I'm stuck in a Patton loop. Faith No More peaked my interest, but it was the Mr. Bungle era that got me hooked, and due to the prolific nature of the beast I feel compelled to listen to everything the man touches. However, in recent times cracks have started to appear, and it makes me wonder whether the golden touch has turned to brass.
So then along comes a new Tomahawk record. Salvation at last! The quasi-rap-rock of Peeping Tom will be a distant memory, replaced by the altogether more consistent Tomahawk. Their last record Mit Gas was a triumph in a genre of music that is no easier to define, but at least sits in a better spot of the spectrum. And with Battle's Mirrored still fresh in the mind, surely some of the momentum built up by John Stanier as drummer will wear off.
So what the fuck happened?
Tomahawk made a Fantomas record. Ancient American Indian songs by Anonymous composers 're-interpreted'. Seriously? The perfect accessible yet confronting nature of Mit Gas replaced with droning repetitive, off-kilter rhythms accomanied by Mike Patton's chanting.
The material is good. That's not the problem here. The problem is that in the universe in which I thought we lived in, Patton and Duane Denison would have started a new band to record this material, and would have released it to rave reviews. But instead they have shattered the expectations of fans of Tomahawk, by inflicting on them their own whimsical wishes. The result is in no uncertain terms confusing, and quite frankly it makes me angry.
8 for the music, 4 for the fuckover.