Ænima is Tool’s second studio album.
Founded in Los Angeles in 1990, Tool’s music had a progressive edge from the very beginning. The band’s debut EP, Opiate (1992), and the follow-up debut album, Undertow (1993), were still relatively easy to associate with other alt-rock/metal bands of the same era, such as Soundgarden and Helmet. However, such a comparison would no longer do justice to Tool’s third album, Ænima. That’s how far into new realms the album takes the band’s music.
Released in 1993, Undertow was a huge success and immediately catapulted Tool into the ranks of rock’s biggest names. The band capitalized on its popularity and toured extensively for a couple of years, playing numerous high-profile shows and even landing the headlining slot at the massive Lollapalooza festival.
In September 1995, the band finally began working on their next album, but before this project—which lasted more than half a year—was completed, the band had a new bassist. Tool’s original bassist, Paul D’Amour, had begun to grow dissatisfied with the band’s musical style. This, combined with D’Amour’s desire to play guitar in addition to bass, led him to leave the band, which was on a rapid rise to fame. They hired Englishman Justin Chancellor, who had previously played in a band called Peach, to replace him. With Chancellor on board, Tool’s “classic lineup” was complete: Maynard James Keenan (vocals), Adam Jones (guitars), and Danny Carey (drums), who continue to play together to this day.
The producer chosen for the new album was David Bottrill, who had previously worked with King Crimson, David Sylvian, and Peter Gabriel, among others. This, too, speaks to the mindset of Tool’s collective creative minds. Instead of choosing a producer with a proven track record in metal, they turned their attention more toward prog and art rock. Whereas progressive rock was still largely a dirty word in the mid-1990s, and most bands that had achieved (or were striving for) mainstream popularity tried to downplay the genre’s influence on their music, Tool never shied away from their influences. Refreshingly, the band proactively highlighted prog in numerous interviews and cited, among others, Pink Floyd, Yes, and King Crimson as their influences.
By Ænimalla at the latest, Tool can easily be classified as progressive metal. Whereas bands from this offshoot of progressive rock—which emerged in the 1980s—often focused on fast guitar and keyboard solos, Tool’s dark and imposing music was built more on tight, riff-driven ensemble playing in complex time signatures, rich textures, and playful dynamics of volume. Tool’s lyrics were imbued with a dark existentialism that was not unfamiliar to prog, but what was more surprising was the band’s rather vulgar sense of humor.
The strange name Æniman perfectly captures its schizophrenic nature. The Latin ligature (a combination of A and E) in the title combines “anima”—which, in Carl Jung’s psychological theories, refers to the latent feminine archetype in the male subconscious—with the English word “enema,” which means… well an enema. In other words, the album title Ænima literally combines Jungian psychology with the emptying of the rectum of feces. On exactly the same level, across the entire album, Tool swings from lofty “intellectual” themes to schoolboy-style piss-and-poop humor.
Read also: Review: Tool – Lateralus (2001)
Ænima also introduces Tool’s new trademark: shorter interludes that punctuate the album, offering the listener a brief respite between the heavy, intense main tracks. Going forward, all of Tool’s albums would feature such interludes, which often sharply divided fan opinion. Ænima contains six of these interludes, ranging in length from half a minute for “Useful Idiot” to four minutes for “(-) Ions.” Stylistically, these interludes could be collectively described as humorous avant-garde. Or simply as fooling around, depending on one’s taste. Coincidence or not, King Crimson’s album THRAK (produced by David Bottrill), released a year earlier, was also punctuated by numerous short interludes…
The album’s first two actual tracks, “Stinkfist” and “Eulogy,” are a good example of Ænima’s duality. With its rough-and-tumble riffs, “Stinkfist” makes it crystal clear right in its title (“stinky fist”) what it’s all about: fisting. And if the title alone doesn’t drive the point home, the refrain “Relax, turn around, and take my hand”—repeated throughout the chorus—should make it clear that this is a song about fists, and apparently one going into “backdoor”. Not exactly a typical or lofty subject for a so-called progressive band, but of course there’s also a deeper side to the lyrics. Maynard’s lyrics, in fact, seem to refer not only to rough sex but also to a kind of sensory overstimulation caused by the modern world and the resulting need to constantly seek out ever more extreme experiences. On the other hand, Keenan has also described the song as a metaphor for evolution… Evolution is touched upon in a few other songs on the album as well, but that interpretation does sound a bit of a stretch…
Well, whatever the lyrics may mean, the musically heavy and rumbling “Stinkfist” is an extremely powerful track. Stylistically, given its relative straightforwardness, it would have also fit well on “Undertow.” In other words, it still represents the “old” Tool.
“Stinkfist” was the album’s first single, and it was propelled to hit status by a music video featuring dark, nightmarish visions that received heavy airplay on MTV.
“Eulogy,” the track following “Stinkfist” that runs over eight minutes, is a significantly more complex song, featuring numerous distinct sections typical of prog rock. Lyrically, the song feels like an angry and, in many ways, contradictory eulogy for Scientology founder L. Ron Hubbard. In a track that showcases Jones’s versatile play with guitar effects, Keenan gets to showcase his trademark growl toward the end.
Following the “Useful Idiot” interlude, the cryptically titled “H.” is a song about the temptation between good and evil. “H.” kicks off with extremely distorted guitar riffs and then transforms into a melancholic, subdued meditation carried by hypnotically pounding drums and interspersed with Jones’s rather simple guitar riffs. Keenan sings most of the song with restrained melody, but during the track’s rhythmically intense crescendos, his vocals erupt into long, violent roars. In its most minimalist sections, “H.” clearly bears the influence of 1980s King Crimson. A truly great song.
After “H.,” we hear the album’s first interlude. The 38-second track “Useful Idiot” consists of the ever-intensifying sound of a vinyl record needle skipping. From this rather pointless vinyl skittering, the album transitions to its musically most technical track, “Forty Six & 2.”
The earlier tracks on the album had been composed back when D’Amour was still with the band, and “Forty Six & 2,” a more recent track, was the first to truly showcase the direction the band was heading in the future.
The cryptic title of the lyrics refers to the 46 chromosomes in the human body and a potential genetic mutation that would activate two additional chromosomes and, according to Drunvalo Melchizedek’s esoteric theories, lead to the attainment of a new level of consciousness. When we also consider the lyrics’ references to Jung’s (him again!) shadow theory—namely, that spiritual growth requires recognizing and accepting the dark sides of one’s own mind in order for such growth to be possible—we can say that we’re swimming in some pretty deep waters.
Musically, too, the band dives into deep waters, as “Forty Six & 2” is clearly Tool’s most complex composition to date. The song, which builds tension masterfully, begins with a softly played, low bass riff, joined first by Jones’s clockwork-like ticking guitar riff and, a little later, by Carey’s softly grooving, tribal-style drum beat.
The atmosphere is hypnotic and full of anticipation. Keenan’s quiet, almost whispering vocals in the first verse only add to the mystical atmosphere. As the chorus approaches, the atmosphere begins to thicken and the tension builds. Keenan’s vocals become more intense and the riffs increasingly distorted. In the chorus, the song reaches its first climax, and during the next verse, Carey’s drumming begins to grow more complex until the atmosphere levels off briefly, as if gathering strength for a new surge—which occurs during the final minutes when Carey puts on a true drumming masterclass, unleashing a veritable drum storm, playing polyrhythmically in two different time signatures simultaneously, which creates an exciting rhythmic illusion where the beat seems to move in two different directions. Running parallel to this is Jones’s understated and minimalist guitar work, which draws its power from the clever use of various effects rather than the sheer number of notes.
”The driving, rhythmic beat of “Forty Six & 2” is also impressive to hear as Carey shifts from 7/8 to 9/8 time signature every other bar. A truly tight ending to a truly tight song. “Forty Six & 2” is the best song on Ænima and, overall, one of the highlights of Tool’s entire discography.
After the challenging “Forty Six & 2,” it’s time for another interlude. “Message To Harry Manback” is apparently based on a real answering machine message in which an Italian gentleman delivers a message—littered with truly vicious insults and outright death threats—to Keenan’s former roommate. The message is accompanied by Bottrill’s wistfully quiet piano playing in the background, along with the sounds of seagulls. “Message To Harry Manback” is, in its own way, a hypnotic listening experience, but then again… I’m not sure I’d really miss it…
The next song quickly wipes those Italian ramblings from your mind anyway. “Hooker A With A Penis” is a truly ferocious track and represents the album’s most straightforward offering, stylistically harking back to Tool’s early days. This rough, growling, fast-paced track takes a swipe at the fan who accused Tool of selling out (so the song’s title doesn’t refer to any trans issues, but perhaps to Keenan himself). Maynard’s snarling lyrics take the aggression toward the foolish fan to truly amusing extremes, and the music rumbling intensely in the background underscores, for its part, that nothing has been sold out here—they’re doing their own thing exactly the way they want, without caring what others think. The end result is like an adrenaline rush in the form of music—and something you might call “punk-prog.”
All you know about me is what I’ve sold ya, dumb fuck
I sold out long before you’d ever even heard my name
I sold my soul to make a record, dipshit
And then you bought one
All you read and wear or see and hear on TV
Is a product begging for your fat-ass, dirty dollar
Shut up and buy, buy, buy my new record
And buy, buy, buy, send more money
Fuck you, buddy
Fuck you, buddy
Fuck you, buddy
Fuck you, buddy
After the diss track aimed at idiotic fans, we hear an interlude aptly titled “Intermission.” It offers just under a minute of darkly playful carnival music that would fit right in on a Mr. Bungle album.
The transition from carnival music to the extremely heavy, rumbling riff of “Jimmy” is surprising and, at the same time, somehow really effective. “Jimmy” (the name seems to refer to the lyricist James himself) is musically fairly straightforward, as it largely follows standard song structures. Rhythmically, too, “Jimmy” seems straightforward for Tool’s music, but is the “eleven” (11) a reference not only to the age at which the vocalist’s mother fell ill, but also to the alternation between the 7/8 and 4/4 time signatures featured in the song—which perhaps creates the illusion of an 11/8 time signature? That would be a rather typical example of Tool’s rhythmic playfulness. Be that as it may, “Jimmy’s” riffs roll along magnificently, and Keenan’s vocal transitions from more delicate passages to more ferocious ones are a joy to hear.
After “Jimmy,” it’s time for the most interesting of the album’s short interludes. “Die Eier Von Satan,” or “Satan’s Eggs,” is a two-minute industrial nightmare based on a monotonously rolling drum track in 9/8 time, a strange, stubbornly repetitive noise that sounds like a factory whistle, and, above all, a malevolent-sounding, chanting voice. Marko Fox’s demonic, German-spouting voice sounds as if it were torn from some Nazi-style rally, but in reality, the lyrics aren’t about anything more dangerous than a cookie recipe. Ha ha, how funny. To be honest, I find “Die Eier Von Satania” quite captivating to listen to, even though the joke itself gets old pretty quickly after a few listens.
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- Review: John Greaves & Peter Blegvad: Kew. Rhone. (1977)
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From the food recipes, we move on to the second-longest track on the album. Clocking in at nearly 10 minutes, “Pushit” is a captivating, almost ritualistic journey that builds magnificently from ethereal atmospheres at the beginning to heavy, explosive moments that successfully cultivate complex polyrhythms and fierce dissonance. “Pushit” is an excellent example of how Tool knows how to build tension by making use of dynamic shifts while simultaneously rejecting conventional song structures. The song’s lyrics tell of a toxic codependent relationship with another person and the process of breaking free from it. Keenan thus once again addresses personal growth, but—as is typical of Ænima—at times in a rather vulgar manner. Midway through, as the story’s conflict seems to escalate to its peak, the repeated phrase “Push it on me” in the lyrics actually sounds more like “shit on me.”
Following the extreme drama of “Pushit,” we hear “Cesaro Summability,” which is just over a minute long. The song’s title refers to the mathematical concept of “Cesàro summability,” but how the instrumental music—which consists almost entirely of electronically processed, distressing cries of a baby—relates to the subject remains a mystery, at least to me.
Every now and then, you come across songs that feel much longer than they actually are. The album’s title track “Ænema” (though the spelling isn’t quite the same as on the album because… well, because it’s Tool…) is one such example. “Ænema” lasts only six minutes, but feels considerably more epic. Part of that grandeur may be due to the apocalyptic theme of the lyrics. With its darkly humorous lyrics, “Ænema” is actually a truly exhilarating piece of work. Keenan’s lyrics criticize Los Angeles’s materialistic emptiness with biting sarcasm. In Tool’s view, that place—if any—is in desperate need of a wake-up call and a true cleansing. In the lyrics, Keenan practically prays for a tsunami and other natural disasters that would sweep all of California—along with its superficial people—into the depths of the ocean. Inspiration for the theme was drawn from a sketch by stand-up comedian Bill Hicks (1961–1994), who died too young. Musically, this heavy-sounding track also crashes over the listener like a tsunami, and the composition progresses in a natural, organic way, building tension almost continuously. It’s an absolutely stunning track and, for me, ”along with “Forty Six & 2,” one of the album’s absolute highlights.
Here in this hopeless fucking hole we call L.A.
The only way to fix it is to flush it all away
Any fucking time, any fucking day
Learn to swim, I’ll see you down in Arizona baySome say a comet will fall from the sky
Followed by meteor showers and tidal waves
Followed by fault lines that cannot sit still
Followed by millions of dumbfounded dipshitsAnd some say the end is near
Some say we’ll see Armageddon soon
I certainly hope we will
I sure could use a vacation from this
Stupid shit, silly shit, stupid shit
Following “Ænema” comes the album’s final interlude. At exactly four minutes long, “(-) Ions” isn’t really an interlude in the traditional sense, but on the other hand, its experimental and static soundscape is hard to call a proper song either. The music of “(-) Ions” consists of the rumble caused by spinning a metal disc, spiced up with vague electronic hums bouncing from one channel to the other. If it were shorter, “(-) Ions” would have worked perfectly as the intro to the album’s final track, “Third Eye,” but as it is, it’s hopelessly too long and perhaps the weakest moment on the entire album.
As “Hooker A With A Penis” already demonstrated, Tool wasn’t shy about provoking its fans. The album’s closing track, the nearly 14-minute psychedelic journey “Third Eye,” has also been interpreted as a provocation aimed at a certain segment of the band’s fan base. Tool had many rowdy and disruptive metal fans whom the band seemed to regard as blockheads who were fans for the wrong reasons. Apparently, Tool would start many of their concerts with this psychedelic trip just to annoy—or at least rein in—this segment of the audience. At its most ethereal, “Third Eye” even brings to mind the hazy sounds of Gong from the ’70s, but as a counterbalance, it also features some very heavy riffing. The song’s theme of opening the mind and pushing one’s own boundaries could very well belong on a Gong album, but whereas Daevid Allen would approach the subject with gentle humor, mind expansion in the hands of Keenan and Tool is a rather violent experience. This is particularly crystallized at the very end in the furiously shouted mantra “Prying open my third eye.” “Third Eye” is also inspired by Hick’s stand-up comedy and features, among other things, this memorable sample from one of his performances:
”See, I think drugs have done some good things for us, I really do
And if you don’t believe drugs have done good things for us, do me a favor
Go home tonight and take all your albums, all your tapes, and all your CDs and burn ’em”
Cause you know what? The musicians who’ve made all that great music
That’s enhanced your lives throughout the years?”
Real fucking high on drugs”
Ænima received a very positive reception from critics upon its release, and the album sold extremely well. In the U.S., sales figures exceeded three million, so it’s easy to name Tool, even at this early stage of their career, as the most successful prog band formed since the 1970s. Tool can indeed be considered the second pillar of prog metal alongside Dream Theater. Tool became a major influence on many young bands in the genre, especially those who weren’t drawn to Dream Theater’s style, which is based on fast, intricate solos.
At 79 minutes, Ænima is quite an epic behemoth. Perhaps a bit too epic. Especially since the album can’t really be praised as a particularly coherent whole due to its odd interludes. Tool went on to make more sophisticated and complex music and more cohesive albums, but on the other hand, there’s something truly captivating about Ænima’s anarchic, multi-directional, tempo-shifting “couldn’t-care-less” attitude and the album’s constant juxtaposition of “intelligent” and “stupid,” which makes Ænima a highly unique album. The music on Ænima also possesses a certain energetic spontaneity that, to some extent, was lost from Tool’s music later on as it became increasingly calculated and polished. Ænima is a strong contender for Tool’s best album.
Best tracks: ”Stinkfist”, ”Eulogy”, ”H”, “Forty Six & 2”, ”Jimmy”, “Ænema”
Author: JANNE YLIRUUSI
Read also: Review: Tool – Fear Inoculum (2019)
Tracks
- Stinkfist (5:11)
- Eulogy (8:28)
- H. (6:07)
- Useful Idiot (0:38)
- Forty Six & 2 (6:04)
- Message to Harry Manback (1:53)
- Hooker with a Penis (4:33)
- Intermission (0:56)
- Jimmy (5:24)
- Die Eier Von Satan (2:17)
- Pushit (9:55)
- Cesaro Summability (1:26)
- Ænema (6:39)
- (-) Ions (4:00)
- Third Eye (13:47)
Tool:
Maynard James Keenan: vocals Adam Jones: guitars Justin Chancellor: bass guitars Danny Carey: drums & percussion, samples
Guests:
Bill Hicks: sampled spoken voice (15) Marko Fox: vocals (10) Eban Schletter: organ (8) Chris Pittman: synthesizer (15) David Bottrill: keyboards (6)
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