‘In the rock world, I was the lone openly gay figure’: Faith No More’s Roddy Bottum Speaks Out.

When Roddy Bottum embarked on writing his remarkable autobiography The Royal We, the musician from Faith No More had a specific goal of the sort of book he aimed to avoid. “The sort featuring mid-book images,” he notes, during a video call from Oxnard, California, where he is wrapping up a new album with his band Imperial Teen. “I’m not a big fan of rock memoirs – they’re the most predictable, name-droppy, sub-literature experiences.”

The Royal We certainly isn’t name-droppy – Bottum doesn’t even use the surnames of his bandmates. And while he describes the band’s beginnings and formative stages, this plays a lesser role to his “youth escapades” in San Francisco, “in an era pre-internet, when the city was still untouched.” Much of the focus is on his personal journey with identity, and how the associated hiddenness and shame have influenced his life. “As a teenager, at 13 or 14, I began intimate encounters with men,” he states. “It was such a taboo, and that set the tone of my life.” In the memoir, incidents involving his visiting public facilities and parks as a teenager are narrated unflinchingly and unapologetically. “Intimate moments occurred with older men in outdoor hideaways,” he notes. “Shamefully at first, proudly later. Back off.”

“At book events, I begin by reading that part,” he comments. “I understand how provocative statements like that are; it’s so inappropriate. But I feel no embarrassment. In the era of Trump, my story must be proclaimed, to combat the racism, the transphobic and discriminatory views.” He halts. “I aim to stir controversy. My relatives include religious conservatives, and My goal is to unsettle their family gatherings through this work. As they are sure to peruse it.”

The memoir begins on the teenage Bottum relocating from his birthplace Los Angeles. “The city was a sudden shift from LA’s bright facade,” he observes. “Chilly. Gloomy. Figures sporting dark hair and light makeup, persons engaged in substance abuse. San Francisco’s gay community was unlike anything in Los Angeles. It motivated me.”

Entering the Band Faith No More

During this period, in 1981, Bottum teamed up with Faith No Man, later renamed Faith No More with Billy Gould and Mike Bordin, complementing their “powerful bass and drums” with “an element of grace over the gloom. Rock bands didn’t have keyboards then.” They cycle through vocalists, including – for a short time – Courtney Love, the memoir’s most striking figure, an bold instigator of turmoil lighting homes on fire and alienating people constantly.

“Courtney and I instantly recognized our deep connection,” Bottum states. Their close bond momentarily crossed into a intimate involvement, resulting in pregnancy and abortion; later, Bottum became a close advisor of Love and her husband, Kurt Cobain. Contrary to the negative stereotypes, Bottum depicts Love as someone with intelligence, drive and agency.

“Courtney faced many challenges,” he nods. “An influential yet disputed individual, and highly intelligent. And that’s a very attractive, exciting person to write about. She’s a warm, compassionate person, and many fail to see that side. Yet we shared a deep bond and supported one another.”

The Band’s Beginnings

The early Faith No More were, Bottum confesses, “utterly absurd.” Their music centred around driving, repetitive riffs jammed out while under the influence of assorted narcotics, including MDMA, while their frontman, eccentric drinker Chuck Mosley, “lacked vocal talent.” But they had ambition. “The local music community preferred dark aesthetics, but we were fans of pop culture icons. Irrationality, we saw ourselves in that league. Though there was nothing shiny or attractive or poptastic about us.”

But their ironic hybrid track We Care a Lot became a small-scale success on MTV in 1988, Mosley ceded the mic to the camera-friendly Mike Patton (who did have a good singing voice), and by 1990 Faith No More’s third album was a genuine, award-recognized success. Characteristically, The Royal We doesn’t dwell on this triumph, shifting abruptly instead to their unsuccessful period on Guns N’ Roses and Metallica’s 1992 stadium tour.

“I used heroin to numb the pain of my concealed life.”

On the Road with Legends

It was, Bottum says, “the largest concert series of its time.” But Faith No More were quickly distanced by the “harmful” rock’n’roll circus they’d entered; in the memoir, he describes an disturbing encounter with groupies recruited for GN’R’s entertainment. “The sexism and arrogance from Guns N’ Roses felt overwhelming,” he explains. “That song featured derogatory language, and that was the vibe backstage. I wanted no involvement. We declined to contribute our identity to such toxicity.”

The tour – from which Faith No More were sacked two weeks early, for badmouthing GN’R in the press – marked a pivotal moment for Bottum. “I had to embrace my true self,” he affirms, “to talk about being gay, to distance myself from this toxic environment.” Against his managers’ advice, he came out in the pages of the Advocate the following year. “I was the only out queer guy in rock,” he says. “Freddie Mercury hadn’t come out before he died. Michael Stipe didn’t talk about it, nor Judas Priest’s frontman, nor the alternative rock figure. This fueled my frustration. It was essential to document my story, to promote inclusivity in the music industry. And I met so many kids who were queer, who felt my being a queer person in music made a difference to them.”

Overcoming Addiction

Bottum hadn’t even discussed his sexuality with his fellow members, even though he travelled with his boyfriend on the tourbus. “They were accepting and would have supported me,” he comments. “The trauma of growing up gay during that time, the effects of discrimination.” He found instant acceptance from Cobain, the Nirvana frontman who was the stark contrast of the gender bias and homophobia that had blighted the GN’R tour. “Kurt was like a unicorn,” Bottum murmurs. “Cobain enjoyed challenging norms through identity. That likely strengthened our bond. He loved that I was gay, that that was a thing he got to be around. His character was remarkable.”

Bottum became intimate to Cobain and Love, the trio connected at the time by drug use. Bottum

Justin Martinez
Justin Martinez

Maya is a gaming enthusiast and strategist with over a decade of experience in analyzing gaming trends and sharing actionable tips.