Tool

at Avalon
by Paul Lee

With a hypnotic and sonic force, Tool had total control of the overstuffed masses at Avalon. The bodies smashed and swayed to the modern megagloom music that belonged to the freaks from L.A. They made their presence felt though every bit of my marrow and I’m sure the rest of the slavering Tool fans. These guys really seemed to have gotten the hype happening and this sold-out show was proof.

With two discs out, Opiate and Undertow, the sheer cathartic power that Tool blasted forth was shattering. I had a feeling back in early ’93 that after experiencing their dementia in musical form, that Tool were going to make an impression on the masses. Their two videos, “Sober” and “Prison Sex,” with their nihilistic animation also helped to put a gash in the minds of warped music lovers.

The show had no snazzy high-tech effects or even low-tech effects. It was basic, lights-only accompaniment to Tools thudding and growling. The lights dimmed and a bizarre monologue about pussies and pricks (no lie) babbled for a couple of minutes. Then, with no big to-do Tool were on stage in the basic tee-shirts and jeans (except for singer Maynard garbed only in some black shorts) and the power surged immediately. The floor started to become an ocean of bodies (I was playing it safe on the side-lines) as Tool cranked out their first number that eludes me due to the brain cells that were lost that evening.

My hair stood on end as Tool let the precise chaos dominate Avalon. Energy, energy, and more merciless auditory energy rained down upon us. The denizens of the carcass-sea whirled as the guys in Tool stood their ground. Adam Jones stood in his place letting the chords and notes fly while bassist Paul D’Amour whirled around and hammered his bass letting loose precise and thundering notes. Danny Carey sat at his kit doing damage to his drum heads with finesse. But, it was the long-hair mohawked maniac Maynard who was the spectacle on stage as he writhed and contorted his frail body like a massive cobra. He also arched his back and prowled around the stage like a restless cheetah while his forlorn tenor voice rang clear and enraged with its unique pitch. Maynard looks like some sort of vampire with his ivory skin and his veins swelling on the sides of his naked skull; maybe a bit like Nosferatu.

With passionately angered songs like “Sober,” “Bottom,” “Prison Sex” and “Four Degrees,” my facial skin was mashed against my skull. The chest cavity in my body reverberated like a vulture flapping around in a chapel. They also played a number of songs from the Opiate EP that still fought for space in the losing-cell battle within my cortex. As Maynard spat out oddities in-between songs (“Yeah, I danced here at Avalon before when I lived in Boston, but then no one would give me the time of day”) Tool raged on with a pace that wouldn’t rest.

It was a sweet irony that a dark and vicious band like Tool was spreading their madness in a place that was usually a haven for mindless, booty shaking lemmings. Those lemmings would cower and cringe at the might of Tool’s assault. And instead of those mindless animals dominating the meat magnet floor, there were rapid and rebellious beasts thrashing about. The electricity that Tool spread around needed no embellishments. They came to Avalon and crushed it beneath their misery-filled might. It was a show to be remembered even amongst the neurotically challenged.