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from RIP magazine, September 1992 (Fresh Blood)
[I was one of the first national journalists to get excited about Tool, and they excited me for many years to come. Tool, in my opinion, was one of the most brilliant bands of the 1990s. My acquaintance with them, however, was purely professional — to be honest, Maynard and Adam intimidated the hell out of me. They were so smart and so serious that I (a pretty smart cookie, but generally rather frivolous) was kind of scared of them! I preferred reviewing their shows and albums to actually chatting to them, although I did that too on a few occasions. I love the phrase I used to describe Opiate: "a glowing red lump of coal in a bin of man-made diamonds." That's exactly what it — and Tool — was, back in 1992.]
"Tool is a verb, not a noun," singer Maynard James Keenan says in a softly insistent voice that would rival that of a Mafia Don's. "This Tool is, anyway."
Maynard would not get an argument from anyone who's seen the quartet live. The music surges forth with a naked aggression made possible by its bare-bones approach, while Keenan hypnotically sways to and fro, his barely contained anger giving him the appearance of a skinny apeman who's been kept behind bars for too long. This outfit is not for the weak of heart or the wishy-washy masses. Or maybe it is — Tool just might wake them up.
Maynard's intention, when he arrived in Los Angeles, was to find work renovating pet-store interiors, not to front a band. He met guitarist Adam Jones through a mutual friend and, after incessant prodding, Adam convinced Maynard to jam. Danny Carey was a drummer around town who had played with such diverse outfits as Pigmy Love Circus and Carole King. He, in turn, brought in bassist Paul D'Amour. Paul actually came to L.A. because of the film industry. "I wasn't playing music for a long time, and I was kind of giving up on it," he explains. "I was getting stupid. It was like I was so fucking angry all the time." Tool's music suited him perfectly.
"We just got into it because it's kind of therapeutic, and we had nothing better to do," Maynard says of the band's formation. "We're not really here for the business end of it." Surprisingly (or perhaps not), Tool wound up with a record deal - this without all the silly tricks and prefab molding more industry-minded bands attempt.
Tool's debut for Zoo Records is Opiate, a six-song EP. It stands out like a glowing red lump of coal in a bin of man-made diamonds — raw, real and honest. A couple of the tracks were recorded live during a party the band held last New Year's Eve. The festivities got a little out of hand, Paul explains: "There were a bunch of gang-bangers there, spray-painting their tags on the walls, and then, like 150 or 200 people who couldn't get in were standing outside on the street."
"And it's not necessary the nicest element of Hollywood coming to your home when you say there's free beer," Maynard adds.
"It was so packed that people just kept bumping into us, and we were like, 'Oh fuck! This is being recorded!'" recalls Paul. "I figured that the whole thing was a shambles halfway through and started slamming back. It actually started sounding better, so it was cool."
This isn't necessarily the kind of crowd Tool wants to inspire, however. Although Maynard is glad the buzz on the band has gotten off to a strong start, he cautions that, "The only problem I forsee is that I think a lot of kids are gonna misinterpret it as being a resurgence of punk rock or something. The whole slam-dance thing really bores the shit out of me. It's a release, I supposed, but a lot of them get out of hand. I'd rather they stand there and scream their heads off."
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