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When Roddy Bottum embarked on crafting his impressive autobiography The Royal We, the musician from Faith No More had a clear vision of the type of book he did not wish to create. “The kind that has pictures in the middle,” he notes, in a video call from Oxnard, California, where he is completing a new album with his band Imperial Teen. “I’m not a big fan of rock memoirs – they often follow a tired formula, laden with famous names and lacking depth.”

The Royal We is definitely not name-droppy – Bottum omits the surnames of his bandmates. And while he outlines the group’s origins and early development, this is secondary to his “youth escapades” in San Francisco, “prior to the digital age, before the city’s decline.” Much of the emphasis is on his personal journey with identity, and how the related secrecy and shame have affected his life. “I was having sex with men when I was very young, 13 or 14,” he states. “It was such a taboo, and that set the tone of my life.” In the memoir, incidents involving his cruising public toilets and parks as a teenager are described unflinchingly and defiantly. “Intimate moments occurred with older men in outdoor hideaways,” he records. “Shamefully at first, proudly later. Get lost.”

“When I do readings, I start with that section,” he declares. “I am aware of the shock value in those words; it’s so inappropriate. But I’m not ashamed. Amid political shifts, my reality requires bold expression, to combat the bigotry, the transphobic and anti-gay attitudes.” He pauses. “I want to be provocative. My relatives include religious conservatives, and it’s absolutely my intention to ruin their Thanksgiving dinner with this book. Since they will inevitably read it.”

The memoir opens on the teenage Bottum relocating from his native Los Angeles. “San Francisco was an abrupt about-face from the sunny superficiality of LA,” he says. “Bitter. Shadowy. Figures sporting dark hair and light makeup, people doing crystal meth and heroin. The LGBTQ+ scene in San Francisco stood in stark contrast to LA’s. 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, enhancing their “pummelling rhythm section” with “a sense of beauty atop that darkness. Most rock acts avoided keyboards back then.” They try out vocalists, including – temporarily – Courtney Love, the memoir’s most striking figure, an bold instigator of turmoil setting apartments ablaze and making enemies at every turn.

“Courtney and I both knew right away that we were soulmates,” Bottum states. Their platonic friendship briefly blurred into a physical connection, causing pregnancy and abortion; later, Bottum became a reliable friend of Love and her husband, Kurt Cobain. Contrary to the negative stereotypes, Bottum portrays Love as someone with intelligence, vitality and independence.

“Life was difficult for Courtney,” he agrees. “An influential yet disputed individual, and so smart. Such a character is fascinating to document. Her nature is caring and understanding, and many fail to see that side. Yet we shared a deep bond and supported one another.”

The Band’s Beginnings

The embryonic Faith No More were, Bottum admits, “absolutely preposterous.” Their music focused on driving, repetitive riffs played freely while under the influence of multiple substances, including MDMA, while their frontman, unconventional addict Chuck Mosley, “didn’t have a good singing voice.” But they had drive. “Our peers favored gothic and somber themes, but we adored mainstream media and artists. Somehow, we felt connected to that world. 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 stepped down to the camera-friendly Mike Patton (who did have a good singing voice), and by 1990 Faith No More’s third album was a bona fide, Grammy-nominated hit. Characteristically, The Royal We doesn’t linger over this triumph, shifting abruptly instead to their disastrous stint 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.”

Touring with Giants

It was, Bottum says, “an unprecedented touring event.” But Faith No More were quickly distanced by the “harmful” rock’n’roll circus they’d clambered aboard; in the memoir, he tells an disturbing encounter with fans recruited for GN’R’s entertainment. “The misogyny and the bravado of the macho dynamic coming from the Guns N’ Roses camp was suffocating,” he explains. “That song featured derogatory language, and that reflected the atmosphere offstage. I didn’t want any part of it. We declined to contribute our identity to such toxicity.”

The tour – from which Faith No More were sacked two weeks early, for criticizing GN’R in the press – marked a critical juncture for Bottum. “It was time to live authentically,” he affirms, “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. “No other rock musician was openly queer at the time,” he states. “Freddie Mercury never publicly acknowledged his sexuality. Stipe avoided the subject, nor Judas Priest’s frontman, nor Hüsker Dü’s member. This fueled my frustration. I needed to put myself on that page of history, to get people to accept a queer person in music. I encountered numerous young LGBTQ+ individuals inspired by my visibility.”

Personal Struggles and Sobriety

Bottum never talked about his sexuality with his group, even though he journeyed with his boyfriend on the tourbus. “Their tolerant attitudes meant they’d have understood,” he says. “The trauma of growing up gay during that time, the impact of internalized stigma.” He found swift approval from Cobain, the Nirvana frontman who was the stark contrast of the misogyny and discrimination that had blighted the GN’R tour. “Cobain was unique,” Bottum says softly. “He wanted to be gay – Kurt loved the provocation of that. That likely strengthened our bond. My sexuality was something he valued. He was a very special person.”

Bottum developed a strong bond to Cobain and Love, the trio bonded at the time by drug use. Bottum