FAITH NO MORE’S REINCARNATION
Montreal show on ‘ bizarre’ anniversary
He'd had no idea.
Billy Gould is on the phone from Boston, where his band Faith No More is readying for its Saturday headline slot at Heavy Montréal. Which falls exactly 23 years to the day after its last Montreal show, at Olympic Stadium. “Really?” Gould says. “You know what, that is really bizarre! We're having a lot of coincidences on this tour! Interesting. Twenty- three years to the day? Unbelievable. Totally weird.” And totally notorious. That is, if James Hetfield burned by fire pillars and Axl Rose pitching a fit onstage that detonates mayhem in the seats and streets is notorious. The Guns N' Roses Riot at Olympic Stadium on Aug. 8, 1992 was the ugly ending to what should have been the triple bill of the decade: GNR, Metallica, Faith No More. Instead, it was a jinxfest, with Metallica ending when Hetfield was severely burned in a pyrotechnics accident. Following an interminable delay, GNR would cut short its own set after about 55 minutes, apparently due to monitor problems and Axl's ailing throat. Which meant that FNM was the only band of three to play its full set.
“And we got out early, actually,” Gould says. “We had a big drive ahead of us, so we didn't actually stick around to see Metallica that night. We were driving on the highway, so we missed all the fun and games. Were you there? Complete chaos, right?”
Complete. After the T- shirt pyres in the audience, the crowd's anger spilled out into the Big O's massive corridors and the east end, with fans trashing cars ( including a police cruiser).
“I remember it as a huge bummer,” Gould says. “What should have been the greatest tour in the world didn't feel that way for us, ever.”
Which is why life's second chances are so important. On Saturday, Heavy Montréal gets the reincarnation of Faith No More. And if, six years into a reunion, it seems odd to ask how it's going, let's be odd anyway. Because they are.
“I would say it's probably taken six years to be this comfortable,” Gould says. “It's a matter of reacclimating. You kind of have to
grow into each other again, and that's taken a while. That's probably why it took a while to get this record going, too.”
This year's Sol Invictus was the first FNM record since Album of the Year in 1997, and the band's breakup. There had been no big farewell tour — one day in 1998, they just weren't there anymore. Which made sense, given the ultimate heavy- fusion genre- melting band had been both a defining exemplar of its time, and a complete anomaly that never really fit the bill — any bill.
After an 11- year hiatus of many accomplished side projects, they were back, with Gould joined by singer Mike Patton, keyboardist Roddy Bottum, drummer Mike Bordin and guitarist Jon Hudson. “We all know we can survive on our own, so that makes a huge difference,” Gould says. And they can fit any bill, including Heavy Montréal.
“I think it's amazing,” Gould says. “I guess we've played some hard, driving music, but I never thought of us as a heavy metal band. But this year we've played a bunch of heavy metal festivals, and they all really went over really well. And I do think of that as an achievement. Because that's not our identity, necessarily, but I'm glad that we can attract different people, and they can appreciate us for what we really are.
“There's little kids, old greyhaired people, there's metalheads — all kinds, everybody. To the point where I can't even say what a Faith No More fan is. Last night, just looking in the audience, I'm like: ‘ This is really a strange mix of people.' I try not to judge them; I'm just really happy they like what I'm doing.”
What they are doing is running through one of the more bristling discographies extant, from the massive breakthrough single Epic ( 1989!) to Easy. When you've got a Commodores ( and Dead Kennedys and Midnight Cowboy) cover in your repertoire, then yeah, why not play RV, a deep cut from Angel Dust ( 1992)? “People were really shocked that we played it … and then I read on a blog that we hadn't played it since 1993.”
There is a video online of the band in San Francisco's famous Amoeba Records last year. Shot from the first of what must be three rows of fans, the band is ripping through the new song Superhero with visceral attitude. Hey, that singer, Patton — he sounds and looks like he hasn't aged a day. “I feel like we're all on a team and he's the quarterback,” Gould says. “And I've got his back.”
That matters, because this is not a band that can coast into the 20- minute Deadhead jam.
“Unfortunately not,” he laughs. “All of our songs are very active.” And challenging. “And really rewarding. When you totally sync up and pull it off, it's amazing. You kind of go through this journey that the audience goes on with you. And it does take a lot of focus, and this tour every show has been top- notch. I'm really grateful about that, but it's also something you have to protect, to keep that intensity. That 1 ½ hours is the most important part of your day, so you've got to be in shape to do it. Like being a boxer, you train. You're gonna get hurt if you don't win. When you go out there, it really has to matter, or you're not coming out of it victorious.
“It's got physicality and it's got the creative spark.”
And it has a new quality. During those 11 years, Gould also realized that, given the demands of the music, this is a limited- time offer.
“Absolutely. Exactly. You cannot do this forever. So we really need to appreciate what we have now. You have this much time. You can do it now, and you should be doing it to the best of your ability while you can.”