Publication: The Age Newspaper (Melbourne, Australia)
Date: May, 2001
Transcribed by
Cameron Parrent (parrent@deakin.edu.au)
Cameron Parrent (parrent@deakin.edu.au)
page:
title: Tooling With Your Mind
author: Michael Dwyer
Tooling with your mind
By MICHAEL DWYER
Friday 18 May 2001
"Think for yourself. Question authority," intones the hypnotic
voice that opens Salival, Tool's limited-edition box set of
January, 2001. "Learn how to put yourself in a state of
vulnerable open-mindedness - chaotic, confused vulnerability
- to inform yourself."
The voice belongs to the late Dr Timothy Leary, original
LSD advocate and champion of free-thinkers everywhere.
But the philosophy of enlightenment through mistrust, chaos
and confusion is adaptable. For Tool's purposes, it reflects
much more than hard rock's standard entreaty to disobey
your parents and bite the heads off pigeons.
"I got to meet (Leary) before he died, which was pretty
amazing," says bass player Justin Chancellor, the Los
Angeles art-rock band's token Englishman. "He was
someone who, to his last day, was exploring every new
horizon he could think of. He was getting in a flotation tank
every day before he died (in 1996, aged 75). His whole idea
of exploration of the unknown is the only way to go, I think."
In the great mystery of life, the unknown is Tool's speciality.
The enigmatic quartet captured the twisted imaginations of
millions with the trippy metal sojourns of their first two
albums, Undertow and Aenima. As its title suggested, Salival
was an appetiser for studio album three, Lateralus, unveiled
this week after a preview blackout seldom seen in the
Napster era.
Despite a fanbase to rival the biggest rock acts, Tool choose
to edify the masses with precious few interviews. They don't
appear on their intriguing album covers or in their horrific
videos - both designed by guitarist Adam Jones - and a
scarcity of publicity photos has frustrated many a record
company promotions schedule.
In the clearly delineated game of modern rock, Tool play by
their own rules. Eyeing his interrogator suspiciously from
deep in a black vinyl lounge chair, their leather-trousered
frontman smugly agrees.
"Tool has kinda carved out a nice little niche for itself,"
Maynard James Keenan says softly, "having come out of
that generation of bands, alternative rock or heavy rock
bands like Soundgarden, Nirvana, Nine Inch Nails, Rage
Against the Machine.
"That whole wave of music set a new standard in terms of
independence and not necessarily listening to what radio or
the record company or the executives or MTV had to say
about what you're supposed to do with music.
"I think a lot of them really broke down the boundaries.
They really explored new areas. You don't have to have
verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus-chorus-goodbye.
You don't necessarily have to have a new record every 10
months. You can actually explore a little bit.
"Because we're that kind of band, where we really like to
explore different aspects, when they say, 'You're supposed
to do it this way', we just say, 'Why? Let's do it a different
way'."
Tool's media relations are a good illustration. In 1994,
promotion for Undertow revolved around the band's
dedication to the science of lachrymology: healing through
crying. Earnestly and eloquently, the lads would cite an
inspirational book written in 1949 by Ronald P. Vincent, a
Kansas crop-spraying contractor whose wife had died in a
snowplough accident. It was a story unencumbered by fact.
Another typical press stunt was perpetrated as recently as
February. A statement headlined "Man With Big Tool NOT
New Tool Big Man" put an end to imaginary rumors that
porn star Ron Jeremy had signed on as the band's new
manager. This at a time when any shred of news about their
long-delayed third album would have ensured much bigger
headlines.
The Lateralus interview schedule amounts to a single
afternoon during mixing sessions at Larrabee North studios
in LA's Universal City. As they await their allotted time with
Keenan, Chancellor, Jones and drummer Danny Carey, six
ill-informed journalists from around the globe are played a
handful of completed tracks under conditions Tom and
Nicole's divorce lawyers might find excessively secretive.
Before the event, at least two bogus track listings had been
issued through official channels. We're only slightly shocked
to discover the album's not entitled Systema Encephale, nor
will we be snapping our fingers to Malfeasance, Poopy The
Clown, Alcowhorlick, Mummery or Coalecius this
afternoon.
Asked to explain himself, Keenan initially pretends to have
nothing to do with the campaign of misinformation.
"Nothing to do with what?" he inquires, fluttering long
eyelashes before a gleeful smirk gives the game away. "We
all grew up watching Monty Python, so that'll answer part of
your question. And the other part is, we can be a little
vindictive at times.
"When we put out Salival, some guy went out and reserved
Salival.com and made shirts, started selling them on his
website. 'The box set's out! Get your shirts at Salival.com!'
Hopefully that same jackass has made that mistake at least
twice so far."
Fair enough. But Tool's penchant for mystery and deception
runs deeper than bootleg control. To pick a handful of
queries at random, what's the pig on forks doing on the
cover of Undertow where a picture of four guys scowling
should be? And why is that cow licking itself on the back?
Who's the scary claymation dude in the Prison Sex video?
What's with all the gizzards already? Why is Keenan wearing
drag in the Salival booklet? And what's the story with that
"ASTAROTH" pentagram inscription on the Aenima CD?
"I think the imagination is a very, very, very powerful thing,"
the singer offers evasively. "I think irrational behavior ends
up spurring some amazing results, and definitely
unreasonable behavior pushes our consciousness forward,
helps us evolve. The unknown tends to really get people's
gears turning. So hopefully we're a cog or catalyst in other
people's evolution."
"You wanna inspire people, hopefully," Chancellor adds,
"not indoctrinate them to some of your more specific
individual ideas. Like any good art, you wanna leave it open
for wide interpretation. It's fuel for a greater variety of
people then."
Hence the wealth of eccentric conclusions drawn by
imaginative Tool fans in cyberspace. Entertaining theories
about the band's gruesome artwork and typographical tricks
abound. Tool's intentions appear to range from the
intellectual (references to Jungian theory and clever Latin
misquotations) to the plain puerile. Read aloud the cryptic
legend "see you auntie" on the Aenima cover and see if your
mum doesn't send you to your room.
In fact, Tool's preference for the bizarre and macabre is
widely misunderstood, says Keenan. All those graphic
allusions to entrails and penetration (their tune Stinkfist came
in at No.2 on Triple J's 1996 listeners' poll) have somehow
led a portion of their audience to overlook their highly
developed sense of humor.
"Oh yeah, unbelievably," Keenan says with a chuckle.
"People think we're this dour, serious, dark band, and they
just missed it, because there's so much in our music which is
very tongue in cheek, but it comes from that very Monty
Pythonesque, Bill Hicks, early Steve Martin point of view
that most people I guess just don't get. Anybody who has a
sense of humor and listens enough picks it up."
"Or people hear the music," says Chancellor, "and pretty
much decide there can't be anything funny about that. It's like
a lot of reactions to the videos. 'Oh, it's so dark!'. But that's
a very surface view. There's a lot of real beauty in there, too
- as there's comedy in the very serious rock that we do."
As Tool's in-house art director, Jones ought to be the man to
shed the best light on such things. Instead, he just grins
amiably and shrugs. "I've always looked at ourselves as just
total geeks," he confesses. "Maybe that's why there's a lot of
mystery about our work, because there's absolutely no
mystery about us."
Despite their best efforts, facts about Tool exist. They
played their first gigs in 1991 in Los Angeles, where chief
instigator Jones was working as a make-up and
special-effects creator on blockbusters such as Predator 2,
Terminator 2 and Jurassic Park.
The singer who would soon be yodelling about suicide,
mutilation, vigilante homicide and the relative temperature of
the anal cavity was an army veteran from Akron, Ohio.
Keenan did his time at West Point and the US Military
Academy before heading to Hollywood in search of different
ammunition.
The pair met drummer Danny Carey and original bass player
Paul D'Amour through a mutual friend, Tom Morello, from
Rage Against the Machine, and Tool released their first EP,
Opiate, in 1992. Its most obvious reference point was the
alternative metal scene that dominated the annual
Lollapalooza roadshow, and it was there Tool established a
fierce reputation in the US summer of '93.
By that time, other influences were beginning to make
themselves clear. In a rare moment of revelation, Carey
confessed the band members' mutual admiration for "horrible
art-rock bands" of the 1970s. The involved arrangements
and obscure imagery favored by the likes of King Crimson,
Yes, Genesis and Pink Floyd have been increasingly evident
in Tool's work since, both in their sprawling song structures
and enigmatic visuals.
King Crimson/Peter Gabriel producer Dave Bottrill came on
board with Aenima in 1996, and remains on knob duty for
Lateralus.
"He's an alcoholic like us," Jones says, perhaps spying
another opportunity for the misinformation drive. "No, I'm
just kidding. The thing that sold us on Dave is that Dan and I
really liked that David Sylvian-Robert Fripp album that he
did (Damage), and the last King Crimson album (Thrak).
"We heard a lot of textures that we were going for that he
might be good at. Plus," he says, rolling his eyes, "the record
company was setting us up with every flavor-of-the-month
kinda producer."
"Yeah, all the big guys," Carey mutters, blanching at the
prospect of record-biz machinations.
The drummer knows what he's sighing about. The five-year
break between Aenima and Lateralus was partly due to
back-to-back legal tussles between Tool and their label,
Volcano, and with their former manager, former Jane's
Addiction minder Ted Gardner.
The temporary stalemate had one positive result in the shape
of A Perfect Circle, Keenan's hugely successful side-project
with Billy Howerdel, guitar technician for Tool and Smashing
Pumpkins. Naturally, the singer chooses to see that triumph
as another blow for the free world rather than just another
platinum album for his collection.
"(With) Perfect Circle, I was allowed by my fans to go out
and do something outside of the band that everyone relates
to," Keenan reflects. "Usually it's 'You're only allowed to be
in this thing, you're not allowed to do anything else. You are
Smashing Pumpkins, that's all you're allowed to be'; `You're
Pink Floyd, that's all you're allowed to be'.
"So one of the individuals in Tool went out and showed you,
you don't necessarily always have to be in Tool, either. We
can explore beyond that, and it's actually a whole separate
audience in and of itself with a huge crossover, and it has a
life of its own.
"So that's another thing that, in a way, Tool has brought you.
It actually has brought another band, another solution. Yes,
you can go outside of your little circle to explore, to take a
risk. It was for me, really, a huge risk. And all with positive
results."
"I don't think I ever worried that Tool would be over,"
Chancellor says on the subject. "But I was eager to get on
with it, so we just had to let him do his thing and patiently
craft away at what we were doing."
The 80-odd minutes of Lateralus don't exactly indicate
creative burnout on Keenan or anybody else's part. Some of
the singer's more violent and destructive concerns appear to
have been spent, but the band's intricate symphonic-metal
approach is in typically expansive form.
"We try to keep as rule-free as possible," says Carey.
"Some (songs) will start from a little melody that Maynard
will come in humming. It's mainly a jamming thing, though.
It's a pretty organic process, to see how far each little ditty
will take us and expound upon it as far as possible, keep a
tape rolling, then go back and find the jewels and develop
them, try to hook them together."
It's not a method for the attention-deficient. Tool's cover of
No Quarter on Salival was originally commissioned for a
Led Zeppelin tribute album, then rejected on the basis of its
11-minute-plus playing time. The first single from Lateralus,
Schism, clocks in at a relatively compact 6:47, but, needless
to say, there'll be no edited compromise for radio purposes.
"We let the songs dictate," Jones says. "They take on their
own life and we try to make them a complete idea unto
themselves, and sometimes it takes five minutes and
sometimes it takes 20."
"Maybe it's because we're trying to communicate on a little
deeper level than some bands do," Carey says with a shrug.
"Maybe it takes a little more time to get your point across or
to be articulate about things that are a little deeper.
"I feel like our music's gotten a little deeper, because we're
able to communicate with each other a little better now, so
maybe that's a by-product. We're getting longer songs now.
Maybe the next record will be one song and that'll be it."
He's kidding. Probably. But if any band see fit to revisit
Jethro Tull's Thick As A Brick formula anytime soon, Tool
are the leading candidates.
"It's more of a challenge now, because you really want to
see what else you can do," Keenan says. "Especially within
the Tool compound, it's been very much about pushing the
boundary and seeing how far you can take something. Every
time we write a song, we realise how much more there is to
explore. When you learn something about a particular
subject, you realise how much more there is to learn."
Dr Leary would no doubt have concurred.
Lateralus is out this week through Zomba.
Posted to t.d.n: 05/28/01 22:43:04