Fantômas
Delìrium Còrdia

Having to select the genre of this album, I found myself in an overwhelming difficulty: how to categorize this third work from the most absurd project of the good Mike Patton? It's simply impossible, and my retreat to the most banal "experimental" is nothing but a disguise for the elusiveness of this Delìrium Còrdia.

The album opens with the sound of the record player's needle noisily touching the record, from which the first mysterious and apocalyptic notes arise. This 55-minute long track is a film, traversing various dreamy and illusory phases, largely concealing the excellent musicians who accompany the ex-Faith No More in this very personal work of art of his, because we are indeed talking about a work of art. Dave Lombardo, Trevor Dunn, and Buzz Osborne are merely part-time workers of Patton’s insane and brilliant mind, which produces and composes this whole long digression into his very personal world.

Memories and new reflections seem to merge into a single mysterious flow, whose path and even less its conclusion, always seem far from being perceived. It's not easy at all to describe an album like this, so inward and so markedly out of the ordinary. In the first twenty minutes, it really feels like being trapped in a Lynch or Cronenberg film, and the sense of claustrophobia resulting will surely be a common symptom for every listener who wishes to embark on this night journey. After returning to the sound of king for a day from Tomahawk’s last splendid album, Mike offers us another unmissable episode of his rich career, for which, if you love such an eclectic and shape-shifting character, you cannot help but run to your trusted dealer and purchase a copy of Delìrium Còrdia, which, among other virtues, has a truly well-curated artwork. By Patton himself.
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