their ropes would choose this picture.
But let’s talk about the meat of this album: the songs.
TRACK-BY-TRACK
Collision
Since The Real Thing, the band has always started strong with their album-openers. By strong, I mean loud and startling and the track’s title is by no means misleading. Drummer Mike Bordin’s drums drive the song as it tours through multiple grooves that switch throughout the song. Patton’s vocals bring back their usual screaming-mixed-with-yelling-mixed with-clean style with a few nicely-placed overlaid harmonies. It may not be their strongest opener, but it takes quite a few listens before becoming old.
Stripsearch
“Stripsearch” is a standout. Its ambience is reminiscent of the song “Evidence” from King for a Day, but it’s method is different. Where “Evidence” was smooth in a jazzy manner, this song steps along more like a steady soldier, with the drums playing along in a steady, mechanical manner, interchanging with electronic percussion. Helping with this atmosphere greatly is keyboardist Roddy Bottum’s quirky leads and bassist Billy Gould’s solid bass-line. Patton starts in his soulful style reminiscent of an early time for the band. Suddenly, the song takes a dark, minimalistic turn over the chugging of Jon Hudson’s guitar and Patton’s switch for a more macabre voice. The song is a two-sided coin that switches between these two atmospheres, resulting in a unique creation from a band who had already done so much in terms of diversity.
Last Cup of Sorrow
You may still hear this one from time-to-time on your local alternative rock station. That statement makes me think of how “Epic” is played on classic rock stations now. I wonder if songs like this or other standout singles like “Midlife Crisis” are fair game now.
But I digress. “Last Cup” isn’t a bad song, but it doesn’t exactly bring anything new or interesting to the table. To be honest, it’s constant loop of wind-chime synthesizers wears itself out rather quickly as well as the very uneventful verse-chorus-verse format.
Naked in Front of the Computer
Interesting fact about this song: it was the only one on the album written entirely by Patton. If I’m not mistaken, Patton wrote a majority of the song “Land of Sunshine” and “Caffeine” from Angel Dust as well: two of the band’s most intense and interesting tracks. There certainly is a feeling of that similar intensity, and an oddity on the album because of its total lack of Bottum’s keyboards. It’s certainly bizarre, but that feeling doesn’t really seem to hold out through the song. Speaking as a longtime fan of the band, I would love to find a place to defend it beyond the argument of “it’s crazy and energetic,” but I can’t.
Helpless
This song is a confused ballad. It reminds me of the loud and atmospheric songs that the band liked to use to contrast the fast and aggressive numbers. Yet, where large ballads like “The Last to Know” from King for a Day never let off the distortion pedal or the full-on bellow of the vocals, “Helpless,” brings in a nice dynamic between soft and loud. Patton’s vocals fit nicely and switch smoothly between each section. Also featured is a whistle solo, which is a nice chance to a guitar, which would have been all-too-obvious. Let’s not forget the unusual repetition of Patton yelling “HELP!” even as the rest of the band fades out at the end. That’s the kind of oddity that will make you wonder what these guys were thinking.
Mouth to Mouth
Patton never really gave up rapping in the band, he just switched it out with screaming because straight rapping over hard rock was something the band had exhausted. While there isn’t really anything unique about this song, a lot of FNM’s deeper fans will probably like it. If anything, it’s vocals are a testament to the fact that this band had moved on from rap vocals that many bands who were emerging at the same time were just beginning to emulate.
Ashes to Ashes
While there is nothing unique about the songwriting formula here, there really seems to be some passion put into each part. Hudson’s guitar makes for a pretty gripping intro and helps carry the slow, yet confident verses between Patton’s ominous vocals and Bottum’s subtle keyboard overlaying. At the chorus, the band finally releases for a bold, daring march. Even the ending, which brings all sides of the band together, is a force that reveals that there was still some freshness to the band after all of those years.
She Loves Me Not
A song written by bassist Gould, which almost didn’t make the album. It’s a slow, Motown-esque number which demands Patton to take vocal duties that are some of his most soulful since The Real Thing. This song sticks out from the album like a thumb. Not a sore thumb, but an awkward one that makes me wish for more tracks like this. The vocals are clearly the standout on this song, and had FNM decided to bring more songs like this to the album, I would not have complained.
Got That Feeling
Surf rock intro. Screamed title in the chorus. Choppy spoken verses. Repeat. If you’re looking for something deeper, then skip this track. Otherwise, it’s fun, if that’s all it is.
Paths of Glory
Firstly, the lyrics are clearly reminiscent of the WWI Humphrey Cobb novel by the same name (or for those of you who don’t read, the film by Stanley Kubrick). Atmospherically, this is one of the band’s darkest songs, which reflects the presumed theme of the horrors of war. Instrumentally, the band certainly captures the mood but Patton is the icing. “You squirt out red and turn so yellow/ And then you made me kill my own,” may be some of Patton’s most visually descriptive lines. Repetition is the key in this song. The enemies keep “coming, coming, coming,” while Patton declares “I’m not afraid,” then admits: “but I’m afraid.” And there is the refrain of “Blood in your eyes again,” where, near the end, “again” is repeated ad-nauseam, just like the never-ending feeling of trench warfare.
Home Sick Home
Clocking in at less than two minutes, this song sounds like an incomplete idea. I suppose it’s not an awful piece, but it just seems uninspired. As the album winds down, I’m glad to live in 2016, where Faith No More has returned with a great album. This is just not the way to near the end an album that was, at the time, the end of your career.
Pristina
After the waxing and waning of songs that is Album of the Year, we end with this send-off: a minimalistic number that is haunting if not appropriate. I won’t go into detail about the lyrics, which are straight-forward in intent. It’s not necessarily the ultimate send-off, however, a FNM can’t help but feel goosebumps when Patton utters “I’ll be with you,” before repeating it over a soaring band that climaxes before slowly breaking apart, ending with the line “I’m watching you.”
On the inside of Album of the Year’s jacket is a picture of an old man’s funeral. The words “pravda vitezi” are printed on the coffin. The translation is “truth prevails,” the motto of the Czech Republic.
Besides a few credits and whatnot, that was it. Not even any printed lyrics. Less than a year later, Faith No More was…well…no more.
After canceling a tour in support of Aerosmith in early 1998, the band announced their breakup and went their separate ways.
Bassist Billy Gould, who helped produce Album of the Year, went on to become the CEO of Koolarrow Records in 1999 where he produced many projects and appeared as a guest musician. He also worked with several famous musicians such as James “Munky” Shaffer of Korn, Brooks Wackerman of Bad Religion, and Jello Biafra.
Keyboardist Roddy Bottum went on to front his pop-rock band Imperial Teen and produce his own opera, aptly named: Sasquatch: The Opera.
Guitarist Jon Hudson ended up starting a career as a property manager, watching over condominiums in the Bay Area.
Drummer Mike Bordin had already begun performing with Ozzy Osbourne’s band in 1996. Among other slots, he filled in for Black Sabbath’s Bill Ward for a short time due to health issues. In 2000, he filled in for Korn’s David Silvera and performed on one of Jerry Cantrell’s (of Alice in Chains fame) solo albums, Degradation Trip.
Vocalist Mike Patton continued working with his high school sweethearts, Mr. Bungle until their demise in 2004. Yet, that was small change. Patton stayed hungry and has never quit pursuing new musical projects, forming such bands as Tomahawk, Fantomas, and Peeping Tom, and going on to collaborate with artists ranging from avant-garde composer John Zorn, The Dillinger Escape Plan, and Bjork. He even co-founded Ipecac Recordings in 1999 with fellow musician Greg Werckman. Eventually, he went on to record entire soundtracks to movies such as A Pefect Place, and Crank: High Voltage. Patton is regarded by some as one of the hardest working men in music today.
THE LEGACY
Yet, what does it all add up to? Do people really care (a lot) about Faith No More? Sure, you’ll hear them on the radio from time to time, usually with their smash single “Epic” that they are certainly doomed to be known best for. But did they make an impact? Did they have any lasting effect on the musical geosphere?
As mentioned before, many bands began to emerge in the late nineties who gave thanks to Faith No More.
Among those thankful is vocalist Serj Tankian of System of a Down, who toured with Patton’s band Mr. Bungle in the Sno-Core tour of 1999 along with fellow FNM/Bungle fans Incubus.
“Patton always pushes the boundaries and does something completely different,” said Tankian.
Another patron is Deftones vocalist Chino Moreno who claims to be largely influenced by the album Angel Dust, citing songs such as “Kindergarten,” “Land of Sunshine,” and “Caffeine,” among others as major influences.
Max Cavalera of Brazilian metal band Soulfly and formerly Sepultura, declared that “Faith No More is fucking awesome. They could be so heavy and beautiful at the same time.” Cavalera went on to collaborate with Patton who appeared as a guest vocalist on Sepultura’s 1996 song “Lookaway.”
Perhaps one of the most compelling stories comes from Slipknot/Stone Sour vocalist Corey Taylor. At 19, Taylor tried to commit suicide by overdosing on pills. His girlfriend and her mother found him minutes later and he was rushed to the hospital. That night, while recovering, he was watching the MTV Video Music Awards. It was the year Faith No More came on and performed “Epic.”
“I was mesmerized,” said Taylor. “It shook my whole idea of what you can do musically… From that moment, I stopped feeling sorry for myself, and it's when I started dedicating myself to becoming what I am today.”
Faith No More may have influenced an entire generation of rap metal, but their legacy has clearly carried on past that first wave.
Hardcore/math-metal band Dillinger Escape Plan (who, as mentioned before, collaborated with Patton) have clearly shown hints of Faith No More’s diversity in their music. Listen to “Setting Fire to Sleeping Giants,” or “One of Us is the Killer,” and you can hear the incorporation of various musical styles and even the vocals of singer Greg Puciato that at times reflect Patton’s voice.
Post-hardcore group Fear Before even showed some residual signs of FNM’s style with their final self-titled album. Listen to their song “Tree Man” to get the idea.
And another important mention is experimental progressive metal act Between the Buried and Me, who like to insert Patton-esque vocals and other unusual sonic passages during their brutal tour-de-forces that often clock in at an eight-minute minimum. Listen to “Sun of Nothing,” or “Fossil Genera,” to get the idea.
Of course, this is all being written in 2016, a time where Faith No More lives again. A time where Faith No More tours the world not only with the status of elder-rocksmen, but with a new album in stores.
No, perhaps they’re not as big of a hit as they were in their rap-metal heyday.
Yet, it doesn’t matter. They’re something much larger than any of that now. For a band, getting a hit doesn’t ensure you anything other than a short stint in the spotlight. Faith No More have been in that spotlight and they have prevailed through the decline of sales and the loss of support.
Even if they weren’t around today for their victory lap as what some may claim alt-rock legends, that legend would still live. It would survive through other musicians who heard the calling and would manifest through new music that pays homage to an idea: it’s alright to be strange.
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