‘I was the only out queer guy in rock’: Faith No More’s Roddy Bottum Shares His Story.
As Roddy Bottum began writing his notable autobiography The Royal We, the Faith No More keyboardist had a specific goal of the type of book he wanted to steer clear of. “The kind that has pictures in the middle,” he notes, during a video call from Oxnard, California, where he is completing a new album with his band Imperial Teen. “I have little interest in rock memoirs – they’re the most predictable, name-droppy, sub-literature experiences.”
The Royal We avoids being name-droppy – Bottum omits the surnames of his fellow musicians. And while he describes the team’s early days and formative stages, this takes a back seat to his “teenage exploits” in San Francisco, “in an era pre-internet, when the city was still untouched.” Much of the attention is on his sexual awakening, and how the associated hiddenness and shame have shaped 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 seeking encounters in restrooms and parks as a teenager are narrated boldly and without regret. “I had sex with older men in bushes,” he writes. “Initially with shame, later with pride. Fuck off.”
“During presentations, I open with that segment,” he comments. “I recognize the inflammatory nature of such remarks; it’s highly improper. But I’m not ashamed. With Trump in power, my truth needs to be shouted loud, to oppose the prejudice, the transphobic and discriminatory views.” He stops. “I aim to stir controversy. My relatives include religious conservatives, and My goal is to unsettle their family gatherings through this work. Because they’ll all read it.”
The memoir starts on the teenage Bottum moving from his birthplace Los Angeles. “San Francisco offered a sharp contrast to LA’s glossy surface,” he notes. “Chilly. Gloomy. People with dyed black hair and white faces, people doing crystal meth and heroin. The queer culture that existed in San Francisco was all so different from Los Angeles. It was inspiring.”
Becoming Part of Faith No More
It’s here, in 1981, that Bottum joined Faith No Man (later Faith No More) with Billy Gould and Mike Bordin, enhancing their “pummelling rhythm section” with “an element of grace over the gloom. Rock bands didn’t have keyboards then.” They rotate vocalists, including – for a short time – Courtney Love, the memoir’s most vivid character, an fearless source of disorder setting apartments ablaze and creating adversaries wherever she went.
“Courtney and I instantly recognized our deep connection,” Bottum states. Their close bond briefly blurred into a sexual relationship, causing pregnancy and abortion; later, Bottum became a trusted confidant of Love and her husband, Kurt Cobain. Far from the grunge Lady Macbeth of misogynist legend, Bottum portrays Love as someone with wit, vitality and agency.
“Courtney had a hard go of it,” he nods. “An influential yet disputed individual, and highly intelligent. That makes for a compelling subject in writing. Her nature is caring and understanding, and a lot of people aren’t exposed to that. Yet we shared a deep bond and supported one another.”
Faith No More’s Formative Years
The nascent Faith No More were, Bottum confesses, “completely ridiculous.” Their music centred around driving, repetitive riffs played freely while under the influence of multiple substances, including MDMA, while their frontman, alcoholic oddball Chuck Mosley, “was not a skilled singer.” But they had drive. “Everyone in our scene was into goth and dark stuff, but we adored mainstream media and artists. In some crazy way, we imagined we were part of that mix. Yet we were far from glamorous or appealing.”
But their cynical fusion song We Care a Lot became a minor MTV hit in 1988, Mosley handed over vocals to the visually appealing 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, jump-cutting instead to their unsuccessful period on Guns N’ Roses and Metallica’s 1992 stadium tour.
“Heroin served as my coping mechanism for hidden truths.”
The Big Tour Experience
It was, Bottum remarks, “the biggest tour that had ever happened.” But Faith No More were quickly distanced by the “poisonous” rock’n’roll circus they’d clambered aboard; in the memoir, he recounts an uncomfortable encounter with fans recruited for GN’R’s entertainment. “The toxic masculinity exuded by that group was stifling,” he explains. “They had that song One In a Million, with the N word and the F word [faggot], and that was the vibe backstage. I wanted no involvement. We didn’t want to loan our credibility, our culture, our individuality to this poison.”
The tour – from which Faith No More were fired two weeks early, for criticizing GN’R in the press – marked a critical juncture for Bottum. “I had to embrace my true self,” he affirms, “to discuss my sexuality, to separate myself from this negative setting.” Against his managers’ advice, he announced he was gay 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 Bob Mould. This fueled my frustration. I needed to put myself on that page of history, 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 journeyed with his boyfriend on the tourbus. “Their tolerant attitudes meant they’d have understood,” he says. “The harm caused by societal homophobia then, the impact of internalized stigma.” He found instant acceptance from Cobain, the Nirvana frontman who was the proud antithesis of the gender bias and discrimination that had blighted the GN’R tour. “Kurt was a rare find,” Bottum says softly. “He wanted to be gay – Kurt loved the provocation of that. That likely strengthened our bond. My sexuality was something he valued. His character was remarkable.”
Bottum grew close to Cobain and Love, the trio bonded at the time by substance dependence. Bottum