Three 65, Day 1
Mr. Bungle, Mr. Bungle

Believe it or not, I owned this album before I ever picked up a Faith No More album, and the reason for that is simple: the creepy pyro-clown on the cover. This is back before I even bought CDs, when I was out trolling for cassette tapes (before the hipsters made them into the "retro" accouterments they are today). I saw the album, saw the clown, and decided, "I have to have this."

More on the album in a minute - first, we talk more about the art, much of which is culled from the first issue of Louapre & Sweetman's comic book Beautiful Stories For Ugly Children, "A Cotton Candy Autopsy." It's basically a lot of clowns getting trashed on booze and doing things like scaring children and driving drunk (think Shakes The Clown without the ha-has). Besides that interesting introduction, there were also the intriguing song titles - "Squeeze Me Macaroni," "My Ass Is On Fire," "The Girls Of Porn" - to make me want to part with my money in exchange for the album. So, sold, I took the tape home and nearly wore it out trying to make sense of the thing.

Look, there has never been a more schizophrenic album than this one. Genres come and go like so many objects caught in a tornado. Sure, it sounds like metal on first listen, but there's a lot more to it than just that: lounge, acid jazz, punk, funk, and disco all make appearances. The musicians are so good at their individual tasks that the combination of their work makes it sound like an orchestra playing. How they managed to pull off most of these songs live (which they did, for years) is beyond my ability to comprehend.

But hats off to the true star of the album: vocalist Vlad Drac, also known as Mike Patton. When I first heard the record, I thought there were two singers, because I refused to believe anyone could pull off that kind of range without having two heads. Nope, only one singer. Patton goes from threatening growl ("Travolta," also known as "Quote Unquote" after the actor got wind of it) to sinister croon ("Slowly Growing Deaf") to motormouth rapping ("Squeeze Me Macaroni"), and that's just the first three tracks.

Also of note is the band's ability for incorporating found-sound aesthetic into their inter-song segues. The aforementioned "Deaf" ends with what sounds like a man shitting his brains out, and the epic "Egg" closes out the first half of the album with audio of the band (as teenagers) trying to hop a freight train. Listen closely to "Love Is A Fist" and you'll hear a skinhead beating up his son - no shit!

The result of all this work is a truly frightening piece of art. I'm almost numb to it now, after almost 20 years of constant rotation, but if this is your first time with the Bungle, strap in tight and feel the Gs. You won't regret it.