metal

Inoculated from Accepting Less

C. Jefferson Thom — Sun, 29 Oct 2023 16:22:34 +0000

Inoculated from Accepting Less C. Jefferson Thom October 29, 2023 - 12:22

Topics

Music Review

Tags

metal

Tool @ The Tacoma Dome

Seattle, WA

It must be a trip to be Tool. To have arrived at their level of musicianship and experience, to still be inspired with a vision, and to have the massive budget to realize that vision along with the arena-size audience eager to receive it… it must be a real trip.

Tool provides a very valid reason for seeing them play live. Aside from hearing their tight and intricate sounds and feeling their intense energy in person, there is their sweeping showmanship. Over the span of over two decades I have seen Tool play live four times and they have always offered a memorable stage show. This most recent set at the Tacoma Dome was no exception. Backed by a looming wall of segmented, high-def screens and haloed by an arch of versatile lighting and laser gear, the band plays in front of an ever-changing monolith of morphing, psychedelic art. The ensuing visuals are intimidating in scope and content. Woe to the previously uninitiated patron high on hallucinogens… you’re gonna have an intense trip.

The visuals, like much of their lyrical content, feel rooted in the darker sides of existence and the mysticism of ancient civilizations, with hints of sacred geometry, all sprinkled with an introspective dose of psilocybin. Tool has always maintained a certain profundity in their work. Their lyrics explore the weight of humanity, the rage over its many shortcomings, and an underlying sadness that we fail to somehow be better. The progression of their albums has been a journey from a righteous anger that culminates with Ænima and then releases with Lateralus into an uncovering of the original pain which lies below. That search for the source of our suffering and the hope that it can be overcome continues with the following two albums. It's always been interesting to me to meet fellow Tool fans and learn which is their favorite album. More than with other bands, it seems like a bit of a Rorschach test as to where each individual is in their personal process. Fear Inoculum follows this trajectory, moving towards the healing, but breaks with a previous tradition. Up until August of 2019 each new Tool album was strikingly different from its predecessor, whereas 10,000 Days and Fear Inoculum share the most similarities. However, though more subtle, the differences are significant, with Fear Inoculum being more of a hypnotic meditation that relies on its instrumentals more than any previous album. I know little of the personal lives of the band members, but going off the progression of their albums alone one might infer that they have fought their way through a long and dark tunnel and emerged healthier on the other side. Fear Inoculum, as it would seem the name suggests, is a recommended practice for processing the darkness unveiled in previous albums. It is the suggested meditation for moving forward, the prescribed medication for our many illnesses, the inoculation against the fear holding us back. Perhaps Tool has always been a presence in the frightening shadows before us, that encouraging voice calling out from the abyss, beckoning us to follow the bread crumbs back home… or at least somewhere better.

Musically they are as immaculate live as they are on their albums. The sustained discipline of their intricate rhythms, their established themes which bend, progress into something new, and then return… their overall approach to songwriting bares more resemblance to classical compositions than what one generally expects of a rock band. Seeing all that combined with their visual show and the energy of several thousand fellow fans is a uniquely powerful and spiritual experience. Tool never rips-off their audience. Yet another bonus of this present tour is a strict rule against cell phones being used for photos or videos during Tool's set. It had been a while since I had seen an arena show without a sea of up-raised cell screens floating in the lower periphery of my field of vision and it provided yet another reason to be nostalgic about the '90s… Following a tradition of intentionally selecting their opening bands, the Tacoma audience was presented with Steel Beans, a one-man-band on drums, guitar, and vocals that is truly unique. Imagine Dick van Dyke's character from Mary Poppins on a little bit of meth and with a lot more vulgarity. Whatever you may think of it, it's interesting.

Concerts are expensive, the fees charged on top of the actual ticket price are comically criminal, and as yet another aging rock fan it does get tougher with time to push myself to find parking, be herded through security, and accept all the ordeals that come with going to an arena concert. That being said, if you have the opportunity to see Tool live I would highly recommend taking it. This is not a joyless, cash-grab reunion tour. This is not a remember their greatest hits marathon. This is four time-tested, serious musicians who have never stopped exploring their craft and they have new creations to share with you. They're waiting, the syringe is dripping, and they want to inoculate you against a world filled with mediocrity.

Add new comment

ANNIVERSARIES: Motörhead Released Ace of Spades 35 Years Ago

Steve Holtje — Wed, 30 Dec 2015 05:00:11 +0000

ANNIVERSARIES: Motörhead Released Ace of Spades 35 Years Ago Steve Holtje December 30, 2015 - 00:00

Topics

Music Review

Tags

metal

[Lemmy passed away yesterday. RIP, you badass!] As we watch what may soon be the end of Motörhead, with a fine new album just out but iconic leader Lemmy's failing health forcing him from the stage on multiple nights, let's also look back at a milestone in the group's long career.

Bassist/singer Lemmy Kilmister started Motörhead in 1975 after getting kicked out of prog-rockers Hawkwind for being jailed on a drug charge in Canada during a tour. The band's early days were not marked by success. After being signed by United Artists, Motörhead's first shot at recording an album was rejected, and the label then blocked the group's attempted release of a single on Stiff. In '77 -- the lineup having completely turned over aside from its frontman -- they were ready to throw in the towel and even scheduled a farewell concert, but then Chiswick Records gave them money to record a single and by working quickly (and with a little more support from Chiswick) they turned that session into their debut album. After that things got better, but the band had yet to break through as of 1980.

On August 4, 1980, producer Vic Maile took Motörhead into Jackson's Studios in Rickmansworth to start work on what would be the band's fourth album. Maile was a veteran behind-the-scenes presence on the English rock scene: engineer (and sometimes producer) for the Kinks (Arthur), Hawkwind (including the classic concert album Space Ritual), Dr. Feelgood, Eddie & the Hot Rods, Nick Lowe (Jesus of Cool AKA Pure Pop for Now People), and many more. By September 15, they had finished one of the greatest rock 'n' roll albums ever made. (The press has categorized Motörhead, not unjustly, as a metal band, but Lemmy, born in 1945, has always called what Motörhead does simply "rock 'n' roll." The band's gleeful political incorrectness, powerhouse sound, rapid tempos, and brevity earned it fellow traveler status in many eyes.)

Ace of Spades appeared quickly, the title track being released as a single on October 27 and the LP coming out on November 8. Things began looking up for the band immediately, with an incongruous but profile-raising appearance on Top of the Pops later that month.

Ace of Spades was a smash hit in England, reaching No. 5 on the LP chart (the band's best showing ever with a studio album -- in 1981, the live album No Sleep 'til Hammersmith -- also produced by Maile -- hit No. 4) and became their first LP also issued by an American label, while its title track made it to No. 15 on the singles chart. The latter remains Motörhead's best showing on the singles chart under its own name, though it's worth noting that the three-song EP St. Valentine's Massacre shared with Girlschool, which found them combining forces as Headgirl on a smokin' cover of the 1959 Johnny Kidd & the Pirates song "Please Don't Touch," surprisingly made it all the way to No. 5 on the singles chart; it included Motörhead's cover of the Girlschool song "Emergency."

Both these songs are bonus tracks on the most recent CD version of Ace of Spades, as is the flipside of "Ace of Spades," "Dirty Love." (Girlschool's cover of Motörhead's "Bomber," the third track on that EP, isn't included.) Though "Dirty Love" in particular is another killer track, the original LP's dozen songs remain the main attraction. Motörhead's hard, fast, dirty sound was a reaction against what Lemmy called the "geezer plodding" of the heavy metal of the time. "Ace of Spades" leads off the album, using the metaphors of gambling and the title card's symbolism of death to explain the band's willingness to live on the edge. The Wild West metaphor "Shoot You in the Back," the "Born to Lose" answer song "Live to Win," and the scorching "The Hammer" are in similar veins. "Love Me Like a Reptile," "Fast and Loose," "Fire, Fire," and "Jailbait" all depict the band's fast and loose attitude towards women on the road, while "The Chase Is Better Than the Catch" is more philosophical about it. The cynical breakup song "Bite the Bullet" is the only reference to a relationship longer than a night; more love's reserved for music, on "Dance," and Motörhead's partners in crime, on "(We Are) The Road Crew."

It almost doesn't matter what Lemmy's growling and rasping about, because it's the music's brutal relentlessness that's the main point. This is a classic power trio, and its nearly non-stop touring had made Lemmy, guitarist Fast Eddie Clarke, and drummer Phil "Philthy Animal" Taylor a tight, no-mercy unit. This is the classic Motörhead lineup, which would be completely changed aside from Lemmy by 1983; it doesn't get any better than Ace of Spades and No Sleep 'til Hammersmith.

Metadata Panic in the Age of Surveillance

Alex Smith — Wed, 21 Oct 2015 15:37:44 +0000

Metadata Panic in the Age of Surveillance Alex Smith October 21, 2015 - 11:37

Topics

Music Review

Tags

metal

After about 32 years of being a slavishly devout fan of Killing Joke, the job of reviewing their new studio album with any semblance of balanced objectivity is a tougher task than you might imagine. Those who have embraced the music, mythos and accompanying sensibility of Killing Joke tend to do so with a bug-eyed fervor that borders liberally on myopic zealotry. In short order, no other band matters nearly as much.

That was me for many a year. Sure, I listened to loads of different stuff, but no one touched Killing Joke. Not even close. Even their less salubrious moments -- say, their first divisively populist single, “Me or You?” or Jaz Coleman's beleaguered ersatz-prog opus, Outside The Gate -- still seemed a thousand times more intriguing than any contributions from the rest of the rock rabble, despite any inherent flaws or deviations from the script. Simply put, there is no one like Killing Joke, and when they are at their best, it can be the most inimitably volcanic combination of musical elements imaginable.

I’ve also been fortunate enough, over the years, to become somewhat privy to (portions of) the inner circle of the notoriously difficult band. Beyond interviewing Killing Joke a few times as a rock journalist, I became friends with bassist Paul Raven for a few years (until his untimely death in 2007). It was Raven who also orchestrated my sprawling interview with then-estranged drummer Paul Ferguson in 2004. I’d like to think that said interview -- wherein the founding member broke his silence about his split from the proceedings -- helped ease the path, in some small way, towards his return to the fold (an event which was ultimately brought about by the reconvening of all original members at Raven’s funeral).

Big Paul did, in fact, resume his role in the band shortly afterwards, mounting a full scale tour with the original line-up (with Martin “Youth” Glover back on bass detail) and releasing a rough-hewn collection of their re-recorded standards dubbed Duende: The Spanish Sessions.

With the line-up complete, the band launched into a prolific album-tour-album-tour routine, first unleashing the explosive Absolute Dissent in 2010, followed by the comparatively dour MMXII in --wait for it -- 2012.

Okay, enough purple-prose-laden preamble….what about the new one?

Killing Joke's fifteenth album of new studio material is called Pylon, and it is perceived by the band as the final portion in a triptych that began with Absolute Dissent. Read any of the reviews currently making the rounds, and the usual citations are laboriously invoked (“covered by Metallica,” “worked with Dave Grohl,” etc.) Invariably due to their dogged bloody-mindedness, Killing Joke have repeatedly eluded the greater success they have otherwise inarguably earned. As a result, journalists are quick to explain them to the layperson by dusting off a few tired anecdotes and assigning them any number of misleading tags (foremost among them being “metal,” “gothic” and “industrial.”) While, yes, select elements of these (and other) sub-genres can be cherry-picked from within their music, Killing Joke have refreshingly never been accurately pigeon-holed, nor remained stylistically static. Their sound has been, at points, burly, stealthy and spartan as it has elegiacal, expansive and funky.

With this in mind, Pylon comes as close to a “something for everyone” record as the band is ever likely to record. This formidable collection of tunes finds the Joke frequently switching gears, from full-throttled paroxysms to stately, poignantly melodic anthems. Don’t get me wrong --- it sure as Hell ain’t Taylor Swift, nor is it suitable for twerking or inclusion in your local sports bar’s jukebox, but as a document of a single band, it handily demonstrates the breadth of their abilities.

Thematically speaking, however, Pylon mines some familiar veins. As has seemingly always been the case, being in Killing Joke means never having to say “Don’t Worry, Be Happy,” as Pylon comes steeped in a brand of dystopian paranoia that has permeated pretty much all of the band’s work. But while previous albums cast Killing Joke in the role of a post-punk Nostradamus (would the plural of that be Nostradami?), perpetually warning of the immediately impending collapse of civilization, Pylon mostly addresses horrors already at hand. Forget worrying about the coming armageddon …. IT HAS ALREADY ARRIVED!

Less concerned -- this time -- about Mayan doom prophecy and its accompanying natural upheaval (although let’s not rule that out), the primary beefs rife throughout Pylon pertain to the Orwellian surveillance state, acute technophobia, the sinister, Machiavelian machinations of “the West” over “the servile brain,” and, of course, a requisite, palpable contempt for America’s corrupted capitalism. Like I said, “Bitch Better Have My Money” THIS AIN’T.

This all said, rarely has a scathing indictment of a callous society’s corrosive infrastructure sounded so life-affirming. Vocalist Jaz Coleman’s signature exhortations belie the band’s collective advanced years, trumped only by the inimitably thunderous engine that is Big Paul Ferguson. As ever, guitarist Geordie Walker’s guitar defines the band’s unique sound (at his “fire from Heaven” best, in my opinion, on “Star Spangled”), but it really is an intense, and intimate sounding group effort.

It’s not all doom and gloom, though. While most of the album's fifteen tracks (depending on which edition you acquire) arrive with all the gentleness of a weighty iron chalice of molten black coffee, Killing Joke exercise their comparatively -- dare I say it -- “poppier” side on songs like “Euphoria” and the downright optimistic “Big Buzz,” finding Geordie giving sway to the fabled bell-like tones of his hallowed, hollow-bodied Gibson ES-295 (a.k.a. “the Golden Harp”) over his equally lauded penchant for syncopated, metallic chugging. In a tradition of tracks like “The Raven King,” “In Cythera,” and, of course, “Love Like Blood” -- the latter being the inarguable high-water mark of the band’s accessibility -- these songs unveil Killing Joke’s stubborn regard for humanist compassion in a world otherwise wrought with radiation and moral squalor.

At the end of it all (if you'll pardon the suitably apocalyptic turn of phrase), to the uninitiated layperson weaned on whatever anaemic piffle passes for "proper rock" in 2015, the powerful expanse of Pylon might go down like something of a weighty horse pill, what with the average song therein rarely clocking out before the five minute mark. But for the afore-cited bug-eyed zealots, Pylon is bracing evidence of the band’s still-viable and still-bloodthirsty life force. With the possible exception of Killing Joke’s contemporaries in SWANS (themselves no strangers to intimidating intensity and myriad fractures in membership), it's hard to name another band of their particular generation that has side-stepped the pitfalls of nostalgic redundancy and is still capable of making music of this ferocious vitality. Pylon is out on October 23. GO GET IT!

Incidentally, those not entirely versed in the storied doings of Killing Joke (like, yes, immersing themselves in the occult, recording in the great pyramids, fucking off to Iceland, and indeed being covered by Metallica and playing with Dave Grohl) should avail themselves to Shaun Pettigrew’s long-in-the-making documentary on the band, The Death and Resurrection Show.

This article first appeared on Flaming Pablum.