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Exactly one year ago today, a noise passed through my lips not dissimilar to that made by a hyena on heat. Lingering in the depths of my diaphragm for nearly a decade, the sound was jolted out of me by nineteen words – “We’ve decided to hold our collective breaths and jump off this cliff….BACK, GOD FORBID, INTO THE MONKEY CAGE!!!”

In the year since Faith No More announced they would be “giving it another go”, fans the world over have been cradling their King For A Day tour t-shirts and spinning Angel Dust in frantic anticipation of the second coming. And as I stand on day 361, immersed in a throng of black-clad disciples, heaving from an electrocuting mix of testosterone and adrenalin, it is disarmingly evident that the time is nigh.

Slinking on stage to the sultry sound of John Barry’s Midnight Cowboy, all peach suit and melodica, Mike Patton is at first glance more Andy Williams than Metal Messiah. Over the course of 20 songs, Patton will tease us relentlessly with these two conflicting personas – one moment conducting us to sway in unison whilst he croons through Easy, the next propelling us into an head-banging frenzy, whilst he stalks the stage spitting out the words to Ricochet. It is confusing, exciting and pure Faith No More.

There is nothing more superb than watching a band that has been playing together for twenty years with a back-catalogue as immense as FNM’s. Always phenomenal players, Puffy, Billy and Roddy prove that age (and a ten year break) has only made them stronger.

More importantly, however, each member is also so evidently overjoyed to be standing in the room, feeding their fans what they have wanted for so long. There is not a whiff of “we like our new stuff better than our old stuff” or “we did it for the money”. And the crowd responds to this accordingly.

Patton conducts his men through the kind of set-list dreams are made of (except perhaps for those who live in hope of Falling To Pieces being played live). Caffeine, Epic and a deafening The Gentle Art of Making Enemies are all mopped up by a sea of adulators.

We are unashamedly put under a Patton-induced trance and when he raises an eyebrow whilst musing “whatever you are doing out there Sydney, you are doing it well”, I swear you can hear the audience blush.

Interestingly, Ashes To Ashes conjures the biggest reaction of the night (or perhaps we had simply been encouraged by Patton’s seductive praise), and when the band finish on Just A Man one song later, there is no doubt that they will be returning for more.

After two encores, which include Digging The Grave and Introduce Yourself, Patton leaves us with an unusual parting gift – a cover of Sparks’ This Town Ain’t Big Enough for Both of Us. But frankly after two hours and 20 songs, we will take whatever he wants to give us.

Now, as we sit back in our lounge-rooms listening to Angel Dust on repeat, wearing our Second Coming t-shirts, we can only hope that one day in the not-too-distant future there will be a third.