doesn’t quite reach the heights of the band’s earlier work, it delivers some of the most explosive songwriting on the entire album.
Tool’s Fear Inoculum is the alt-metal rock band’s first release in thirteen years, as well as their fifth album overall. And yet, even for a release that most thought would never come out, perhaps the most surprising aspect is how little their sound has changed—which works both for and against them. Ultimately, this isn’t an album that will win over new fans, however, it will most likely be welcomed by old ones. First, the good. In many ways, the album took the best elements from each previous record and turned everything up a notch. Instrumentally, they’ve melded the meditative, trance-like sections that were introduced in 2003’s Lateralus with the aggressiveness of 1996’s Ænima. Nearly every song has evocative, guitar-driven soundscapes peppered with unconventional tribal percussion and downright bizarre sound effects, only to be broken up partway through by violent, machine-like instrumentation that sounds akin to some of the more traditional modern-metal bands. In particular, bassist Justin Chancellor and drummer Danny Carey have developed a rhythmical reciprocity that’s simply unparalleled in any contemporary group; whereas most rhythm sections follow the foundation set by the guitars or vocals, Chancellor and Carey are often at the helm of the album’s most poignant ideas. One of the most successful changes is vocalist Maynard James Keenan’s decision to forego his aggressive yet melodic approach, and instead adopt a delivery that almost sounds angelic. This, in turn, creates a brilliant contrast between the instrumentation and the vocal delivery that, simply put, should not work as well as it does. The second track, “Pneuma,” exemplifies this fantastically; even when the drumming is powerful and frenetic, Keenan’s vocals soar above the chaos in a way that few vocalists would attempt, let alone pull off. The one exception to Keenan’s softer approach is in the closing track, “7empest,” wherein he briefly returns to a more aggressive, albeit subdued, style that compliments the song’s ferocious climax. While the track
Yet the explosiveness of the songwriting—or lack thereof—is where some of the flaws begin to appear. Though there aren’t any songs that are outright terrible, it often feels as though they’re plagiarizing their earlier work. This isn’t to say the band didn’t take any chances with their songwriting. In fact, they took a massive gamble by increasing song length; while not having shied away from longer songs in their previous outings, every song on this album—aside from the interludes—exceeds ten minutes, with several reaching nearly fifteen. While longer run-times aren’t automatically a detriment, it certainly doesn’t help when almost every song has sections that feel blatantly tacked on. Admittedly, repeated listens will reveal nuances and details that one might grow to appreciate, but the band’s newfound overreliance on decent-to-subpar guitar solos and palm-muted chugging may prove tiring for most. One of the most baffling changes is the album’s atrocious synthesizers. Though seasoned fans will be quick to note that the band has previously incorporated some degree of electronic elements, the ones present on this album are oddly reminiscent of an early-80’s dystopian sci-fi B-movie. While this might not have been a problem two decades ago, it sounds decidedly out of place given the album’s otherwise stellar production. Case in point: “Descending” was already a contender for the weakest track on the album, and their decision to place synths atop the guitars in the middle of its most boring section certainly didn’t make the song any stronger. Interestingly, some of the most missed elements are Tool’s sarcastic tone and amusing interludes. For a group whose previous outings had been hilariously irreverent, South Park-esque humor sprinkled about, the interludes—as well as the album itself—are decidedly serious. While the change in tone isn’t expressly a detractor, it’s hard to justify the roughly eight minutes of annoying sound effects interspersed between songs. Perhaps the only attempt at humor is the title of the track “Chocolate Chip Trip,” which is just a four-minute drum solo and synth jamboree that the band has insisted isn’t an interlude. Though that determination is their prerogative, it doesn’t change the fact that the track is evidently just as useless as the interludes. For better or worse, Fear Inoculum is unmistakably Tool. There are enough changes to warrant the album’s release, but the largest ones don’t always pan out. While the album won’t generate much fanfare outside of the band’s core audience, longtime listeners should be able to at least appreciate the band’s uncompromising artistic integrity.
BY: DYLAN HEARN
50 Five Cent Sound