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Album
Type: Full
Length
Date
Released: 18
May 2015
Label:
Ipecac
Recordings/
Reclamation Recordings
‘Sol
Invictus’ CD//DD//LP track listing:
1. "Sol Invictus"
2. "Superhero"
3. "Sunny Side Up"
4. "Separation Anxiety"
5. "Cone of Shame"
6. "Rise of the Fall"
7. "Black Friday"
8. "Motherfucker"
9. "Matador"
10. "From the Dead"
2. "Superhero"
3. "Sunny Side Up"
4. "Separation Anxiety"
5. "Cone of Shame"
6. "Rise of the Fall"
7. "Black Friday"
8. "Motherfucker"
9. "Matador"
10. "From the Dead"
Faith
No More is
Mike Patton | vocals
Jon Hudson | Guitars
Billy Gould | Bass
Roddy Bottum | Keyboards
Mike Bordin | Drums
Review:
‘Sol Invictus’ is an album that only
Faith No More could have produced. Unique and flavoursome, it bastardises and
mutilates a plethora of styles and moods, moulding them to the shape of their
own distinct musical mantra. Patton is on tremendous form, his caustic and witty
lyrics in many ways the centrepiece to the record. He's the figurehead, the
father figure even, of a dysfunctional family befitting of the silver screen;
such is the excitement of the sparks the interweaving personalities of this
band create when living alongside one another. But it's that perfect disharmony
that we as the viewer, or indeed listener in this instance, love to see, it's
what got us hooked in the first place.
The keys of Roddy Bottum are the
musical voicing of the creepy uncle of the family, he acts dramatically,
forcefully even, when all else in the house is quiet. When the atmosphere is
rowdy meanwhile, you'll find him yearning sorrowfully out the way in the
corner. The rhythm section is either side to the multi-personality of the Mother
Hen. Half worried and frantic carer, half the proud and headstrong that, when
called upon, will always pull her family through whatever hardship may come
their way. Jon Hudson's guitars are very much the naughty son, the high octane,
prank-making wild child who never does as he's told. Musically there's a
shadowy moodiness to it that, somehow, couples itself with an edgy, punk driven
energy when it should be a confusing juxtaposition. Similarities between
guitars and keyboards are innate, and so often tangle up in the most inspiring
of ways.
As a collective they are forever
unpredictable. They slap you in the face when you expected a kick in the balls,
they'll drop a punchline just as anger bubbles uncontrollably out of your
throat. Lest we forget that 18 years is a hell of a long time away from the
limelight. Sure, they've been ever-present on the European festival circuit since
their 2009 reformation, a resurrection crowned with a headline performance at
Donnington Park, but they've not been present like this in nearly two decades.
Of course, adrenalised journalists will be dipping their quills in their finest
ink to wax lyrical about how this 40 minute long record might just be one of
the finest comebacks in rock n' roll history - and they'll be too quick to drop
that clichéd and devalued c word - but I don't think we should seem so
surprised. ‘Sol Invictus’ is an album that only Faith No More can make because
there is simply no one like them. They're special, undeniably so; they don't
fit into any category you may try and box them into, they swim upstream, alien
to any contemporary movement that flows around them. As a record, it goes to
great lengths to confirm that, but it's all done so effortlessly. They make 18
years in limbo worth it, more so forgotten about entirely, the second that
first, crooked piano chord sways into motion like a wind-up toy.
The whole thing plays out very
theatrically, raising its curtains to the dark and twisted inner workings of the
Californian quintet's brain. But at the
same time, it's also a very delicate beginning. You'd think after such a long
time away from the foray would see them turbo charged and going for the jugular
from the off, but no. It emphasises the band's eccentric nature, never once do
they fall in line with your predictions and it works brilliantly. The sulking
theatrics of the title track have you hanging on a thread, waiting for the next
move and it's one which comes in the form of an instant classic. ‘Superhero’ is
a ravenous, blood thirsty monster of a song, driven by the apathetic spit of
Patton's lyrics. The band are tightly coiled around one another here, an
explosion of fast paced guitars, bass and drums who's aural submission
timelessly makes room for an intelligent melodicism that seduces you like Eve
with the apple.
What's most impressive about ‘Sol
Invictus’ is how the band are able to resonate every mood, style and aesthetic
that makes up this most complex of mosaic sounds without every letting the
momentum slip. ‘Sunny Side Up’ and ‘Black Friday’ unmask their more poppy,
light hearted side with hip shaking rhythms and a bright musicality while the
veneering and venomous ‘Matador’ sounds at points like a dark flamenco musical,
a lavishly decorated stage and rapt audience jolting into your imagination in
an instant. The grinding bass and snarling vocals on ‘Separation Anxiety’ and
the contemptuously crazed and evil ‘Cone of Shame’ then, are very much the flip
side of the album’s happier songs. The former unravels maniacally, every spec
of the canvas painted with just the right colour in just the right places, the
drum fills are on point, the crescendo lurching impeccably. The latter though,
is simply a filthy, love-at-first-listen kind of song. It leaves you
breathless. ‘Motherfucker’ is a piece of nightmarish prose from Patton, backed
suitably by his cohorts. It’s poetry. If Jim Morrison was still around today, he’d
be writing songs like this.
You could sit and list every element
of spectacle about this album, every moment that grips you vice-like – such is
the attention to detail here. But all you really need to know is this: ‘Sol
Invictus’ sounds like Faith No More and no one else. It’s diverse, thrilling.
The burdening weight of expectancy may have hinged on their shoulders, the
desperation from the fans of this record being worth the slow and painful wait,
but Faith No More didn’t even seem to notice. They perform like they never went
away and, when it sucks you in, it honestly feels like they never did.
Words: Phil Weller
For
more information:
Official: http://www.fnm.com/ | Tweet: https://twitter.com/FaithNoMore
