By Bree Davies
By Emerald O'Brien
By Gina Tron
By Jon Solomon
By Drew Ailes
By Courtney Harrell
By Kyra Scrimgeour
When Mike Patton first brought Fant么mas to life in 1998, the term he used to describe the band's work was "uneasy listening." That's a tremendous understatement when applied to its third and latest album, Delirium Cordia -- which consists of one continuous 74-minute piece of music called "Surgical Sound Specimens From the Museum of Skin." It is, without a doubt, one of the most challenging aural experiences you will ever lay ears upon. Anxiety-ridden and mordant, the piece paints a hauntingly surreal picture of surgery from a subjective point of view; you, the listener, are made to feel like you're on an operating table, and the anesthetic doesn't feel good. The mood is downright nightmarish, a real testament to the evocative power of music.
Even the tough, resolved listener who doesn't frighten easily will still have to face the album's artwork, which contains graphic photographs taken during surgical procedures. It could be argued that the images are gratuitous, but they were taken with noble intentions. In fact, photographer Max Aguilera-Hellweg's work was inspired by a reverent exploration of the human body that ultimately led to his enrolling in medical school and becoming a doctor.
And if the carnage in the photos and the music isn't enough to rattle you, there's something else: the sound effects. Samples of stuff like a nurse saying "Flatline" and the sound of steel hacking through flesh are certain to, well, get under your skin. "It's totally full of anxiety and stress," confirms bassist Trevor Dunn. "It's not like something you put on in the background and whistle away. It's really kind of disturbing in a way."
Still, it's not all harrowing. Although surgery is undeniably physical, the album's long, restrained passages also suggest an otherworldly spirituality. In other words, Mike Patton's near-death trip of a record, while unflinchingly real, strives for something higher.
In 1988, Patton and Dunn were both playing in a San Francisco band called Mr. Bungle when Patton caught the attention of Faith No More, which was searching for a new singer. Because Patton's first national exposure came with FNM's The Real Thing (his debut with the band and by far its most accessible record), his career is often misinterpreted as "the guy from the funk-metal combo goes avant-garde." In reality, the album -- and Patton's feeble, second-rate, Anthony Kiedis-style rapping -- stands out as a commercial anomaly in both Patton's and Faith No More's collective discographies. Patton had displayed eccentric tendencies before The Real Thing and has continued to ever since; Delirium should cement his reputation not only as a modern-day visionary, but as one of the world's foremost avant-garde composers.
For a composer he is. Dunn points out that unlike Mr. Bungle, Fant么mas does not work collaboratively. He believes that collaborative bands often get locked in the "too many cooks spoil the soup" kitchen. Not so with his current group, which is rounded out by Melvins guitarist Buzz Osborne and legendary Slayer drummer Dave Lombardo.
"One of the things I like about Fant么mas is that it's Patton's vision," Dunn says. "He writes music. He lets us know what he wants, and the other bandmembers try and do their best to realize that. There's really not a whole lot of improvisation. There's a little bit which we might milk live, but in general, Mike's got a pretty clear vision of what this music is. I mean, down to really minute details, like what cymbals he wants Dave to play in what section, what kind of distortion he wants me to use -- really specific."
Though Fant么mas takes all four of its members out of the contexts in which they are best known, there is still a "supergroup" aspect to the lineup. Dunn says Patton put the band together over the phone. "He and I had been talking about doing this metal band for a while, and to me it was just like, 'Oh, yeah, [it's just] some idea,' and next thing I know, he's got this demo of all these tunes he's written, and he's trying to think, 'Ah, who should we get for drums and guitar?'" Dunn recalls. "So we didn't know what the chemistry was going to be like at all. It could have been a complete disaster."
Delirium and its predecessor, The Director's Cut, an assemblage of reworked movie themes, were recorded by Norah Jones engineer Husky Hoskulds. "Blue Note made [Jones] go back and redo [Come Away With Me], 'cause it was too interesting," Dunn says with a laugh. "[Hoskulds] did work on some of the stuff they salvaged for the record that was released. He won a Grammy for that. So we went for that Grammy Award-winning sound."
Turns out these sessions were a twofer: Delirium was recorded in tandem with the next Fant么mas album. Fant么mas simply recorded a bunch of music, and then Patton chose which of the two records to put the pieces on. Dunn says the next one will be more like the 1999 comic-book record, albeit with a twist. "It's short, chopped-up metal songs, but there's this cartoon theme going on, as opposed to this one that just came out with the medical-surgery theme," he says. "A lot of cartoon sound effects interspersed with the metal. It definitely sounds more like a band than Delirium does, which to me doesn't sound like a band at all. It sounds more like a collage."