Album Reviews: King for a day, Fool for a lifetime by Faith No More

by Eoin Shaughnessy

In a not uncommon plea for co-operation and harmony Bill Hicks once opined “this is a world where good men are murdered in their prime, and mediocre hacks thrive and proliferate”. One could deploy the above quote in relation to arguably the most under-rated band of recent decades, namely Faith No More. Now defunct, the quintet briefly became a quartet circa the recording of 1995’s King for a Day, Fool for a Lifetime with the departure of guitarist Jim ‘Big Sick Ugly’ Martin. Into the fold then, stepped virtuoso rocker Trey Spruance and the new unit duly completed a record which met with both commercial and (initially) critical disdain; only with the benefit of hindsight has it achieved appreciation as an inventive amalgam of funk, metal and pop, and an admitted influence on System of a Down et al.

“What if there’s no more fun to have?” howls Mike Patton-a man gifted with a lung capacity fit to rival even Mariah Carey-on the opening Get Out; nevertheless, even if the accepted wisdom has it that FNM’s existence during this period was dogged by much bickering and on-tour mishaps it bears little noticeable influence here. The band, meanwhile, flex their hardly inconsiderable muscles on the Steely Dan-meets-Dead Kennedys cacophony of Star AD and dubious country pastiche Take This Bottle. It’s the nastier numbers, however, which immediately demand attention, particularly the loco Cuckoo for Caca (“Shit lives forever . . . We’ll retire with a turd on our lips”) and failed single Ricochet, on which the non-vocal four’s restrained instrumentation belies Patton’s characteristic malice-“It’s always funny until someone gets hurt . . . and then it’s just hilarious!”

As the album progresses, fictional figures disparate as Icarus and Scorsese’s Rupert Pupkin (who all but supplies both title and therefore title track) are referenced amidst the customary barrage of pummelling riffs and lyrical sniping (“Sniff the glass and let it roll around on your tongue/Let me introduce you to someone before the party is done”-King for a Day). On reflection, it’s hardly surprising FNM folded and faded from view, and mores the pity; in a cultural mindset which rewards Limp Bizkit’s feeble posturing and grants Jordan and her buxom ilk innumerable inches of column space a group unwilling to deliver a platter never less than enthrallingly ass-kicking is more necessary than ever.