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10. Fear Inoculum - Tool (2019)

Progressive Rock

Since the release of their fourth studio album, 10,000 Days, way back in 2006, Tool has subjected their passionate fan base to an immense amount of suspenseful, bordering on cruel, anticipation surrounding the possibility of a follow-up. Pretty much unquestionably the most enigmatic band of the 21st century to date, the members of Tool spent these 13(!) years pursuing personal interests, never entirely discounting the possibility of an eventual fifth album, but dependably cautious not to divulge any tangible details pertaining to Tool-related projects in the works. As the years went on, rumors seemed only to gather steam, rather than dissipating in the album-less void forged of the band members’ continued mumness on the subject. In the years leading up to 2019, these rumors melded into whispers from the band itself hinting at a swelling collection of material apparently being pruned into presentability, though never quite making the cut. For fans, the frustration only grew with time. But sitting here in 2020, Fear Inoculum in hand, it is crystal clear that all the waiting was absolutely, undeniably worth it.

For a band that made a name for itself as hyper-detail-oriented masters of their craft, the extended sabbatical should have been understood by fans as natural and actually necessary in the long run, though of course these fans are humans, subject to fits of infantile impatience. The complexity of Tool’s prior projects, especially 10,000 Days and the preceding Lateralus, more than hinted at their predilection for existing head and shoulders beyond any perceived contemporaries in terms of musicianship, conceptual depth and execution. Their brand of “progressive rock” (though that feels an incredibly cheap summation of what they actually produce) is not one that can be rehashed and churned out every couple years with regularity. As evidenced by internet anecdotes from the creation of Fear Inoculum, it requires a searingly long gestation, rife with internal conflict, power struggles and fundamental differences of opinion with regard to what direction to take. As one of the impatient fans navigating the Tool-less void of the past decade, it struck me as increasingly unlikely that they would be able to produce a follow-up that would even rival their previous albums, let alone surpass them, especially under the ever growing scrutiny and anticipation this eventual project would garner.

When the title track was released as a promotional single in early August 2019, the Tool faithful held our collective breath, appropriately nervous at the prospect of having our hopes for another masterpiece dashed. But of course, we had nothing to worry about. With one sprawling, cryptic ten-minute epic, Tool effectively slew any doubts anyone had about any potential shoddiness that might mar a new album. 

While Fear Inoculum really is a significant departure from the catalog that preceded it, the most effective and most “Tool” attributes of previous albums are here. Structurally, it’s really “just” six songs, seven if you count “Chocolate Chip Trip” which is an impressive percussion solo from Danny Carey. Tracks 3, 5 and 10 are instrumental interludes that serve the same function as Tool’s instrumental tracks all the way back to Ænima, bridging the listener between the much lengthier tracks that comprise the meat of the album. Keenan’s lyrics have always been ambiguous and largely open to interpretation. That truth remains here, though there is also a degree of directness that rings clear, much as it did on 10,000 Days. The songs are his “allegorical elegies”, packed full of symbolism, cultural commentary and references to contemporary issues, all executed with enough clever misdirection and panache to never obviate the grandiosity of the tracks themselves. Most of the “primary” tracks on the album are practically standalone records unto themselves, with more than enough depth and substance to justify the incredible time it took for them to be fashioned. “Pneuma” conjures similar notions as “Jambi” the similarly placed second track on 10,000 Days, but manages to feel far less dense yet much larger in scale. Remarkably Fear Inoculum actually feels decidedly superior to previous albums from a production standpoint. It’s immaculately clean, while somehow still being every bit as heavy, though perhaps that weight is distributed more deliberately than ever before. Never in a million years would I have imagined going back and listening to 10,000 Days, long a favorite of mine, and feeling that it’s actually lacking substantially in places (though only when compared to Fear).

“Invincible” and “Descending” are each monumental, two towering tracks that add significantly to Tool’s canon. “Culling Voices” is a condemnation of social media culture, executed with an elegant level of symbolism encapsulated in the distillation of digital interactions as “disembodied voices”. And then there’s “7empest” (the 7 likely alluding to the biblical guarantee of revenge being inflicted sevenfold on those who betray others). The album culminates with this surprisingly untethered moment, immediately reminiscent of Ænima’s title track in it’s bristling fury. The specific targets of Keenan’s ire on the track are obvious to me, but I’ll forgo spoiling that here. Fear Inoculum stays with you long after the unsettling, ambient screeches of “Mockingbeat” fade away. You feel witness to something seismic and momentous, and the accomplishment of having waited so long for it only serves to amplify the amazement. 

*image; cover art for the album Fear Inoculum by Tool