FAITH NO MORE | 29.11.97 | Kerrang!
Kerrang | Issue 676 | 29.11.97 | Paul Arnopp
Gross Point Blank
THE IDEA was a good 'un. We would be a fly on Faith No
More's wall for shows in Hamburg and Berlin, gorging ourselves on all kinds of
wacky on-the-road antics, taking a cautious glance at legions of groupies, and keeping a careful record of the hideous amount
of booze and drugs consumed. On paper, it's a peach. In real life, we are destined to
fail, Faith No More have been gigging for 17 years... and the days of fire
extinguishers splattering hotel walls are long gone.
It's late afternoon at Hamburg's Grosse Freiheit venue, just
off legendary perv's paradise, the Reeperbahn. Yesterday, the band flew in from
Japan, so half of them are asleep. Keyboardist Roddy Bottum identifies the
general atmosphere as "mid-tour blues". "We've got a month left
of cold European dates," shrugs Roddy. "It's hard for you to do a fly
on-the wall, because everybody's un their guard. The best way would be to hide
somewhere and catch people. I'm very into the hidden camera thing," he
smiles. "It's neat." That's as maybe, but in reality it would get our
heads kicked in. Part of us wants to refuse to leave until we've overdosed on
tales of 24-hour boozing and welcomingly open thighs, but maybe life on the
road really is all about headaches, foreigners, long flights, and boredom. Gentlemen, tell us it isn't so...
Sitting IN the production office of Berlin's Huxley's venue,
FNM drummer Mike Bordin is easily the band's most intense member. Although good-humoured, he is steely-eyed, serious, and
swings most subjects back to how all he cares about is hitting drums well. He
also spits an the floor every minute or so.
"My take on touring is a
little different from the other guys," he admits. "Faith No More's
been out for six months, but I was out for 14 months before that,
with virtually no break."
Bordin toured with Ozzy Osbourne and Black Sabbath on the
mammoth Ozz-Fest. Four months ago, as Faith No More prepared to start their
European tour in Poland, Mrs Bordin delivered their baby daughter. The
drummer's spouse and child are here today. "It's nice that they're
here," he says, "but i always discourage it."
At 34, Bordin has been touring half his life. As Faith No
More are playing six nights a week, he's focussed himself solely on performing.
"To me this is very personal," he stresses. "Very serious. I
throw out what isn't necessary."
In Australia, Bordin badly twisted a couple of ribs, then
played a show wrapped in gaffa tape, tears in his eyes. When this man plays a
bad show, you wouldn't want to be in the same room with him. "As the other
guys will tell you, I'm not a guy to be in the same room with anyway, a lot of
the time," he smiles. Do you meditate? "I don't know," he shrugs.
"Not something that
Brad Pitt taught me, or Richard Gere's f**kin' gerbil. I'm
just into rest, peace and quiet."
Some ROCK bands seem contractually obliged to 'spit-roast'
groupies and run around 'Hamburg's porn-drenched Reeperfaahn area like randy
adolescents. Not Faith No More.
"I think it'd actually be pretty dull to
live here," laughs talkative bassist Bill Gould. "It doesn't have
much erotic value and the Germans don't do it well. It's like, 'Okay, you give
me the money and you f**k this girl."
"And I don't think we've ever been the groupie sort of
band," says Roddy Bottum. "I hear the crew talk about stuff
sometimes. What is a groupie?"
Er, it's someone who wants to have sex with you because
you're in a band? "Well," adds Bottum, "I try and only have sex
with people who don't know anything about Faith No More. Having sex with
someone who knew I was in a band would make me sick!"
"I bet a band like Marilyn Manson get hundreds and
thousands of groupies," muses Gould. "But a groupie can go to Marilyn
Manson knowing there's maybe a place for her. Why waste her energy coming to
us?!"
AN HOUR or so later, we find Roddy seated at a table
backstage, using a Discman to spin one of the CDs he's bought. Bottum often
relieves the boredom of touring by visiting local gyms. "That's a way to
see the different walks of life," he says. "When we started out
touring, I used to do that by going to laundromats. You also don't really know
a city until you do the public transportation. And eating, of course - except
in Germany. I just fast the whole time I'm here..."
Roddy insists that he is genuinely 'into' almost every show
FNM play. "It's an ego thing," he considers. "You get the rush
of all these people clapping; you can't help but be flattered and enjoy
yourself. That's what you wanna be doing with your life, right? Getting attention?
Positive feedback?!"
THERE'S PRECIOUS
little evidence of inflated egos, or, for that matter, hell-raising as the
afternoon passes. "If had to party all the time, it would be like a whole
extra job," marvels Bordin. "Being that glamorous pirate of the
fuckin' road is a fab. Every night there's alcohol, exciting people, parties
and chicks, but I don't have a social life on the road, and I don't give a
f**k. Playing well gets me the closest to being happy - not a line of coke, a
beer and a blowjob."
"It's great if you can get wasted and get the work
done, but if you tour a lot, one's got to take second place," warns Gould.
"Or you'll turn into a fat old f**ked-up piece of shit." "When
Chuck (Mosley, former FNM singer) was in the band," he adds, "Those
were our big party
days. We got in some serious fist-fights and did wild stuff.
But I'm too old to party like that now! I can't do acid more than once a
week..." "It's a misconception," insists ice-cool FNM singer
Mike Patton. "When I first started, I probably looked for, or created,
more of what I thought touring should be. All those rock 'n' roll myths are
there it you took for them. But I'm glad I've changed,or I would have quit this
band years ago."
After the Berlin show, Gould, Patton and guitarist Jon Hudson
head over to a cosy bar to meet some friends. The drinking commences.They only stay tor a couple.
NEW KID GUITARIST
Hudson, who's 29, joined Faith No More last year, having known Gould for years
through a mutual friend. Born in Oakley, California, he spent live years in a band called
Systems Collapse. While enthusing that he's "having a blast", Hudson
maintains that "this is a job - not a f**kin' joyride". "These
guys have been out hare for 15 years, so I don't expect them to jump for joy
and mostly I don't either. But this has definitely jumped me up a notch. F**k,
the last show I had with one of my bands, only 10 people came."
Outwardly the quiet type, Hudson shrugs when it's suggested
that the tour bubble allows him little isolation. "I don't think it's any
more intrusive than any other job I've had. Compared to those, this is nothing.
Travelling around the world - how much of a drag Is that?!"
Perhaps THE lack of unwinding and general arsing around is
the reason that there remains an element of tension in Faith No More. An
argument breaks out today, during sound check in Berlin. "That was a great
fight," grins Gould. "One of the better ones in a long time. I don't
think Puffy's had much sleep - he's kinda wound up. He's right at the end, ready to jump off..." "I almost hit
Puffy," laughs Patton. "I think It was probably circumstance, but it
happens. No big thing..."
The singer stirred It up backstage one night, when he made a
slightly drunken announcement about FNM's hit song 'Epic'. "I said, 'You
know what? I'm sick of this fucking song and I don't wanna play it. That's my
opinion and I think we should all vote', I thought that was very democratic and
rational, but no-one said anything. Complete silence in the room. A couple of
people left, even. I figured, 'Boy, this is sure taboo'."
IT'S STILL hours from showtime, and Bill Gould is sitting
alone in the band's dressing room, Twiddling a weird green guitar. Besides
having learnt Spanish (a major language in California), Gould's
other on-tour goal is to make himself six string literate. "How do I keep
myself sane?" he repeats. "I stay away from the rest of the
band!"
According to Gould, approaching gigs as jobs is no bad
thing. "That's when you do really good stuff," he maintains.
"Since it's become a job, we've learned to relate to each other
differently - not necessarily better at the time, but you just don't sweat the little
things so much."
After Gould reveals his ambition to play the first ever gig
in Albania ("I wanna feel like there's some mystery and some imagination
left in touring"), we leave him to his own devices. "I think I'll
have some booze and two fat lines of coke," he considers, his mouth
forming a grin. "Or maybe I'll lust take an hour's nap..."
DURING AN excellent set in Berlin, where the band flaw from
the heavy likes of 'Collision' 'to the stinky 'Evidence' and The Commodores'
'Easy', Mike Patton alternates between screaming his bollocks off and hilarious
Elvis-style moves. About this cabaret phase... "I wouldn't say it's a
phase!" he laughs. "I would say it's, 'Look, man, we're gettin'
old!'. I don't need to jump around all the time - f**k it!"
Interestingly, Faith No More genuinely like 'Easy' and John
Barry's 'Midnight Cowboy' which opens their set. "It never really was a
piss take for us - that's the funny thing. We mean it!"
Does Patton intend to be amusing on stage? "I guess, but
I don't know if it's making em laugh.
It's sure making me laugh sometimes! It doesn't necessarily translate, so if there's awkward
moments, that's why."
Patton insists on eating out before any of the band's shows.
Tonight, he visited an Italian restaurant. "It's important to eat a
f**king dynamite meal before the show," he stresses. "To get out of
here and feel like a human being. I will not sit and eat catering. I like to
show up at the last minute, satisfied, put on my f**king suit and walk onstage.
That's an art - to spend the least time possible in this hellhole!"
Most days, Patton sits in his room writing music for bizarre
ventures like Mr Bungle, or gets out and experiences the city. "Christ,
Germany sucks, but there's some shit to do," he says. "What the the
else is there? Do I sit in my room and beat off? Watch CNN?! There's nothing
else to do!"
Corny though it sounds, Faith No More are united in their
motivation to perform well. As a sweat drenched Bordin gasps after the show,
"After all the shit we have to do during the day, our only revenge is getting
on that stage." "After I spend my day trying to make myself
sane," sighs Patton, "I come to this place and hope that it's gonna
make my day worthwhile. Sometimes I don't know know this f**kin' dick is gonna
stand up hard. Then three minutes before we're on, I get a hard-on. That's
life..."
FNM's five must-have tour bus items.
Bill Gould: "My computer. It's an Apple Powerbook 1400
CS, with a CD-ROM drive. I can send and receive e-mail, no matter what
city I'm in. I can take care of shit around my house, keep in
touch with friends through their email at work, order books, shop. It makes me
feel I'm still connected with where I live."
Mike Bordin: "For the last 10 years, I carried around a
black shoulder bag, containing anything between a hundred and a
hundred-and-fifty CDs. I've really pared it down since FNM started out again,
to 12 CDs, which for me is a huge thing really letting go of the security
blanket. Music really helps me..."
Roddy Bottum: "I like my phone book, because I like
contact with the outside world. I used to bring an acoustic guitar, which was
kinda fun, but left that behind."
Jon Hudson: "I have the same model of laptop as Bill's,
except it keeps crashing on me. I end up transporting it through airports, on
the bus and everywhere else, but I don't even use it that much. I might as well
have brought my weight-set with me."
Mike Patton: "A four-track TASCAM four track recorder.
I recorded an entire record on it, and maybe i'll record another one on it! If
I didn't have that, I wouldn't be able to talk to anybody."
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