Published on Aug 4, 1998
I still remember being blown away the first time I ever heard
the band Tool. A former colleague of mine (Anthony, whom I’ve
written about before on these pages) played part of their demo for
me, and I was immediately hooked. The freshness of the music, the
pure aggression – I loved it!
Their 1992 debut effort, an EP named
Opiate, gave the world their first taste of Maynard James
Keenan and crew – and from then on, there was no looking back. This
seven-song wonder shows off more power in less than 30 minutes than
some bands try to cram onto double albums. Filled with irreverance,
anger and questioning God, Tool pulls no punches, and leaves you
wanting to be smacked around for another 12 rounds.
If the collage on the CD artwork scares you, then you might as
well trade this disc in for Celine Dion, ’cause Tool isn’t out to
satisfy the masses. From the declarations of hatred in the
funk-laced “Hush” and the live powerhouse “Jerk-Off” to the more
introspective exclamation point against God on the title track
(“Jesus Christ, why don’t you come save my life now?”), Keenan,
guitarist Adam Jones, bassist Paul D’Amour and drummer Danny Carey
capture the angst and the drama succinctly, all the while making
songs that grab your eardrums and don’t let go.
The only stumbling block is the cut “Part Of Me,” which doesn’t
seem to ever find its direction, no matter how hard it tries.
However, this one minor drawback is quickly eased by other numbers
such as “Cold And Ugly,” one of two live songs on
Opiate. (With the power of these live performances, one
wonders why Tool didn’t include more on this disc – for that
matter, why they haven’t put out a live album, recent problems with
the former Zoo Entertainment notwithstanding.)
The surprise on this album is the hidden seventh track, a song
which should get the religious right’s undies in a knot real quick.
Lighten up, gang, this song is a definite joke! How else do you
explain lyrics like: “I had a friend once, he took some acid / Now
he thinks he’s a fire engine”? So Keenan chants “Satan” in the
background – so what? Something tells me that both sides got a
laugh out of this one.
The only real qualm about
Opiate? Easy: it’s too damned short. If these seven songs
wet your appetite now, you have two other albums to choose from.
Back when I first heard this, I had to wait two years for
Undertow to come out to cure my hunger for more Tool.
Opiate is undoubtedly the first stop you should make on your
road to discovering all things Tool – it helps put into focus the
remainder of their work. Six years after its release, this is still
a disc I enjoy thoroughly and repeatedly.