Faith No More enraptures listeners with Angel Dust

It’s often said that too many cooks can spoil the broth. Faith No More proves just how untrue that can be. For their album Angel Dust, the group was comprised of the legendary vocalist Mike Patton, guitarist Jim Martin, keyboardist Roddy Bottum, bassist Billy Gould and Mike Bordin on drums. Any of these talents alone would be striking, but together, they are a force of nature and one of the most unique mainstream bands to emerge in the 90s.

Angel Dust is a marathon rather than a sprint of energetic, funky theatrics. The first two tracks come as a set and are borne of too much caffeine and Scientology commercials, as recounted by Patton. As the story goes, Mike found inspiration for tracks “Land of Sunshine” and “Caffeine” after purposely depriving himself of sleep for several days and watching late night Scientology infomercials, using caffeine to stay awake. “Land of Sunshine,” with its galloping bassline and cacophonic mixing, contains questions from Scientological personality tests and fortune cookies.

The range of not only the band, but this album alone, begins to reveal itself on the succeeding track, “Caffeine”, with harsher, more aggressive instrumentals and vocals that call to mind the instability and irritation a lack of sleep will induce.

The range is not limited to musical construction alone. Mike Patton is often regarded as one of the most talented and versatile vocalists in rock and metal. His vocals range from crooning, to screaming, to borderline operatic all within the space of a single track.

“Midlife Crisis” enters with choppy riffs and grating vocals before a seamless transition into clean vocals.

Samples and sound effects throughout the album might be obnoxious, if not handled properly. Usually, this level of post-production editing can distract or detract from the overall quality of the album, but that’s hardly the case here. I would argue that, if passively listening to the album, you’d hardly notice the effects and sound choices because of how tastefully they’re integrated.

“Smaller and Smaller” creates an atmosphere of foreboding tension with Patton’s vocals and Bottum’s keyboarding. Almost unnoticed, but undoubtedly crucial, is Martin’s playing on this track, which calls to mind 60s psychedelia guitar styles, perhaps in the vein of Shocking Blue.

Many of the riffs,basslines and drum sequences on this album are understated in the way a wedding dress or Rothko painting is; it’s in the simplicity that the talent and beauty are revealed. At the same time, or within the same song, the overindulgence and drama of costume jewelry or a Catholic church is unignorable.

The drama of “Smaller and Smaller” is hardly reduced, but certainly different in “Everything’s Ruined.” It enters with deceptively simple piano, only to burst to life with a low bass slide. The song peaks with layered instrumentals and stand-out bass and Patton’s tirelessly shifting vocals. Because this is still a rock album, there’s plenty of guitar solos and heavy sections.

“Malpractice” drags the listener through twists and turns with pounding drums and thrumming guitars. Patton’s vocals are harsh but expertly controlled. The instrumentals take on a descending, ominous tone as the song continues. Then, out of nowhere, the crushing riffs and vocals turn reticent and harmonic. Before you can acclimate to the switch; you’re crushed by a deluge of organ and heavy bass again.

“Malpractice” ends with a bang and “Kindergarten” enters with whistly, echoey guitars and harmonic drums and bass. Patton speaks more than he sings in the verses and howls through the chorus. This is easily one of the more enthralling tracks on the album, as it reaches an emotional depth not yet seen on the album.

“Kindergarten” is followed by “Be Aggressive,” a hard track to summarize. It enters with church organs, an animated bassline and phaser-like guitars. Patton shouts more than he sings, and the song is interspersed with cheerleading routines that goad the listener to “be aggressive.” The song turns reflective and pleading in the middle before leading into a guitar solo and unrelenting bass riffing.

In “A Small Victory,” Patton vocalizes the throes of losing and failure. This song features skidding instrumentals and Patton’s almost pop-star vocals.

“Jizzlobber” pounds like a headache on a hot day. It’s every bit as angry and hostile as a kicked hornet’s nest. It’s by and large the heaviest track on the album and reveals Patton’s later prowess for noise rock and more experimental sounds.

The album concludes with the wistful and bucolic track, “Midnight Cowboy.” This is the most egregious stray from the rest of the album’s overall sound and tone. It serves as the end-credits music at the end of a movie, something to listen to as you leave the theatre.

“Angel Dust” is a landmark album of 90s alternative, as it denied the expectations of MTV at the time. It wasn’t crushing, dark metal, it wasn’t angsty Seattle rock, it wasn’t a college radio hit, it wasn’t soaring shoegaze, or part of the shifting tide of hardcore; it was something entirely of its own. It’s hard to do it justice by word alone. This is the sort of album that inspires aspiring musicians and endlessly enraptures the adoration of music nerds. With such layered elements and diversified qualities, this album truly has something for everyone.