Man, this one's gonna be a real task. I thought it would be tricky back in 2001 when I attempted my first review of an album by the behemoth prog-metal band Tool - it was my first venture into music that went to such a dark musical and lyrical place. Surprisingly, I found that Lateralus served as more than just a dark piece of curiosity for this listener - it was a sprawling and surprisingly uplifting work that emphasized forgiveness and brotherhood and turned away from empty nihilism as the instruments thrashed and crushed and meandered through the tricky time signatures to drive the powerful words home. While it had its disturbing parts, at least at first, it wound up being the most artistically admirable record that I listened to in all of 2001. They had won over a new fan who probably wouldn't have been able to get through an album like Aenima. So I was curious to see where they'd go next.

It's been five years - a long wait, but I guess Tool fans are starting to get used to it - and now their fourth full album, 10,000 Days, has been unleashed on the world. When it leaked early, I approached it with genuine excitement, not the nervous caution that I had when I first sampled Lateralus a little bit at a time. And as I made my way through the album, my thoughts went from "Hey, this is really good!" to, "Wait a minute, some of these songs sound very similar to Lateralus songs" to, "Wow, that was unexpected and touching" to "This segue is rather useless" to, "This is disgusting." It's quite a myriad of reactions, and while I figured further listens would help some of the initially unpalatable pieces to make more sense, I can only conclude in the end that this record presents both a heap of talent and a whole lot of frustrating instances of the band just messing around. When some degree of humor or wit is present in a band fooling around, I can usually handle that, but when they set things up to be so serious and gripping, and then blitz you with crude humor and insensitive rambling, it can feel like they've painted the ceiling of the freaking Pristine Chapel, and turned it upside-down so that they could defecate on it.

Remember how people complained that some of the tracks on Lateralus were too bloated? I never felt that this was a major problem. Maybe "Ticks & Leeches" had that quiet section that ran too long, and "Reflection" could have run a few seconds shorter, and yeah, we could have done without "Faaip De Oaid". But the remaining songs (and even sections of the less perfect songs I've mentioned) were generally powerful enough to overshadow this - there was at least an hour of quality music on that album. 10,000 Days has a similarly long running time, but at least three of its tracks run way longer than necessary without as much exciting to fill in the waiting periods, and three more tracks are ambient interludes, with one more only barely qualifying as a song due to how spaced-out everything is. That leaves seven tracks which I'd consider to fully qualify as "songs", and those might fill more time than the ten or twelve songs that comprise the entirety of most rock albums, but vast length is generally only a plus for me when there's enough variance within that length, and when I like the various things that are being done. So that's problem number one - too much simmer, not enough boil.

Problem two lies in the lyrics. Maynard James Keenan has proven himself to be a powerful, cutting songwriter, and that's used to great effect on this album's first four tracks, and also one near the end. He's not above using some harsh language to make a point, and that doesn't even bother me so much, but it can lend itself to an exercise or two in sick humor. It seems that the guy never met a taboo subject or bodily function he didn't like, and I'm no prude, but I don't exactly want to hear about somebody's acid trip that caused them to soil their bed sheets, either. With most bands, I'd just dismiss something like this as immaturity, but it seems inconsistent and even insensitive after performing a powerful, transcendental eulogy to one's own mother. When this guy's on, he's really on, but when he's off, you'll be reaching for the Pepto-Bismol.

Wasted time and unsavory lyrics are about all the complaints I can honestly make when it comes to this album. Maynard is a versatile vocalist, ranging from a ghostly, ethereal chant to a pointed scream that punctuates a good lyric without grating on the nerves. Adam Jones is a talented guitarist who can rip into dark chords, let out a scorching solo, and paint a more ambient piece with eerie, damp instrumental tones. Danny Carey is a monster drummer who can let loose with a barrage of primal percussion one minute, and then quietly build atmosphere with electronic drum effects or the more organic tabla in the next. And Justin Chancellor, who would be a notable rock bassist just for being noticeable, goes a few steps beyond that as he anchors these songs with an oily, viscous low end. The pieces come together beautifully when the band is focusing on doing so - they just have a tougher time being convincing when everything gets a bit more spaced out.

It's tough to know whether to recommend this album - the good is so strikingly good and the bad is so relentlessly infuriating that when they meet in the middle, it's a definite mixed bag but it seems unfair to have these elements cancel out as average. I'll have to mull over the cumulative score while I explore the album in detail - we'll start with a lot of the good stuff, though.

Vicarious
Don't look at me like I am a monster
Frown out your one face, but with the other
Stare like a junkie into the TV
Stare like a zombie...
It's kind of hard to hate this opening track if you were a fan of Lateralus. Unless you're the type to immediately accuse a band of plagiarizing from themselves when two songs sound similar, it probably shouldn't bother you that this song starts off with a riff in a complex time signature that sounds a whole lot like "Schism". The mechanics of the two songs are comparable, but if anything, Tool's got an even more instant hit on their hands here, which sounds weird when they're not generally known for creating "instantly catchy" sorts of songs, but it's not like it's a throw-away pop song, either. Maynard's first lyrics on the album are actually more direct than we're used to, talking about our culture's addiction to TV and how we get off on seeing other people get hurt or even killed. The rhythmic stutter builds until finally giving way to some scorching guitar work and thick drum fills, and Maynard's grey vocals take on more intensity as he growls that we all feel the need for this sick form of entertainment - "Why can't we just admit it?" It's a solid vocal performance and a stellar piece of work from the band all around - a seven-minute opening track, but it never feels long.

Jambi
Pray like a martyr dusk 'til dawn
Beg like a hooker all night long
Jested the devil with my song
And got what I wanted all along...
Hardly missing a bit, this some comes stumbling in with an even stranger rhythm and a fairly monochromatic, chugging guitar riff that hovers around the same note again and again... I've only heard small samples of Meshuggah's work, but that's one metal band that people have compared this track to. Danny Carey makes the interesting choice of using the tabla for much of this song, making the guitars the heavy element that anchors the rhythm rather than the drums - though those do come in later. The song can feel a bit thin as a result, especially since it takes a while to develop and really find its groove, but when it gets there, it's fairly powerful stuff. Maynard's lyrics are as cryptic as they come - I thought "The Patient" was a doozy, but it's got nothing on this little puzzle. Nevertheless, his vocals go from enigmatic to downright urgent as one point in the song finds him practically screaming, "Dim my eyes!" and begging, "Shine on forever, shine on benevolent sun", whatever that means. Adam Jones whips out a talkbox, through which he manages to tweak his guitar solo into something truly special (not that it wouldn't have been special already), and in general there's a good balance between heavy prog rock, tribal elements, and plain old weirdness here.

Wings for Marie (Part 1)
She never told a lie
Well, might have told a lie
But never lived one
Didn't have a life
But surely saved one...
You know what's truly a rarity in this world? Rock stars who revere one or both of their parents rather than spewing forth blame upon them for being the source of their screwed-up lives. For all of Maynard's ability to creep us out and play the unfazeable tough guy, he shows a disarming amount of sensitivity here, on a slow-burning ode to his dearly departed mother. This eulogy actually takes up the space of two tracks, the first being the shorter half at about six minutes long. The story is that she had a stroke which left her paralyzed for 27 years until her eventual death, which Maynard sees as a merciful release at this point. Not many lead singers of hard rock bands are going to utter the words, "What have I done to be a son to an angel?" and get away with it, but he's just talented in that way. The band plays it careful, opening the song with little other than a soft, barely audible tone that repeats, and the band's gentle rhythm of 6/8 being vaguely sketched out by a crooked series of guitar notes reaching up into the heavens. This eventually builds into a frothing, boiling pot of activity, with the guitars swirling around and the bass doing its nimble dance beneath them. All the while, Maynard is affirming what a light his mother was to the world - she suffered, but she apparently never stopped loving her son and she never turned her back on her faith. It's hard to fight the tears that well up when the song slows to a gentle halt as Maynard softly breathes, "I'm alright, now it's time for us to let you go."

10,000 Days (Wings Part 2)
But enough about the collective Judas
Who could deny you were the one who illuminated your little piece of the divine?
This little light of mine, a gift you passed on to me,
I'm gonna let it shine, to guide you safely on your way...
The second part of this touching ode is where the band reaches untold passionate heights, but I think it's also where the seams start to show a bit. With an eleven-minute running time, a similar sound and feel to Part 1, and an extremely long buildup before the climax finally sneaks up on you, this track can seem like the band bit off more than they could chew, and it's a shame, because the music really does get powerful once it becomes more audible (a good minute or two at either end feels like it's impossible to hear at the same volume where the meat of the song would be considered too loud), and the lyrics are surprisingly poignant event after having heard part one and knowing that these would merely be a continuation of the same theme. You see, Maynard's mother was apparently a fairly devout Christian, and while we've already heard his unbridled anger at the people who gave platitudes and petty answers to him in attempts to make sense of the suffering (see A Perfect Circle's "Judith"), what many of us probably didn't realize is that he still admired his mother's faith regardless, even if he himself didn't share her beliefs. That's a rather weighty matter, but I find it exciting to hear that despite all of the hypocrisy he's seen from others, she stands out as a good example, someone who walked her talk even when she didn't get back what most people would expected God to give her (i.e. healing). He still shows disdain for the congregation and their empty words, but he sends up this wish for his mother, that she may arrive at Heaven exactly as she imagined it being, boldly enter the gates with no reason to be ashamed, and shout "Give me my wings!" I've heard so many schmaltzy Christian songs about looking forward to being in Heaven, and even a few good ones, but I'll tell you what, this lyric written by someone who isn't even a Christian blows the vast majority of them away. It's too bad that the length of the song and nearly inaudible lyrics at the beginning hinder it from being as tight as it could be, but still, it's difficult not to have a strong emotional reaction to this one.

The Pot
Liar, lawyer - mirror, show me what's the difference?
Caned the rude and hung the guilty with the innocent...
Here's where I'm gonna start to get a little tougher on the band - up through track 4, I was impressed enough to think that I might be dealing with the album of the year. And I'm still excited about the musicianship on this relatively more straightforward, but still intense, rocker. It's got a good balance between knife-sharp guitar soling and low-end chug-a-chug, Maynard delivers another killer vocal performance (including an arresting acapella opening to the song that demands to know, "Who are you to point the finger?"), and the rhythm is tricky as usual but also very hooky due to the song's consistent tone of defiance. That's the good part. The bad part is that it's all about drugs and hypocrisy. That wouldn't be bad at, say, track two or three, but after such a sensitive magnum opus on the death of one's mother, it comes across as poorly timed and insensitive. Either Tool's criticizing a pot smoker for being an idiot, or they're playing the role of the pot smoker and criticizing those who would offer criticism, basically saying, "You're no better, so who are you to judge?" Not a bad premise for a song, but some insults and vulgarities go flying here. As clever as the line, "You p*ssed all over my black kettle" is (the pot's calling the kettle black, get it?), it just doesn't belong here. This sort of sets a precedent for a bad mood that's going to linger for the next few tracks, so be warned.

Lipan Conjuring
Tool's no stranger to seemingly pointless interludes - people complained about "Mantra" on the last album, but I was actually OK with that one as a brief ambient piece. Here, they totally take us out of the musical mood they've created and give us a minute of Native American chanting or something like that. It just doesn't flow with the tracks around it at all.

Lost Keys (Blame Hoffmann)
And here's the most ridiculous part of the indulgence - they follow the interlude with another interlude. The wavering hum of an electric guitar and a slow, sludgy bass give this track a strung-out, detached feel, and after about a minute into it we become privy to a conversation between a doctor and a nurse, about a catatonic patient in their emergency room who is completely unresponsive. The doctor tries to reassure that patient (who likely had a bad drug trip - the title refers to Albert Hoffmann, who first synthesized LSD in the 40's), but the patient just seems to sit there and stare blankly.

Rosetta Stoned
And after calming me down with some orange slices and some fetal spooning, E.T. revealed to me his singular purpose. He said, "You are the chosen one. The one who will deliver the message. A message of hope for those who choose to hear it, and a warning for those who do not." Me! The chosen one. They chose me! And I didn't even graduate from f*ckin' high school!
Finally the patient speaks, as the music suddenly shifts from comatose and creepy to fast and frenetic. This is more or less the 10,000 Days version of a burst-of-anger track in the vein of "Ticks & Leeches". Musically, it kicks @ss, with hyper-fast, monotone snarling of the lyrics as the drums and guitars beat out the bare-bones verses, a few sections where the guitars just rip into it, and some truly sinister shouts and screams from Maynard. The problem is that, well, it's all about a bad drug trip, and Maynard seems to think this is a source of humor. I'll admit that the lyrics to the first section of the song (which you have to read - no way you'll make everything out as it slips by so fast on the CD) are fairly amusing, as Maynard describes an alien encounter with an "X-file being, looking like some kinda blue-green Jackie Chan", realizing that the alien wants to tell him something, "But I forgot my pen", and being amused that extraterrestrial life would choose him of all people as their ambassador (this might be a dig at crazy obsessed fans who make him out to be some sort of a prophet or whatever). The un-funny part is that he makes repeated mentions of this encounter causing him to soil himself. The whole song eventually becomes a relentless, pounding chorus about how he's sick and feeling really out of it, and "Godd*mn, sh*t the bed." That's just not a line I want to hear on any album from any vocalist, and while it's typical of Maynard's humor (they've even got a hidden track on their live album which is all about his, um, male organ), I think I liked this band better on Lateralus when they weren't trying to be funny. Again, placed before the death of mommy dearest, maybe tolerable, but after it, it's a matter of plain old poor taste. And this goes on for ELEVEN FREAKING MINUTES. The joke was old after about three, guys.

Intension
Spark becomes a flame
Flame becomes a fire
Forge a blade to slay the stranger
Take whatever we desire...
Ready for some more bad artistic decisions? This track offers a barely audible, backmasked intro that apparently serves as a positive public service announcement when played in reverse, and then settles into a grey, murky skeleton of a song that recites some interesting mantras but ultimately never goes anywhere. This ill-informed groove isn't even enjoyable for one minute, let alone seven and a half, and I'm left with nothing memorable to share (the words even fade into the background, though they look fairly meaningful on paper) when it finally sputters to a stop.

Right in Two
Father blessed them all with reason
And this is what they choose
Monkey, killing monkey, killing monkey
Over pieces of the ground...
Thank God, Tool saved one of their best tracks for last. This album really needed it, after the disastrous turn it took a while back. This one feels like a slightly more vibrant version of "The Patient" at first, as its odd rhythmic pattern is picked out by the guitar - 6/8, 6/8, 6/8, 2/4. It quickly develops into its own unique things, with the return of Danny Carey's tabla and some eerie lyrics from Maynard about angels standing amused as "monkeys" figure out how to create blunt implements and murder each other. This is almost like an evolutionary take on "Schism", at I can't help but wonder if it's a commentary on the religious warring in the Middle East, which is essentially about people killing each other over small strips of "scared" land. These are interesting comments which directly reference the "father", likely because while the band doesn't subscribe to Christianity, Judaism, or Islam, this is a common God figure in all three and it seems contradictory to him that they'd all be so brutal with one another. It's definitely one of the album's most thought-provoking moments, and as the tabla solo in the middle leads to a sped-up section with some fairly quick and heroic guitar playing and relentless slamming drums, it's easy to see that this song's epic nine-minute length is justified, and it's perfectly placed as the album's final song. If It were up to me, I'd have placed some of the more irreverent songs near the beginning, dropped the interludes altogether, and allowed the two-parter about Maynard's mom to appear right before this track, for a really strong emotional punch at the end.

Viginti Tres
Did I say last song? End of the album? Well, I was sort of right. Those with common sense can turn it off at the end of track ten; those like me who have to scrutinize every second of an album will sit through this torturous, vacuous five minutes of aural landfill even though it's beyond redeemable. I was excited that they were closing with a track whose Latin name translated to "twenty-three", which is my favorite number. I figured it'd be a powerful song, or instrumental at least, about that number's mystical properties or whatever (I'm not a numerologist, but math geek songs can be fun). Instead, it's just a series of electrostatic gusts leaking out of your speakers, with samples of the static sound directly lifted from "Faaip De Oaid" (how sad, they had to sample another of their tracks of white noise just to complete this one!) and a downright scary, slowed-down and perhaps backmasked voice croaking in the middle of it. You know, I'm sure that it turns into something recognizable or at least amusing if you convert it to WAV, flip it around backwards, and play it back at a speed which constantly accelerates at a logarithmic rate. Either that or the waveform bears a strong resemblance to Maynard's reproductive organs. The truth is that I just don't feel like putting all that work into the spectral analysis, so I'll just take the shortcut and call this one a TOTAL LOAD OF COMPLETE AND UTTER CRAP. I buy CD's to listen to music, how about you?

It's almost disturbing how this band can be so good one minute and then be totally wasting your time the next minute (OK, maybe ten minutes later, you have to wait for the track to change). But then, "disturbing" has always been a response that Tool likes to elicit in their listeners, and I guess it's fine to confront our fears and prejudices in the form of recorded music, but if I've given something several listens and it's still making me feel physically ill, then I have to say enough is enough. Maybe some Tool fans think it's genius, and that's fine, but I enjoy hearing the band play good music and I enjoy dissecting some of the meatier, more mature lyrics, and that's about it. I still get to do a fair amount of that on this album, and it has been mostly enjoyable to dig into its nooks and crannies for the sake of a review, so I'll still give this one a mild recommendation - but only for those stalwart audiophiles with the patience of saints, or those who don't mind buying a CD where they'll be tempted to skip at least a third of the tracks. I can't say that I'll buy it, but I could see some of you folks having a justifiable purchase here.

When the next Tool album rolls around circa 2011, I'll just hope that they don't skimp on the actual songs - or that if there are a small number of very lengthy songs, that the lengthiness is justified.

ALBUM WORTH:
Vicarious $2
Jambi $1.50
Wings for Marie (Part 1) $1.50
10,000 Days (Wings Part 2) $1.50
The Pot $1
Lipan Conjuring $0
Lost Keys (Blame Hoffmann) -$.50
Rosetta Stoned -$.50
Intension -$.50
Right in Two $1.50
Viginti Tres -$1
TOTAL: $6.50

Band Members:
Maynard James Keenan: Lead vocals
Adam Jones: Guitar, sitar
Danny Carey: Drums, tabla, percussion
Justin Chancellor: Bass

Website: http://www.toolband.com

Recommended: Yes