Like most progressive rock and heavy metal-- hell, maybe most popular music in general-- suspension of disbelief is key with Tool. Taken at face value, with their song suites, meat puppet videos, and histrionic singer, they're pretty goofy. People make fun of Tool fans because they assume they take the band seriously-- these spotty, greasy kids with bad shoes and worse hair who already wear an insult on their T-shirts. At 28, I'd feel funny mocking 15-year-olds still finding their place in the world. And as for taking them seriously-- well, I take Tool about as seriously as I do black metal or Lil Jon or the films of Tsui Hark. Which is to say, not very.
A Pitchfork-friendly analogy: Tool are the Radiohead of xFC-metal. Both bands predate scenes they later became avatars for; both were more creative and inspirational than their followers; both were incredibly pretentious; and both still managed to sell an ass-load of records. Tool didn't release an album between 1996 and 2001. They missed xFC-metal's entire rise and fall, an era of whiteboy dreads, bonsai facial hair, funk bass poppin', and constipated balladry. And much like Radiohead when they dropped the Kid A/Amnesiac doubleshot, Tool released Lateralus early in this decade to radio silence and huge numbers.
Like a mall-friendly King Crimson, Lateralus had a starless and bible black sound that actually rocked rather than wittering on, converting complex, mathematic passages into visceral rock. Also like King Crimson, the lyrics were mostly garbage, but goddamn did that rhythm section pummel the shit out of its instruments. As with the Mars Volta's debut, the drums were the lead voice on Lateralus, and Danny Carey was his instrument's Minnie Ripperton.
Five years later, Tool return with *10,000 Days. But rather than delving further into experimentation or exploring their strengths, Tool have made an...A Perfect Circle record. Like singer Maynard James Keenan's side project, 10,000 Days is considerably less punishing and much more ethereal. Songs like "Lost Keys" and "Vigniti Tires" are dark ambient soundscrapes that just make you wonder where the drums went. And when they are there, they're decidedly less brutal than on Lateralus. On "Right in Two" they sound more like bongos. The title track features sitar and tabla. Listening to this album, you get the sinking feeling that Tool have made an art-rock, rather than art-metal, album. And yes, the difference is considerable.
Keenan's vocals are no less powerful here, but your appreciation of his style still depends largely on your feelings towards quasi-operatic hard rock (you know, like emo, except they actually hit the notes they're going for). People who enjoy voices that sound like they're singing into their overcoats to ward off a night chill will probably find it embarrassing. (The white dude version of melisma?) The lyrics-- the usual mix of drug references, conspiracy theories, tortured declarations of vague emotional trauma, and general doom-mongering-- won't do much to convince non-believers. And with most songs stretching from the seven- to 12-minute range-- and without the stop-start whiplash that was the previous albums' definition of rhythm-- it's unlikely that most listeners will possess the patience or fortitude to make the pilgrimage more than a couple of times.
10,000 Days is supposedly named for the amount of time between Keenan's mother becoming paralyzed and when she died, so it's sort of a "Death Disco" for suburban teenage potheads. If only the music had one-tenth of the Public Image Limited song's power. Instead I find myself in the awkward position of trying to sell you on the merits of a deeply uncool band by telling you to go buy their last album instead. But hey, the next time you're sneering at someone in a Tool shirt, just remember how you look walking down the street with the words "The Boy Least Likely To" or "Clap Your Hands Say Yeah" across your chest.
CORRECTION: A previous version of this article contained language that was offensive. It has been removed.
