The last decent Faith No More record, although that's even questionable, as Jim Martin leaves the nest, leaving the band with an almost skeletal sound, the guitars more of an echoing shell of noise that drifts from punky groove to the downright suave, and it's the more subtle moments on the record that save it from being a blur. After the multi-coloured glory of 'The Real Thing' and perversity of 'Angel Dust', FNM are on cruise control. Patton is no longer the shady, serial killing clown, instead donning suit and and glasses, even on the ballsier numbers, he remains more dignified, less sleazy, rasping, rapping and crooning over a variety of odd numbers, but in reality the album doesn't get going until the mighty third track 'Evidence', a swinging lounge bar sway promoted with a cool video to match, again seeing the band border on a bizarre commercialism, but encased around the track are three very average tunes, the punkoid rumble of 'Get Out', 'Ricochet' and 'The Gentle Art Of Making Enemies' which attempts a Mr Bungle awkwardness, but doesn't uplift, scare or dirty like it should, and that's the problem here. Although it's a good record, 'King For A Day...' shouldn't have happened, and I'd have much preferred the band dissipating after the first too Patton-featured monstrosities. Faith No More will always have that ability to shock, destroy and twist but the quirky twang of 'star AD' is a pure and simple Bungle rip-off, it's here the band must be questioned. Roddy Bottom's lush keyboards are patchy, Gould's once skull-thumping bass has become more of a funky regurgitation, whilst Patton leers over this creation as if he's the demented master of ceremonies fully aware of what he's turning this once mighty band into. There's no question that FNM are one of rock's greatest and most original bands, but 'King...' is a step too far, featuring too many moments that even seem out of place among their already diverse and heart-stopping back catalogue, and whilst I am of the opinion that the band do what they want, this is more about individualism instead of a team effort of several weird guys. Maybe they chose to alienate on this record, but 'Angel Dust', even in its vulgar state was an immensely catchy record, but on here there are too many of the same indecipherable patterns where Patton screams, bellows, yelps, and gurgles to the downbeat chug of noise behind him. 'Caralho Voador' provides an intriguing respite from the skull-scraping grind, and the second half of the platter really picks up, taking us back to some of the bands finest moments, the title cut and 'The Last To Know' being true FNM bombastic epic's, 'Just A Man' finishes the album wonderfully, a smooth yet irresistibly catchy swing and Patton proving why he's the greatest rock vocalist on earth.
Of the fourteen cuts there are certainly a handful that make for joyous listening but too many such as 'What A Day' just grate. I guess, as such a fan I'm just being unkind to a band who recorded two of the most amazing records of all time, so to expect a winning formula every time is a little over-expectant. 'King For A Day...' suffers without the gonzoid riffs of Jim Martin, but still shows the world why the band are in a field of their own.
8/10
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