Faith No More – Sol Invictus

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This is the story of a boy who discovered the greatest band ever.

It was 1990, and a ten-year old boy woke up early before school. He couldn’t sleep. There was no reason; he was just awake. No one else was awake at 5;30 am, and his father had already gone to work, so he crept downstairs to turn on the TV. He had rarely been up this early, and there was very little on the 20-something channels available. No cartoons, no recognizeable sitcoms…but…MTV was available. No one was awake, like Mom, who wasn’t entirely comfortable with her 10-year old boy watching a lot of music videos.

So naturally, he put on MTV. But, he kept the volume low, and kept his ear close to the speaker.

A video was in progress, the likes of which he had never, ever seen. It was set in a vaguely barren, yet fantastical landscape, with some of the wildest looking musicians rocking out hard. One guy had insane glasses on, and the frontman was going out of his mind. The song sounded like nothing he had ever heard, and it left an indelible mark on him forever. He didn’t have a pen and paper, and he dared not walk away from the most amazing song he had ever heard. he resolved he had to absolutely take in and remember the words that would flash on the bottom left of his screen. So, as a fish died on screen, he captured the band info and tried hard to remember the chorus.

Faith No More
Epic
The Real Thing
Slash/Reprise

He’d never see that video on MTV ever again.

He asked everyone he knew. No one had heard of Faith No More in his elementary school. There was no internet to look such things up. He was afraid he’d forget the name of the band, or the song. What if he never heard it again? It would be lost to him forever, perhaps.

He did the only thing he could do: he’d go over the name of the band and the song every day, and sing the snippet of the chorus to himself until he could come by a means of getting the album.

As the boy grew, he frequented more music stores. He couldn’t find Faith No More anywhere. Not on cassette, not on record, not on compact disc. In his small suburb just north of Boston, it just wasn’t there. So he kept singing the song, reciting the band name, reciting the song name, waiting for the day he’d hear the song again. He did a bunch of other stuff, too. He excelled at school, played sports, had friends, made some mischief. But this song was int he back of his head at the end of every day. He didn’t want to forget it.

There was that one time, in 1991, when he heard from an older brother of a friend of a friend that Faith No More was going on tour with the two biggest bands in the world: Metallica and Guns ‘N’ Roses. He begged his dad to go, he’d do anything, but because his father wasn’t a lunatic, he didn’t take his boy to one of the most notorious rock tours of all time.

So, he sang himself the song, and recited the words. He did this every day for over two years.

Finally, his parents gave him a kingly gift on Easter 1992: A CD player, replete with four discs (in long boxes): Guns ‘N’ Roses’ Use Your Illusion I and II, Metallica’s Black Album, and The Real Thing–by none other than Faith No More.

All of those albums would be played quite a bit, but one was played much more than the rest.

It was odd though, he had this snippet of “Epic” in his head for so long, he was afraid it would sound radically different. What if he didn’t like the song again, on second playback? It was an oddly anxious feeling. After so long, what if it wasn’t as good as he thought?

The fears were put to rest. It was as good as he originally thought. Better, even. And his memory wasn’t so bad, after all!

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Ok, we’ve all figured out by now that the little boy in that odd story was me, and it is 100% true. From that morning in 1990 to this very day, Faith No More has always been and always will be my favorite band of all time. And yet, much like the story of how I came to hear “Epic” for a second time, much of my appreciation for the band has been delayed satisfaction.

For example, it took me 24 years to finally see them live. I just saw them for the first time one week ago (It was amazing). I wasn’t able to get to their final Boston-area show in 1997–just weeks before they broke up–and then had to wait 18 years for another area show. I contemplated travelling to Europe for their reunion show in 2009, but couldn’t get over there, because Europe is far.

So I waited. I listened to the albums, and the equally voluminous set of unreleased tracks and live recordings I have. Over, and over, over. Faith No More is the only band I truly can say doesn’t have a song I dislike. I like literally everything they’ve done. They’re sort of like the Star Wars of music for me. Yes, this includes the Chuck Mosley years.

That’s not to say I never saw Mike Patton or the rest of FNM live. I saw Mike Bordin with Ozzy in 1998, and saw Patton numerous time with Tomahawk, Fantômas, Peeping Tom–even with Rahzel. I met him once, and could only think of one thing to say. “Thank you.”

When Faith No More released a new single on the same day as the first Star Wars: The Force Awakens teaser trailer, it went down as one of the greatest days in recent memory. However, one song doesn’t make an album. After 18 years, what if this band I loved so hard put out an album I didn’t really enjoy? Would Sol Invictus be as good as I hoped?

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Oh yeah, there’s an odd thing about Faith No More albums. They’re not so much released as they are decompressed. Since The Real Thing, the band’s sound has never had a true core. If AC/DC is at one end of the music spectrum, with a defined signature sound, Faith No More is the polar opposite. They reinvent themselves with every album, so you know them the way you’d know an old friend you haven’t seen in many years; they may look and sound wildly different, but there’s a certain constant about them that, at their core, still shines through.

Because of this, people find listening to new Faith No More music to be a jarring experience. I’ve introduced almost everyone I know who likes FNM to the band, the reaction to each subsequent album is very consistent: “I’m not sure if I like this one. It doesn’t sound like the one before it. I’m not sure it’s as good.”

Over time, they all have come around. Because a band like Faith No More can be appreciated no only in their main output, but in their nuances. Each song is an independent composition to be probed for structure, meaning, and emotion. It’s a well that never goes dry.

So, when I first listened to Sol Invictus in its entirety, I was taken aback by how naturally and easily the songs flowed. It is dark, and deep, and beautiful in it’s strength and also its economy. Coming in at roughly 38 minutes, these guys have certainly figured out the secret from deriving more from less. And, as I am more than aware, they know how to keep you wanting more.

The ten songs of Sol Invictus (a translation, I should note: from Latin, “the unconquered sun”) work well as an album, with a coherence that lends itself to continuous listening. It’s a rarity in today’s single-driven iTunes era. But that’s not to say there aren’t singles here. “Superhero” and “Motherfucker” stand on their own as instant hits in FNM canon, but the album’s title track, “Sunny Side Up,” and “Cone of Shame” are also strong offerings.

However, I’ve had “Matador” on repeat for days. It may be a masterpiece. Elegiac and sorrowful, the piece shifts to a transcendent, positive, rising song that leaves your blood pumping and your lips curling into a knowing, satisfied smile. NPR called it cinematic, and I have to agree. If the song “The Real Thing” is about discovery and hope, then “Matador” is about reflection and defiance in an unknown future.

It’s just about as fitting a parable for the band as I can surmise. Is this their coda? I hope not. With Sol Invictus comes an important, vital, and reeeeeallly enjoyable album. I hope it’s a mark of a new period of creativity for the band. I want more Faith No More.

But please guys, don’t take another 18 years. I’ve waited long enough.

JT

P.S. This only scratches the surface of my thoughts on Faith No More. I won’t bore you with individual album reviews, but there is the matter of this theory I have.

Is it possible that The Real Thing is a concept album, lying in disguise this entire time?

More to come.