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When Roddy Bottum began writing his impressive autobiography The Royal We, the keyboard player for Faith No More had a specific goal of the kind of book he did not wish to create. “The sort featuring mid-book images,” he says, in a video call from Oxnard, California, where he is finishing a new album with his musical project Imperial Teen. “I have little interest in rock memoirs – they tend to be cliché, full of name-dropping, and low on literary merit.”

The Royal We certainly isn’t name-droppy – Bottum omits the surnames of his fellow musicians. And while he describes the band’s beginnings and formative stages, this is secondary to his “youth escapades” in San Francisco, “before the internet, before that city got ruined.” Much of the attention is on his personal journey with identity, and how the associated hiddenness and shame have shaped his life. “As a teenager, at 13 or 14, I began intimate encounters with men,” he explains. “It was deeply forbidden, and that defined my life’s path.” In the memoir, events involving his seeking encounters in restrooms and parks as a teenager are described without hesitation and without regret. “Intimate moments occurred with older men in outdoor hideaways,” he records. “First filled with guilt, then with confidence. Back off.”

“At book events, I begin by reading that part,” he says. “I recognize the inflammatory nature of such remarks; it’s so inappropriate. But I have no regret. In the era of Trump, my story must be proclaimed, to combat the prejudice, the anti-transgender and discriminatory views.” He stops. “I seek to challenge norms. Some of my family members are devout Christians, and I fully plan to disrupt their holiday meal with this publication. Because they’ll all read it.”

The memoir opens on the teenage Bottum relocating from his birthplace Los Angeles. “San Francisco offered a sharp contrast to LA’s glossy surface,” he observes. “Bitter. Shadowy. Figures sporting dark hair and light makeup, individuals using hard drugs like meth and heroin. The queer culture that existed in San Francisco was all so different from Los Angeles. It was inspiring.”

Entering the Band Faith No More

It’s here, in 1981, that Bottum joined Faith No Man (later Faith No More) with Billy Gould and Mike Bordin, complementing 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 bold instigator of turmoil lighting homes on fire and creating adversaries wherever she went.

“Courtney and I both knew right away that we were soulmates,” Bottum states. Their non-romantic relationship temporarily shifted into a sexual relationship, leading to pregnancy and abortion; later, Bottum became a reliable friend of Love and her husband, Kurt Cobain. Unlike the vilified image some hold, Bottum depicts Love as someone with intelligence, vitality and independence.

“Courtney had a hard go of it,” he nods. “An influential yet disputed individual, 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. However, our relationship was tight, and we looked out for each other.”

Faith No More’s Formative Years

The nascent Faith No More were, Bottum confesses, “completely ridiculous.” Their music centred around insistent, weighty rhythms played freely while under the influence of various drugs, including MDMA, while their frontman, eccentric drinker Chuck Mosley, “was not a skilled singer.” But they had drive. “Everyone in our scene was into goth and dark stuff, but we were fans of pop culture icons. Somehow, we felt connected to that world. Yet we were far from glamorous or appealing.”

But their cynical fusion song We Care a Lot became a minor MTV hit in 1988, Mosley stepped down 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 linger over this triumph, skipping ahead instead to their disastrous stint on Guns N’ Roses and Metallica’s 1992 stadium tour.

“I used heroin to numb the pain of my concealed life.”

The Big Tour Experience

It was, Bottum notes, “the biggest tour that had ever happened.” But Faith No More were quickly alienated by the “toxic” rock’n’roll circus they’d joined; in the memoir, he recounts an disturbing encounter with groupies recruited for GN’R’s entertainment. “The toxic masculinity exuded by that group was stifling,” he says. “That song featured derogatory language, and that reflected the atmosphere offstage. I didn’t want any part of it. We resisted sacrificing our values for this negativity.”

The tour – from which Faith No More were sacked two weeks early, for badmouthing GN’R in the press – marked a turning point for Bottum. “I needed to be who I was,” he affirms, “to discuss my sexuality, 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. “Mercury kept his identity private. Michael Stipe didn’t talk about it, nor the metal icon, nor Bob Mould. I felt enraged. It was essential to document my story, to get people to accept a queer person in music. And I met so many kids who were queer, who felt my being a queer person in music made a difference to them.”

Overcoming Addiction

Bottum hadn’t even discussed his sexuality with his group, even though he journeyed with his boyfriend on the tourbus. “They were accepting and would have supported me,” he comments. “The harm caused by societal homophobia then, the impact of internalized stigma.” He found instant acceptance from Cobain, the Nirvana frontman who was the proud antithesis of the sexism and homophobia that had tainted the GN’R tour. “Kurt was like a unicorn,” Bottum says softly. “He wanted to be gay – Kurt loved the provocation of that. I think that’s why we were really good friends. He appreciated my openness and presence. He was a very special person.”

Bottum became intimate to Cobain and Love, the trio connected at the time by heroin addiction. Bottum