page: 15
 title: "Tool: Tears For Killing Fears"
author: Jim MacNie

	Tool, the L.A. band that spent last summer garnering raves for
their vicious Lollapalooza performances, comes off as some kind of
vanquishing force. "It's a release," explains guitarist Adam Jones, "and
kind of selfish in a way. In L.A. everyone wants to be Axl Rose. Our
music's strictly for us. And, it's true, the lyrics are passionate."

	Which is maybe why Tool comes off so incisive. The observations in
"Bottom" could regard storms under the skin or strategies against social
inequity. "In order to survive you/I must first survive myself/There's no
choice but to confront you, engage you, erase you." It's similar to the
conundrum in "Sober," which is "about a guy whose best comes out when he's
loaded," continues Jones. "People give him shit for it, but we're saying,
'Why chastise him? Leave him the fuck alone.' It's a poetic interpretation
of that conflict."

	Whether or not the demons are deep-sixed is hard to gauge. But on
Undertow, an album of radiant barbs, Tool does manage to sidestep cliches
that rank-and-file ranters sometimes immerse themselves in. The creativity
was initially spurrerd when Jones fell under the spell of Ronald Vincent,
whose 1949 book A Joyful Guide To Lachrymology suggested that tears were
cleansing agents, the residue of rising above whatever pain came your way.
When Tool cry themselves a river, it's made of lava--thick, fluid,
engulfing. Look out for the undertow.