Mike Patton’s most famous lyric is: “You want it all, but you can’t have it.” As the chorus of Faith No More’s 1990 rap-metal megahit Epic, it’s a line that has entered the Top 10 in three countries and has been heard on streaming services more than 200m times. Yet the singer’s omnivorous career over the three decades since has somewhat proven the lie in those words.
Ever since he joined Faith No More in 1988, while still fronting his high school band Mr Bungle, Patton has followed his every muse to become rock’s most prolific multitasker. His CV is as immense as it is eclectic, ranging from the avant garde grindcore of Fantômas to the mind-bending noise/folk fusion of Tētēma. He has also fronted prog-metal idols the Dillinger Escape Plan, scored a host of films and provided the anguished screams of the zombies in the 2007 Will Smith vehicle I Am Legend. Even if he is not a household name, you have at some point heard Mike Patton’s voice in your home.
“Jumping between projects used to be frowned upon,” says Patton, 54, talking by phone from his home in San Francisco. “Even in the bands that I was in, they didn’t like it. Faith No More, their management didn’t like me being in another band. I said: ‘Yo, there’s no competition here; it’s just me being an artist! I need to do and say other things with a different structure.’”
Since his ascent to the mainstream with Epic and its parent album The Real Thing (Patton’s debut with Faith No More), Patton positioned himself as rock’s anti-rock star. When Faith No More supported Guns N’ Roses on a 1992 stadium run, Patton clashed with the headliners over their antisocial attitude. “Guns N’ Roses pissed us off because they didn’t talk to us,” he says. “At a certain point, we started talking shit in the press, and then they got pissed off and threatened to fire us off the tour. We were like: ‘OK. If we deserve it, then fine.’ But they didn’t do it.” The tension escalated to the point that, mid-tour, Patton peed on Axl Rose’s Teleprompter.
That anti-industry stance has extended to speaking to the press. When Patton won the microphone-shaped Bay Area Music award for best male vocalist in 1991, his acceptance speech was simply: “Behold! The magnificent golden dildo!” Fifteen years later, he famously stopped an on-camera interview to talk about how much he hates Sydney throwback rockers Wolfmother. Although Patton seldom sits for interviews, today he is a slightly more compliant conversationalist. Each word is carefully thought through, as if he is wary of the potential for sensationalist headlines. I get the sense he wants to keep me at arm’s length; it isn’t until we bond over the fact that his dog refuses to shut up during our interview, as my cat often does, that the conversation gets more natural.
We talk about Patton’s childhood in the small town of Eureka, California, and how a backdrop with no music scene ironically shaped his eclectic career. “It was fucking horrible,” he says. “It was: ‘Rednecks v loggers: which side are you on?’ And I was like: ‘I don’t care! I hate ’em all!’ In an artistic sense, there was zero. One band would come in – like [LA funk rockers] Fishbone, who influenced Mr Bungle a lot – and then we’d see some punk bands, and we’d have to just play with them and amalgamate.”
Patton co-founded Mr Bungle in the mid-80s with his Eureka high school chums Trevor Dunn and Trey Spruance. The band began as a thrash metal force allegiant to Anthrax and Slayer, but their repertoire quickly expanded to include ska, funk, jazz and swing. Their first two demos caught the ear of Faith No More’s extreme metal maniac of a guitarist Jim Martin and – when singer Chuck Mosley was fired amid creative differences – earned Patton a job for which he would ultimately accrue three Grammy nominations.
Extreme metal remained a part of Patton’s lifeblood. Not only did Mr Bungle return to thrash with their 2020 re-recording of 1986’s Raging Wrath of the Easter Bunny demo, but the singer also helms Dead Cross: a grindcore rabble rounded out by bassist Justin Pearson, guitarist Mike Crain and ex-Slayer drummer Dave Lombardo. “Which is the band we’re meant to be talking about, motherfucker!” Patton says sharply yet (I think) jokingly.
That’s why Patton is talking today, to promote Dead Cross’s second album, II. “This record was forged through Covid, cancer and alcoholism,” he summarises – and the pain becomes audible through nine tracks of anarchic thrash and punk. The cancer was Crain’s: the guitarist was diagnosed with squamous cell carcinoma in July 2019. “He’s the strongest fucking guy,” says Patton. “He’s not the guy you’d think would come down with cancer. But he did, and a lot of that went into the Dead Cross record: a lot of weird pain and fear. It’s hard to explain, but it made the record better.”
Crain ultimately went into remission and recovered, while channelling his anger and fright into an album that he now claims saved his life. Then Covid hit – and Patton adored it. “My initial response to the pandemic was: ‘I love this shit!’,” he admits with a laugh. “It allowed me to be an antisocial motherfucker! I had maybe three months of that: ‘This is fucking awesome!’ Then something changed – and not for the better.”
As the pandemic progressed, the singer grew depressed. He was diagnosed with agoraphobia. He began drinking heavily. Fans were none the wiser until December 2021, when Faith No More – who had already rescheduled what were going to be their first shows in four years due to Covid – cancelled all touring plans. They wrote in a statement: “We believe that forging ahead with these dates would have had a profoundly destructive effect on Mike.”
“Because I was isolated so much, going outside was a hard thing to do,” Patton says, “and that’s a horrible thing. And the idea of doing more Faith No More shows – it was stressful. It affected me mentally. I don’t know why, but the drinking just … happened.”
Faith No More have no plans to reschedule their cancelled gigs, Patton admits. However, he is returning to the stage in December, playing across South America with Mr Bungle. He struggles with remembering the exact date he stopped drinking, but says he has now been sober “for a while” and is “doing pretty good”. He is excited to get back on the road, “but I’m also afraid”, he says.
Of what? “I’m afraid of myself. The band is rock solid and I want to make sure that I bring it. There are a few issues going on.” The question of what those issues are receives an agitated growl. “I don’t know if I wanna tell you.”
Whatever problems persist, they are certainly not stopping Patton from working. He is beaming when he reveals that he’s already working on his next album. “I can’t tell you about it, but it’s very outside my comfort zone,” he teases. “You would never recognise me – and that’s the way I like it.”
Between Dead Cross, Mr Bungle’s impending tour and this mystery pursuit, Patton remains as productive as ever, leading me to wonder: given his wide-ranging catalogue, what does he want his legacy to be? “I. Don’t. Give. A. Shit,” he says.
• II by Dead Cross is out on 28 October on Ipecac.
