‘I was the only out queer guy in rock’: the band Faith No More’s Roddy Bottum Reveals His Journey.

As Roddy Bottum embarked on crafting his impressive autobiography The Royal We, the keyboard player for Faith No More had a clear vision of the sort of book he wanted to steer clear of. “The sort featuring mid-book images,” he notes, during a video call from Oxnard, California, where he is completing a new album with his group Imperial Teen. “I’m not a big fan of rock memoirs – they tend to be cliché, full of name-dropping, and low on literary merit.”

The Royal We is definitely not name-droppy – Bottum omits the surnames of his fellow musicians. And while he details the band’s beginnings and initial growth, this plays a lesser role to his “youth escapades” in San Francisco, “prior to the digital age, before the city’s decline.” Much of the focus is on his personal journey with identity, and how the associated hiddenness and shame have affected his life. “From a young age, around 13 or 14, I engaged in sexual relations with men,” he explains. “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 without hesitation and without regret. “I engaged with older men in secluded areas,” he records. “First filled with guilt, then with confidence. Get lost.”

“At book events, I begin by reading that part,” he declares. “I recognize the inflammatory nature of such remarks; it’s utterly unseemly. But I’m not ashamed. Amid political shifts, my reality requires bold expression, to fight the racism, the anti-trans and homophobic mindsets.” He pauses. “I want to be provocative. I have relatives who are Christian people, and it’s absolutely my intention to ruin their Thanksgiving dinner with this book. As they are sure to peruse it.”

The memoir begins on the teenage Bottum shifting from his native Los Angeles. “San Francisco was an abrupt about-face from the sunny superficiality of LA,” he notes. “Cold. Shadowy. 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.”

Joining Faith No More

In 1981, Bottum became a member of Faith No Man, which evolved into Faith No More with Billy Gould and Mike Bordin, enhancing their “driving beat section” with “an element of grace over the gloom. Most rock acts avoided keyboards back then.” They rotate vocalists, including – briefly – Courtney Love, the memoir’s most vivid character, an unabashed chaos agent causing domestic havoc and making enemies at every turn.

“Courtney and I both knew right away that we were soulmates,” Bottum says. Their platonic friendship momentarily crossed into a sexual relationship, causing pregnancy and abortion; later, Bottum became a reliable friend of Love and her husband, Kurt Cobain. Contrary to the negative stereotypes, Bottum describes Love as someone with wit, energy and independence.

“Courtney had a hard go of it,” he agrees. “An influential yet disputed individual, and highly intelligent. That makes for a compelling subject in writing. She’s a warm, compassionate person, and a lot of people aren’t exposed to that. However, our relationship was tight, and we looked out for each other.”

The Band’s Beginnings

The early Faith No More were, Bottum admits, “completely ridiculous.” Their music focused on repetitive heavy grooves jammed out while under the influence of assorted narcotics, including MDMA, while their frontman, eccentric drinker Chuck Mosley, “didn’t have a good singing voice.” But they had aspiration. “Our peers favored gothic and somber themes, but we were fans of pop culture icons. In some crazy way, we imagined we were part of that mix. Yet we were far from glamorous or appealing.”

But their sardonic rock-rap anthem 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 genuine, award-recognized success. As usual, The Royal We doesn’t focus on this triumph, jump-cutting instead to their ill-fated tour on Guns N’ Roses and Metallica’s 1992 stadium tour.

“The heroin was me self-medicating, so I could feel OK about living all these secrets.”

The Big Tour Experience

It was, Bottum says, “the largest concert series of its time.” But Faith No More were quickly estranged by the “toxic” rock’n’roll circus they’d entered; in the memoir, he tells an uncomfortable 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 set the tone behind the scenes. I didn’t want any part of it. We resisted sacrificing our values for this negativity.”

The tour – from which Faith No More were fired two weeks early, for badmouthing GN’R in the press – marked a critical juncture for Bottum. “I had to embrace my true self,” he declares, “to open up about being queer, to separate myself from this toxic environment.” Against his managers’ advice, he came out in the pages of the Advocate the following year. “I stood alone as an openly gay man in rock music,” he states. “Freddie Mercury never publicly acknowledged his sexuality. Stipe avoided the subject, nor Rob Halford, nor Hüsker Dü’s member. This fueled my frustration. I had to claim my place in history, to get people to accept a queer person in music. I encountered numerous young LGBTQ+ individuals inspired by my visibility.”

Challenges and Recovery

Bottum kept private his sexuality with his group, even though he toured with his boyfriend on the tourbus. “Their tolerant attitudes meant they’d have understood,” 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 clear opposite of the gender bias and homophobia that had marred the GN’R tour. “Kurt was like a unicorn,” Bottum says softly. “Cobain enjoyed challenging norms through identity. That likely strengthened our bond. He appreciated my openness and presence. His character was remarkable.”

Bottum grew close to Cobain and Love, the trio bonded at the time by drug use. Bottum

David Jackson
David Jackson

Elara Vance is a digital strategist with over a decade of experience helping businesses optimize their online marketing efforts for measurable growth.