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Rating:
The tool doesn't squeak for shit. In fact, it is beautifully polished! It's black and dense as tar, yet shiny, functional, and a sight to behold. And tremendously heavy.
More than an hour and a half of concert. As soon as the lights go out, Tool kicks off right away, setting the place on fire (and the air conditioning immediately goes to hell).
They play new and old pieces, of course, but the concert is a seamless blend of psychedelic, hypnotic metal. The drumming is an industrial roar. Bass and drums enrich it properly. And the eerie voice of jmk... the eerie voice of Jmk.
At the start of the concert, Jmk dresses as Taylor and with a cowboy hat dictates the rhythm of the assembly line, shouting viciously into a distorted microphone. Then he takes off the hat, revealing his crest and a huge pair of black glasses. He briefly greets the audience. Politely asks if they could avoid using flash. And then, rightly so, turns his back to showcase his splendid tattoo.
The mantra begins. The mantra begins. The mantra begins. The mantra begins. The mantra begins. The mantra begins. The mantra begins. The mantra begins. The mantra begins... Jmk will remain with his back to the audience for the entire concert, except for a brief pause when the four of them rest and receive the deserved applause.
And for the final goodbyes, of course.
At the end of the concert, satisfaction is high. The shirt is once again sweaty. Actually, even more so.
You ask me about Luca? Well, Luca was a glimpse, but noticeably sweaty and convoluted (...). I leave with the strange sensation that Jmk might be a bit too full of himself, but I couldn't care less. After all, he is the enigmatic and charismatic leader of Tool, and that's just fine.
With my ears ringing, I bid you farewell and wish you goodnight.
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