‘I stood as the sole openly queer man in rock music’: the band Faith No More’s Roddy Bottum Speaks Out.
As Roddy Bottum started writing his impressive autobiography The Royal We, the keyboard player for Faith No More had a definite idea of the sort of book he aimed to avoid. “The kind that has pictures in the middle,” he notes, during a video call from Oxnard, California, where he is wrapping up a new album with his musical project Imperial Teen. “I have little interest in rock memoirs – they often follow a tired formula, laden with famous names and lacking depth.”
The Royal We is definitely not name-droppy – Bottum leaves out the surnames of his bandmates. And while he details the band’s beginnings and formative stages, this is secondary to his “adventures as a young person” in San Francisco, “in an era pre-internet, when the city was still untouched.” Much of the emphasis is on his sexual awakening, and how the accompanying concealment and shame have affected his life. “From a young age, around 13 or 14, I engaged in sexual relations with men,” he says. “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 described unflinchingly and unapologetically. “I engaged with older men in secluded areas,” he notes. “Shamefully at first, proudly later. Fuck off.”
“During presentations, I open with that segment,” he comments. “I understand how provocative statements like that are; it’s utterly unseemly. But I’m not ashamed. With Trump in power, my truth needs to be shouted loud, to combat the racism, the anti-transgender and homophobic mindsets.” He halts. “I aim to stir controversy. I have relatives who are Christian people, and I fully plan to disrupt their holiday meal with this publication. Since they will inevitably read it.”
The memoir starts on the teenage Bottum relocating from his home Los Angeles. “The city was a sudden shift from LA’s bright facade,” he notes. “Chilly. Shadowy. 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 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 “a sense of beauty atop that darkness. Keyboards were rare in rock groups at the time.” They cycle through vocalists, including – for a short time – Courtney Love, the memoir’s most memorable personality, an bold instigator of turmoil lighting homes on fire and alienating people constantly.
“Courtney and I instantly recognized our deep connection,” Bottum recalls. Their close bond temporarily shifted into a sexual relationship, causing pregnancy and abortion; later, Bottum became a close advisor of Love and her husband, Kurt Cobain. Unlike the vilified image some hold, Bottum describes Love as someone with cleverness, vitality and self-determination.
“Life was difficult for Courtney,” he concurs. “A controversial woman who’s very powerful, and so smart. That makes for a compelling subject in writing. She possesses kindness and empathy, and a lot of people aren’t exposed to that. But we were very close and took care of each other.”
The Early Days of Faith No More
The embryonic Faith No More were, Bottum acknowledges, “utterly absurd.” Their music centred around driving, repetitive riffs improvised while under the influence of various drugs, including MDMA, while their frontman, alcoholic oddball Chuck Mosley, “was not a skilled singer.” But they had ambition. “Our peers favored gothic and somber themes, but we were fans of pop culture icons. Irrationality, we saw ourselves in that league. However, we lacked any pop charm or allure.”
But their cynical fusion song We Care a Lot became a small-scale success on MTV in 1988, Mosley ceded the mic to the visually appealing Mike Patton (who did have a good singing voice), and by 1990 Faith No More’s third album was a bona fide, Grammy-nominated hit. Typically, The Royal We doesn’t focus on this triumph, skipping ahead 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 remarks, “an unprecedented touring event.” But Faith No More were quickly distanced by the “toxic” rock’n’roll circus they’d joined; in the memoir, he recounts an uncomfortable encounter with followers recruited for GN’R’s entertainment. “The sexism and arrogance from Guns N’ Roses felt overwhelming,” he says. “That song featured derogatory language, and that reflected the atmosphere offstage. I wanted no involvement. We resisted sacrificing our values for this negativity.”
The tour – from which Faith No More were fired two weeks early, for speaking against GN’R in the press – marked a pivotal moment for Bottum. “It was time to live authentically,” he says, “to talk about being gay, to separate myself from this harmful atmosphere.” Against his managers’ advice, he publicly revealed his sexuality in the pages of the Advocate the following year. “No other rock musician was openly queer at the time,” he states. “Mercury kept his identity private. Stipe avoided the subject, nor the metal icon, nor Hüsker Dü’s member. This fueled my frustration. I had to claim my place in history, to encourage acceptance of LGBTQ+ artists. I encountered numerous young LGBTQ+ individuals inspired by my visibility.”
Overcoming Addiction
Bottum never talked about his sexuality with his group, even though he toured with his boyfriend on the tourbus. “They were accepting and would have supported me,” he comments. “The harm caused by societal homophobia then, the damage of the shame and homophobia.” He found instant acceptance from Cobain, the Nirvana frontman who was the clear opposite of the gender bias and discrimination that had blighted the GN’R tour. “Kurt was a rare find,” Bottum whispers. “Cobain enjoyed challenging norms through identity. I think that’s why we were really good friends. He loved that I was gay, that that was a thing he got to be around. He stood out as extraordinary.”
Bottum became intimate to Cobain and Love, the trio united at the time by drug use. Bottum