Tool
Ænima

FUNDAMENTAL PREMISE: What do you think? I am perfectly aware that there are already other reviews of this epic on this very site, but there are two issues here: the first is that I have always, since I was an unwitting infant who knew nothing, done whatever the hell I wanted; the second is that it is never too late to thoroughly discuss beauty, whatever it may be. And then, bear with me, I turned eighteen a few days ago, and know that I am a very angry eighteen-year-old, with the world and the human species. This review is a portal I want to build for myself to scream this almost uncontrollable rage of mine to anyone who will have enough patience to listen to and embrace it.

I hope you can seriously reflect on this story of mine. If you don't, it will mean that I have not done my job well, and I will take full responsibility for it. But give me a minimum of trust, so that I can work on it and return an emotion to you. Or at least, this is my aim.

REVIEW: And, all of a sudden, the lights turned off violently, leaving a cold atmosphere with no marked direction. Where will these little puppets go to crash? What will their next wrong move be? How willing are they to look within themselves at the origin of this decay that led them to this delirium? And even if by incredible and unpredictable miracle they succeed, do they still have time to figure something out?

No, it's not the ending of a dramatic film, and if you haven't realized it either, then the situation is even worse. What I have just described is the world we live in, the one we have decided to live in. Because I, on this point, admit no misunderstanding: human beings have consciously and happily decided to build a world where injustice and irrationality reign. The disgust and anger I feel in front of all this have reached such high levels that they keep me up at night; a feeling of despair and profound sadness in front of the fact that there are people in this World who endure terrible sufferings and pains, which, as far as I see, seem to afflict only me. Or maybe not only. I mean, almost. But, in fact, there is another human being who, over the course of his life, has drawn the same evident and painful conclusions as mine, coming to curse this atrocious reality. I feel I have immediately connected with him, for the alignment of visions and even the attitude towards this alienating and destructive society. His name is Maynard James Keenan, and this album is his powerful and violent declaration of intent, unequivocal and glaring.

In 1996, this 32-year-old man is the singer and lyricist of the most mysterious, dark, and elusive band in the World music scene: the TOOL. It's useless to attempt classifying their music since their sound is so unique and complex that it doesn’t admit any type of categorization. Besides, they seem to agree with such a consideration. Just know that their music is as complex as it is exciting, cerebral as it is emotional, fierce as it is disillusioned. Impossible to completely decipher them, practically absurd not to be ecstatic and amazed by the musical and moral greatness brought by this band.

After releasing an EP full of violence and a debut album that is absolutely resentful and fierce, four years into the new millennium, the TOOL take flight definitively with a record destined to remain in the annals. Giving (probably unintentionally) a very important energetic push for the conception and composition of this album is a dear friend of the band: Bill Hicks; an American comedian (like the band, which hails from Los Angeles), unfortunately already deceased very young at the time of the album's release, who, also evidently resentful for the moral misery afflicting the human race, used to propose very edgy sketches, which explicitly struck at the customs and attitudes of American society, highlighting all its contradictions and its disgusting discriminatory behaviors.

Combining their sparkling madness (a trait of all geniuses) and their varied culture, the four from Los Angeles print an incredibly profound work, where darkness, claustrophobia, and rage dominate. The reflection that emerges is very strong and extremely evocative, leaving listeners astonished, feeling now attacked, now insecure, now disgusted by the human misery presented in the lyrics, and finally left with an imposing load of powerful, unforgettable, and indelible feelings, becoming a guide through the gratuitous and unwanted pains and wickedness of life on Earth.

The only two "straightforward" tracks in this work are "Stinkfist" and "Hooker With A Penis", which somehow represent the only episodes that could perhaps have been included without any problem in the previous album, even though they still represent a clear evolution. They are the only two songs that aren't particularly dark and gloomy, and although the first is extremely elusive about its message, the second represents a heavy outburst from Maynard (and the rest of the band through the music, especially that extraordinary guitarist Adam Jones) against a fan - or purported fan - who, sometime earlier, had made a rather absurd and unlikely accusation against the band, namely, that the band had sold out to the public, becoming, therefore, more commercial with their first album Undertow, thus "denying" the path inaugurated with their debut EP Opiate... ... ... pure madness, stupidity at exorbitant levels, frightening and appalling ignorance. If there is a band that never, ever granted anything to their audience, it’s the TOOL. And in response, the band demolishes this subject, dedicating an entire song full of sarcasm and denigration. I wonder if this person ever had the courage to put their nose tip outside the door. I’ll remain with the doubt.

The rest of the album, however, is an authentic journey through the infernos of the human species' soul, full of thorny branches and fog colored black. The two most enigmatic, profound, and disturbing episodes, in this sense, are "H." and "Forty Six & 2", two thematically opposite songs, practically two tracks that hold hands and make their way together, just like two people lost in a dark cave who, aware of their dramatic fate, embrace tightly and transmit strength and courage to one another. The first is a strenuous admission of one's pathetic moral condition, filled with echoes of the past and allusions to betrayal and temptation. Probably inspired by the birth of Maynard's first child (Devo H. Keenan, ed.), it could be the narrative of the close bond that unites the two. The guitar build-up of the song is damnably sublime: as calm and reflective at the beginning as it is explosive and out of its mind at the end. The general atmosphere that pervades the song is dark, obscure, gloomy, almost like discovering a chest containing our soul; the chest, opening slowly, reveals its content, and thus the song explodes into a furious and powerful finale. It is a continuous succession of strong and intense sensations, which do nothing but remind us that instead of flesh, we are souls, spirits, alive and real. It's not little, trust me.

The second of the two songs, however, is a triumph of genius and vision. Although it remains to this day an absolutely and damnably cryptic track, one can still try to reconstruct its fundamental underlying message, namely personal evolution and self-discovery, to grow as people and as living species, so we can finally unite as one and have full respect for one another, as it should absolutely be. The song, musically, is indescribable: humanity has yet to find adequate words to describe its power and impressive emotional impact. The guitar build-up is scream-worthy, and Maynard's gives you chills. It sounds like a demon from some dimension to awaken the consciences of the asleep. More than a demon: humans, if anything, are the demons, inflicting harm and pain on others daily. How can one live in such a mean and sick world? Answer: one shouldn’t live there. We must change it, improve it. Probably, this song is mostly about this.

One of the absolute peaks of the album is undoubtedly "Pushit", a megagalactic track introduced by an extraordinary guitar riff that immediately sneaks into the listener's heart, leading to an intense and passionate experience, which likely narrates a toxic and humiliating relationship, of which, however (a striking fact), only one of the two parties is aware of; a concept that will be revisited in that total and magnificent masterpiece that will be "Schism," contained in the subsequent record to this.

The last two tracks are the ones that, perhaps, most encapsulate, in their entirety, the mood that runs throughout the album. The semi-title track, "Ænema", is a concentrated dose of fury and devastation, leaving nothing behind. The guitar riffs are simply imposing, colossal, and supreme, played with a very interesting and challenging technique to master in the way Adam Jones manages. The song evolves, somersaults over itself, falls apart, and recomposes, but the ensemble that eventually emerges is epochal and harmonious; a moment of notable musical genius, denoting a deep love for music and one's compositional vein. In the lyrics, Maynard explicitly clings against the city of Los Angeles, criticizing its superficiality and focus on totally irrelevant elements, if not even harmful, for the general and overall well-being, sparing no harsh words for all its inhabitants (clearly calling them addicts) and not hesitating to wish for the entire city to sink into the ocean. Pretty much what I sometimes think about my city too (trust me, I detest it more than you can imagine. It's a bit like the Los Angeles of Italy, in a sense).

With "Third Eye", instead, we soar to stellar and intergalactic levels, rarely touched in one's insignificant existence. It is a 13-minute psychedelic trip, inaugurated by Bill Hicks' speech about the influence of drugs (especially acids) on an artist's creative flow (he himself made massive use of them during his youth). Impossible to describe the music: it's so unique and unprecedented that it cannot be compared to anything normally heard. The truth is, in some cases, one can only listen to a song and absorb its energy and emotion, which remain indescribable and implanted in the mind and heart of those who lived. Do you want to travel to never come back? Listen to this track's version in Salival, a live album released about 4 years after this record; you’ll never come back to Earth.

Ah, and one more thing: I can only take immense pleasure in noticing how one of the most disgusting and questionable human beings that have ever existed, namely Ron L. Hubbard, is mentioned and totally destroyed by the good Maynard in this record. First, in "Eulogy," although it has never been officially confirmed, and then explicitly in "Ænema," where he sends him, with extreme calm, to hell. Absolutely legitimate.

At this point, one is left staring into the void, possibly with the lights turned off around, with the feeling of having just perceived, for 77 minutes, true and unforgettable emotions amid a total void, represented by our society. This record is one of the last examples of committed music, committed to shedding a bit of light on the thousand shadows of our existence, indicating a path in life. This album is not a moment; it's a whole life, and it is precisely this that elevates it to a colossal, unrepeatable, and magical work. It is a work that sends a strong and clear message, a spiritual journey, a last warning before Armageddon, from which there will be no return. Perhaps we are already there, indeed we surely are, given that by now an infinity of human beings has paid too high a price for man's wickedness and moral poverty. Those who do not choose to embrace what this record communicates will remain in eternal oblivion, living a life devoid of colors and spirituality. But what kind of life is this? Perhaps it is precisely to them that the most important meaning of this record is addressed: wake up now, or sink forever. Hard, once again, to prove Maynard wrong.