IN REVIEW: Faith No More - "Sol Invictus"

To put the anticipation for Faith No More's seventh studio album into proper perspective, consider that my seventeen year old daughter did not exist when Album of the Year was released. That record ended up being a little pedestrian, a somewhat dull and tired sounding record compared to the three that came before. It almost made sense when the group disbanded not even a year later; the members had tired of each other's company, and wanted to focus on other things (or, in the case of enigmatic frontman Mike Patton, lots of other things). Still, it stung to see them go, even with a whimper; this was, after all, the band that pretty much singlehandedly taught me to take an open minded approach to music. In an age of expendable, cookie cutter bands, Faith No More was the cutter, the cookie and the oven. If given enough time, I can probably rattle off a hundred bands I enjoy today that I never would have given a chance to if not for the lessons I learned from Angel Dust (you can get a little primer on that here). To say they've been difficult to replace in my heart is a gross understatement; it's been impossible.

As new projects came and went, hope slowly faded that a return could happen. Even when it did happen in the form of a few tentative reunion concerts, it didn't seem likely that the day would come when we'd be listening to new music by this band. Slowly but surely, the clouds began to part, and rumblings of song ideas began to surface. Then late last year came the announcement that not only was a new album imminent, but we were getting a new single. This turned out to be the throbbing, Roddy Bottum-led Motherfucker, an ominous and fiery rocker that acts as sort of a red herring in terms of defining what 21st century Faith No More sounds like while simultaneously providing the key to how 21st century Faith No More operates.

The single biggest difference between Sol Invictus and previous Faith No More records is in its hierarchy; whereas Mike Patton's influence weighed the heaviest on Angel Dust, King for a Day and Album of the Year, the new incarnation of the group is much more collaborative by nature. Particularly noticeable on this record is Bottum, whose keys had been relegated to mere supporting role on the majority of past albums; here, he's a vital component to the songs more often than fleshing them out. Check out his fleet fingers doing the heavy lifting as current single Superhero reaches its dizzying crescendo, or the way he carries the rhythm on the sparse, album opening title track, Sunny Side Up and Matador.

That's not to say Mike Patton's playing second fiddle; his performance is just more understated and in service to the songs rather than the show. His vocal range still rivals pretty much anyone on the planet and, even as he ages, he continues to find interesting and unique uses for his voice. When he does let it rip, as he most certainly does on Separation Anxiety and Cone of Shame, there's no doubt that he's still got it. It's just that, for the majority of songs, there's less tendency to prove his chops and more so to contribute his portion to the whole.

The same can be said for Billy Gould who, in addition to providing his ever-reliable, groove-heavy bass work, handled production duties. Throw in another sturdy, professional turn at the drum kit for Mike Bordin and the multi-faceted guitar attack of Jon Hudson and you've got a fully collaborative, wholly independent effort (also important to note that the band started their own label, with distribution by Patton's Ipecac imprint, for the purposes of putting out Faith No More records going forward).

So, even with all that we know about the record's foundation, the overriding question on most minds is, "is the thing any good?" Well, in pre-release press, there were allusions to Sol Invictus being different sounding while essentially remaining true to what Faith No More represents, and I can't really provide a more on-the-nose assessment than that. There are a lot of flavours to digest here given the collaborative nature of the record; and, while the shifts in mood and tone aren't as severe as they were on King for a Day, there's more than enough variety on display to assure you that Faith No More aren't about to simply recycle old ideas. Witness Rise of the Fall, which floats along on a breezy groove before its momentum carries it straight into a theatrical, near Mr. Bunglesque bridge. Or Black Friday, a new wave-infused rocker that boils over for its refrains of "buy it!" but gets far more mileage out of acoustic guitar than electric.

That said, you can hear the nexus of where they've been and where they're going in Superhero, as it grows in intensity and swallows its beauty in thick, furious swaths of sound. It's there again (perhaps more effectively) on Separation Anxiety and Cone of Shame, a dynamic duo of tracks that close out the first half and act as the most direct links to Faith No More's past, both swirling and churning, waiting patiently for their chance to explode into metallic, groove-laden behemoths. The latter is especially devastating once it finds its teeth about halfway in. Even so, none of the three tracks I just mentioned are so explicit in their nostalgia as to sound derivative in any way; they are all new, expanded interpretations, songs that undoubtedly bear the fingerprints of the people who made The Real Thing and King for a Day while twisting the source material into new and interesting shapes.

One of Sol Invictus' most pleasant surprises turns out to be its conclusion; the sweeping, majestic Matador, which establishes a sense of intense resolve ("we will rise from the killing floor"), immediately pays off with album closer From the Dead, a shimmering and celebratory song of joyful return. "Welcome home, my friend", Patton croons over a bright acoustic strum. Which is funny because, after listening to an album I'd thought destined to fall well short of a generation gap's worth of expectation not only meet but exceed it, I was thinking the same thing.

Welcome home, my friends.

May 19, 2015 • Reclamation Recordings/Ipecac

Highlights Superhero • Separation Anxiety • Matador