At this point, band reunions seem more inevitable than surprising. Yet there are some bands where, in the words of Big Daddy Kane, “you’d sooner see the Pink Panther speaking” than see back together. Faith No More seemed to be one of those bands. After the band dissolved following 1997’s Album of the Year, the members went on to other pursuits: Mike “Puffy” Bordin manned the drum stool for Ozzy for a number of years, keyboardist/guitarist Roddy Bottum had Imperial Teen, bassist Billy Gould spent time as a label head and producer as well as playing with Jello Biafra and the Guantanamo School of Medicine for a stint, and Mike Patton proceeded to work on a staggering amount of projects. Basically, no one was sitting at home twiddling their thumbs. The band got back together for a series of reunion shows in 2009 and 2010, a brief South American tour in 2011, and a one-off in France in 2012, but afterwards they simultaneously suggested that the reunion had run its course and Faith No More was over once again. Turns out that wasn’t the truth, as they have resurfaced with a new album, Sol Invictus (Reclamation Recordings).

Admittedly, Sol Invictus isn’t the “proper” Faith No More reunion for which some fans might be hoping, as founding guitarist Jim Martin decided to sit this one out. But it does see the band reunited with Album of the Year guitarist Jon Hudson, and Faith No More has always been a versatile and fairly contrary band. With the release of Angel Dust, the follow-up to the platinum The Real Thing, the band carved out its own niche in which they were able to move amongst a variety of styles. As such, there’s a lot of possible scenarios for a Faith No More record, but this one definitely sounds like the logical follow-up to Album of the Year without trying to recapture anything. Unlike some reunited bands, Faith No More knows what makes them them. It might be tempting to view Sol Invictus as an attempt to take care of unfinished business, but Faith No More died as it lived, on its own terms. While the labels were more than happy to repackage and mine the nostalgia, the band never seemed to have much time for looking back. Yet there’s no denying the preserved in amber aspect of the album. It’s almost like they didn’t want to get too weird on the first outing back. There’s nothing that will slide comfortably into a Target commercial, but there also aren’t any “what the hell” moments. But what it may lack in unexpectedness it makes up for in sheer songcraft and performance. With Gould manning the boards, the delicate moments stand as strongly as the instances of in-your-face power. It’s almost unnerving how locked in and note-perfect the band is. While everyone is on their A-game, special praise must be given to Patton’s ability to flip between a gravedigger’s growl, a smooth R&B croon, and unhinged screams, as well as to Bordin’s mechanical yet musical approach to the drums.

It’s seems fitting that Faith No More announced their return with the release of a song with a title so radio-unfriendly (“Motherfucker”). It’s like they wanted to let people know right off the bat that they’re going to play by their own set of rules—again. While radio programmers may not know what to do with them, for long time fans and even latecomers Sol Invictus does not disappoint. The only point of contention is that at after 18 years gone, having a record clock in at 39 minutes feels like a tease. Still, it’s better to leave on a tight high note than to pad for the sake of padding. May this be the first chapter in the new book of Faith No More.