“Berlin, you don’t seem certain,” grimaces Maynard Keenan from the far end of the stage at the Wuhlheide amphitheater while some 15,000-plus middle-aged, upper-class Germans in mostly black t-shirts courteously clap. Having played in Germany throughout his career, including a breathtaking Berlin Arena gig not two years ago, he should know better. The locals are very much transfixed, they just express their emotions differently than the average “Westerner”. However, Keenan is having none of it.
“One more try, Berlin!” he shouts, and the crowd convulses in screams and fist-pumping. Keenan curtly nods in approval, but it’s inconclusive whether he smiles. Skulking behind his bandmates, this June, he’s also proudly festive, with a tall rainbow mohawk, rainbow-colored Puscifer mascot on his black t-shirt, and immense black crayon circles around his eyes, black lipstick extending into a Joker-like sneer all the way to his cheekbones. Beside him, drummer Danny Carey grins widely in flayed man (i.e., muscle anatomy) overalls.
This slight buffoonery is really for the best as spirits are lifted and the atmosphere lightens up. Tool, one of the biggest rock acts around, are (in)famous for their self-seriousness, reticence, and unadulterated focus on the intricate mechanics of their epic live performances. Seeing Tool live usually means opening oneself up to their esoteric lyrics and Keenan’s shamanistic delivery and marveling at the enormous monolithic screen bombarding you with multiplying sequences of closeup bod(il)y horror animations.
Not this time, though, or at least not to the extent we’re used to. After 30 years in the business of superstardom, Keenan, Carey, bassist Justin Chancellor, and guitarist Adam Jones have shared all there is to share in terms of ideological convictions (liberal-leaning democrats), artistic doctrine (cautiously optimistic spiritual grotesquery), and approach to live shows (immersive out-of-body experiences). Their notoriously hardcore fandom is game for whatever sentiment the band throws their way, and mercifully, the warm evening of 8 June in Berlin is relaxed, playful even. For this year’s European tour, centered heavily around 2019’s Fear Inoculum, we get banter, more jokes than usual, plenty of onstage “vibing”, and a general feeling of a “gig” rather than a “spectacle”. I mean this as a compliment.
Keenan’s embracing of comedy, which is more pronounced in his other bands, such as Puscifer, doesn’t make him any less controlling a presence here. He’s quick to get his two desired points across. “We’re gonna take a little trip tonight, you know the drill,” he coos at the nodding, anxious fans, setting the stage for another journey of self-reflection that a Tool performance traditionally represents. Many light joints even before the show commences.
The second point appears even more pertinent to the singer: his flagrant hatred of the usage of cell phones at concerts. As is customary for Tool, warnings against camera use are taped everywhere around the expansive amphitheater, including the lawn, which is adorned with makeshift chairs (there are no standing areas). “We respectfully request that you please watch and listen to the show, not your phone. You will be ejected… if you violate this simple request,” reads the vigorously assertive and curiously passive-aggressive note. Keenan accompanies the warning with the lengthiest speech of the night, cementing his irritation. “Don’t hold your phones up, it’s uh-noh-yang,” he sniggers in Californian, briskly waving his finger in no particular direction. The lyrics to “The Pot” come to mind; no matter that it’s unintentional, this is comedic gold.
Speaking of 10,000 Days, the performance kicks-off with “Jambi“, an oscillating, instantly gripping single from the band’s fourth album. At 8:30 pm, it is still broad daylight in the north of Europe, an underwhelming setup for a rock spectacle, but the sensations these four maestros evoke are breathtaking from start to finish. Of the many extraordinary aspects of Tool’s work, it has always been the sheer skill of the Californian quartet that struck the chord most impressively. Their polyrhythmic layering, which escalates into a wall of sound through the interplay of the two guitars and drums, coupled with Keenan’s arcane lyrics and tenor seesawing between angelic and infernal, plunges the crowd into a meditative trance. That it takes two hours and 25 minutes to perform 12 tracks only enhances the experience.
Sure enough, a Tool show isn’t complete without the illustriously morbid visuals vaguely accompanying the text and assaulting the senses throughout. Concocted by the band’s long-term collaborators, Mark Jacobson, Breckinridge Haggerty, and Scott Wilson, the videos, followed by old school lasers kicking in during “Pneuma“, pepper the meditations with the bodily reality of impermanence and anguish. The backdrop enters with the extreme closeup of the human eye during “Fear Inoculum“, meticulously tracing the retinal blood vessels and exploding back through the cornea, then lurches into an alloy of Tool’s videos and older animations, all coalescing around the idea of complete bodily awareness. Extreme in its focus on the flesh is, in itself, an aberration, a shell to be cleansed from the threat of discord and decay; the endlessly multiplying imagery of a mutable physique about to crack is a uniquely weighty affair.
Thankfully, despite their trademark modus operandi of meditative transcendence, Tool remains an acutely self-aware bunch, happy to laugh at themselves (and us) with a satirical twang. “Rosetta Stoned“, an 11-minute jamming, a stream-of-consciousness parody of a tripping dimwit being “chosen” by the aliens to deliver an “important message” to humankind, is so on the nose hilarious that the screen gets hijacked by a bunch of aliens curiously staring at the band. One of their rare outright funny tracks, “Rosetta Stoned” is a solid tactical interjection to the solemnity of tacks off Lateralus and Fear Inoculum, the other being the raw physicality of their early material.
“Intolerance” and “Flood“, two 30-year-old gems from Tool’s debut, Undertow, snap the crowd out of their musing with their untextured, unfiltered hostility. Listening to “Intolerance” decades on, one asks themselves what kind of a rock beast Tool would have become had Keenan, a preternaturally sensitive writer, fully lyrically let himself loose instead of ruminating in his own shadow. Over the years, the excellent “Aenima“, “Ticks and Leeches“, “Vicarious“, and “The Pot” (sadly, none of these made the cut for tonight’s show) gave us a glimpse of Keenan as a vengeful god out for blood, but their latest, 2019’s Fear Inoculum, cemented metaphysical introspection as the band’s causa sui. Despite having already done a world tour to promote the album, tonight, nearly half the tracks in rotation stem from this “new” release.
The only two tracks from 2000’s Lateralus, “Schism” and “The Grudge“, bring the show to a boiling point right before the encore. Keenan’s demonic scream toward the show’s end is matched by inarticulate roars from the overwhelmingly male audience, many of whom collapse in their chairs to prepare for the 35-minute goodbye. Like the rest of the concert, the outro is another protracted, simmering display of musical prowess and, well, a trip.
Carey elicits a few chuckles after appearing onstage alone, his anatomy suit lighting up like a rainbow in places chakras ought to be located. His gong solo and “Chocolate Chip Trip” drum sampling, shot from above to display his colossal drum kit, are insane works of a grandmaster. Carey is still more limber, not to mention stronger, than most people in their 30s; watching him mix and match his singular time signatures is worth the admission price. “Flood” is the last throwback to the early days before “Invincible“, a 13-minute behemoth about insecurity and, allegedly, making new music in your 50s, bringing another catharsis to the wide-eyed audience. “Warrior struggling to remain relevant,” growls Keenan behind Carey’s, Jones’, and Chancellor’s frantic crescendos.
Turns out not even the greats are spared from self-doubt. After 30 years of superstardom, watching a sea of glimmering faces overcrowding sold-out arenas worldwide should give a definitive answer to Tool’s “relevance” conundrum. If the unhinged singalong to the legendary closer “Stinkfist” is any indication, this trip of introspection guided by adulation is a success.
That being said, Keenan and his cohorts have never been the ones to settle for the easy or the palpable, always amplifying their dialectical slalom between the mystical and the material. This myriad of feelings and questions – which may be a catharsis but is definitely a plain good rocking time – is what we keep coming back for.
Setlist:
Jambi
Fear Inoculum
Rosetta Stones
Pneuma
Intolerance
Descending
Schism
The Grudge
Chocolate Chip Trip
Flood
Invincible
Stinkfist