10,000 Days

Who are you to wave your finger?
So full of it
Eyeballs deep in muddy waters
Fuckin' hypocrite -- The Pot

Enjoying the new Tool CD immensely thus far. I had a humongous review/band retrospective saved in draft mode from last weekend's aborted attempt, and deleted it the entire thing. Between the decoy tracks and the sense of immediacy (necessary for a decent music review), it just begged for a complete re-do, rather than the mere overhaul I had planned. Plus the added benefit of having listened to the actual official release something like 8-10 times over the last several days, letting it all sink in, which with Tool's music, much more so than that of most bands, is a must. As for the band retrospective part of it, upon further review, that seemed like unnecessary navel-gazing (not that we ever do that here, oh heavens no). Not to mention that Tool has cultivated a large and devoted fan base who know what they're getting into in the first place.

It says a lot about the band that the first radio single, Vicarious, is over seven minutes in length, mostly in 10/8 time, and is still a fantastic radio song that has that visceral impact that great music has. Social commentary abounds, as it always does with these guys, and Maynard's willingness to get in and wallow around in what he's criticizing ("We all feel the same, so why can't we just admit it?") keeps the sharp observations from being hectoring or smug. Rather than a stern finger pointing at the lower human condition, Tool prefer the strategy of holding up a mirror and letting people see for themselves. It's effective, and better yet, musical. Vicarious is a scathing indictment at the culture of creepy voyeurism that has always been around, but has slouched into cost-effective prominence since the dawn of the fabled New Millennium, when things were supposed to change for the better.

There are not many "songs" here, in the usual sense, but rather "pieces", usually with some sort of intro piece. The two-part Wings For Marie suite, clocking in at over 17 minutes total, serves as the spiritual anchor to the entire set, without really having what would conventionally be described as a "verse" or "chorus". But its message of loss (Maynard's mother) and spiritual strength (and by extension, the hypocrisy of others) reverberates throughout. Similarly, the Lost Keys (Blame Hofmann)/Rosetta Stoned suite suggest, through the cinematic scope of the first part and the King Crimson-esque pummelling of the second, an everyman doing his damndest to work through the malaise of modern life, only to be confounded and overwhelmed by it all. At the heart of it all is that spiritual sickness that seems to be going around.

Finally, though they haven't been explicitly labeled as such anywhere else that I've seen, I've been hearing Intension and Right In Two as symbiotic in nature, the first track suggesting origins of possibility and potential in human nature, the second bemoaning the reality of it all. Where the existential pessimism of Wings For Marie provides the heart of the organic landscape of the entire album, Right In Two finalizes the mindset of it, coming as it does at the end of the set. Most affecting in that piece are the lyrics:

Monkey killing monkey killing monkey over pieces of the ground.
Silly monkeys give them thumbs they make a club and beat their brother down.
How they survive so misguided is a mystery.
Repugnant is a creature who would squander the ability to lift an eye to heaven, conscious of his fleeting time here.

The entire song encapsulates Tool's specialized œuvre, a nine-minute crescendo building from simple message to roaring, roiling, tumultuous climax. One of the unique qualities of Tool has always been that guitarist Adam Jones, as good as he is, has been enough of a team player (as is everyone in this band, really) to step aside, eschew the usual calisthenics that rock guitarists are prone to, and let the rhythm section lead with their amazing polyrhythms, syncopations, and odd time signatures that never feel forced. And Right In Two is a fitting climax to a turbulent, introspective album, with Danny Carey's spectacular drumming, Justin Chancellor's agile bass lines, and Maynard's interpretive, intelligent lyrics weaving throughout, all coming to a boil with passion and precision.

Tool refuse to be co-opted, and they build their pieces meticulously, with energy and patience, a willingness to let the songs breathe. It's hard not to love that ethic, and it's great to see them back after their rather protracted hiatus in top form.