Settle in, this is a long one. Two stories come to mind when I think of Faith No More. The first one involves my very first week of college at Kent State University in Ohio. My parents and I had driven out about a week early because we had a family friend who worked for CBS Sports and he had managed to get us an all-access-pass to the World Series of Golf in Akron, Ohio. Now, nobody in my family were really into golf, you see. It just so happened that the tournament was only 20 minutes south of Kent and it just happened to be sponsored by NEC, the company my dad worked for. So my dad finagled a business trip out of it!

Now, let’s see: friend at CBS, dad’s company sponsoring the tournament, all-access-pass, which included food, beer, a golf cart, access to the clubhouse and locker rooms, everything. No reason not to head out to ‘ol Ohio a little early, ay?

Those exciting few days ended and I was then dropped off at college. Alone. In Ohio. Luckily, a guy I had met during the golf tournament happened to have a friend at Kent and he told me he’d give her a call and have her get in touch with me so I could get introduced around. Sure enough, a few days after school began, I got a call from I-don’t-remember-her-name and we ended up going to some party, of which I have very little recollection. I tend to be a little shy when confronted with a gaggle of people I don’t know, so I do remember being a little uncomfortable.

Nonetheless, a few days later I received a call from my golf tournament friend (bad with names, I am) and he let me know that he had two extra tickets to the Billy Idol concert at Blossom, the outdoor music half-shell place thingy in Cuyahoga Falls. I do remember him excitedly telling me that this was Billy Idol!!! The seats were supposedly tremendous. Did I want the tickets? You bet I did. Did I want to see Billy Idol? Uh, no. The reason I was so damn excited about this offer was because the great Faith No More were opening the show. I couldn’t care one iota less about seeing Billy Idol. I took the tickets faster than you can say “TaraReidisahoe.”

The summer previous to my leaving for Kent was the year Faith No More hit it big. Many remember them for their huge hit “Epic” – the one with the flopping fish at the end of the video and the constant cries of “What is IT?” in the song. That was my introduction to the band, and while later on I came to believe that “Epic” was actually one of their weaker songs, at the time I thought I’d encountered the second coming. Their strange brand of Chili Peppers-meets-Beastie Boys-meets-Pink Floyd had this 19 year old reeling with delight.

So there it was – two tickets to the Faith No More show, 7th row center! If only I had a camera back then. Faith No More just blew my ass away. Why is this so memorable? Well, I had thought it was a terribly nice gesture for that girl to have called me and invited me to that party, so I asked her to go with me, despite the fact that I felt nothing for her whatsoever except that I owed her one. A few days before, I had a met a different girl who really interested me and she loved Billy Idol. I didn’t hold it against her. She also loved The Wonder Stuff, The Sex Pistols, The Cult, Faith No More and other good bands at the time, so I cut her a break. And oh, I liked her. So why didn’t I bring her to the show? If that wasn’t an “in,” then what was????!!!! Well, in retrospect I have no idea what fueled me to make such a decision. Maybe I was playing hard to get, because I knew there was something brewing between us from the the very first time I met her and she gleefully admired my Bugs Bunny keychain.

The girl I ended up going to the show with was entirely non-plussed by Faith No More. Disappointing, indeed. But let me tell you, that band put on one hell of a show. Blew Billy Idol right off the stage, not that it’s difficult.

It was also the last time I saw that girl. The following week, I began dating the one I liked and we lasted a year. We still even occasionally trade emails today.

It was about a year-and-a-half later during the early summer of 1992 when Faith No More really blew my mind and released Angel Dust, still one of my favorite rock albums of all time. The borderline commercialism of their previous album was completely gone, replaced by what I can only describe as utter madness. Lyrically, musicially, whatever-ly, it was just pure, brilliant crazy-ass music. You had a cover of the instrumental “Midnight Cowboy.” You had the white-trash ballad, “RV.” Actual cheerleaders sang the chorus to “Be Aggressive.” Behind most of it was Mike Patton, the mad genius, whose crazy laughter carried the song “Land of Sunshine” into bliss.

I tell you, I couldn’t get enough. I wore that damn CD out so much that it wouldn’t “snap” into the CD case anymore, it just rested there without the snap when I put it back in its case. It’s got to be my second-most listened to album of the ’90s. There is no better way to describe it than the All Music Guide’s Stephen Erlewine, whose claimed:

“Faith No More followed their breakthrough success with 1992’s Angel Dust, one of the more complex and simply confounding records ever released by a major label.”

Here here, baby! Which leads me to my second story, which I promise will be much shorter than the first. Later that winter, when I was back at school, Faith No More’s tour of the U.S. hit The Agora on a cold February night in Cleveland. I remember clearly being excessively psyched to see this band again on stage. The frosting on the cake was that another favorite band of mine at the time, Helmet, was opening the show. Their rhythmic, metal-pounding style made me think I ought to invest in earplugs. I didn’t and I paid for it. Dearly. It was easily the loudest show I have ever been to in my life. Helmet just blew the roof off and Faith No More emerged later on and delivered one of the finest, most obnoxious rock performances I have ever seen, including a dead-on cover version of the Commodore’s “Easy.” Yes, Easy like Sunday morning. It sounded exactly like The Commodores version. And then they launched into their own song, “Jizzlobber,” whose highlight lyric is “I’m ready to make love to concrete.” Yes, it was that kind of night.

It was the first and one of very few times I have ever been in a mosh pit. I left that show with no shirt on. In February. In Cleveland. The shirt had been ripped off me and being freshly 21 and sufficiently oiled, I didn’t care one iota. I can confirm nipple hardening, however.

That said, it’s time to end today’s post with my MP3 of the Week and another box checked on the list of my favorite bands of the ’90s.

Listen to: A Small Victory.

“A Small Victory”
A hierarhcy….spread out on the nightstand
The spirit of team….salvation is another chance
A sore loser, yelling with my mouth shut

A cracking portrait….the fondling of trophies
The null of losing….can you afford that luxury?
A sore winner……but I’ll just keep my mouth shut

It shouldn’t bother me…..but it does

The small victories….the cankers and medallions
The little nothings….yhey keep me thinking that someday
I might beat you…..but I’ll just keep my mouth shut

It shouldn’t bother me, no…..it shouldn’t bother me, no no
It shouldn’t bother me, no…..it shouldn’t bother me, no no
It shouldn’t bother me, no…..it shouldn’t bother me, no no

If I speak at one constant volume
At one constant pitch
At one constant rhythm
Right into your ear
You still won’t hear
You still won’t hear
You STILL won’t hear
You still won’t hear
You STILL won’t hear
You STILL won’t hear
You STILL won’t hear
You STILL won’t hear
You STILL won’t hear
You STILL won’t hear
You STILL won’t hear