Okay, I am so going to have to try that. Like, immediately.
The problem, of course, is that I don’t already have rosin in the house–and something as “not essential” as a music store is almost certainly unavailable to me during this trying time. (Roll around in your head, for a moment, how ludicrous is the notion that music is somehow not essential to good health.) I’ll look, for sure, but I already know what I’m (not) going to find.
Well…as soon as possible, then. May it not wind up to be months.
I had no idea, indeed. Less than a day after hearing the news of his passing and needing to get some thoughts out (below, unedited), I chased a couple of links on my lunch break…and got the basics of a story so stunningly horrifying that I’m not sure it would pass as credible fiction.
This was clearly a pretty remarkable human being, and the story I didn’t know has suddenly made the travails of the day–and of the time–pale into [their proper] insignificance.
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And so passes drummer, keyboardist, guitarist, fairy duster, Crafty, and kindred spirit Bill Rieflin. Others may know him from his work with Ministry (and its own extended universe) and REM, but I first became aware of him by observing how obviously important he was to the greater Guitar Craft universe. From there, I discovered his 1999 solo effort Birth of a Giant and the same year’s collaboration with Robert Fripp and Trey Gunn, The Repercussions of Angelic Behavior. And then of course he became part of the original triple-drummer-frontline of the Seven Headed Beast of Crim in 2013. This clip is of that unit flexing a bit in rehearsal:
As it happened, Bill later went on sabbatical and Crimson continued with bowler-hat-whiz Jeremy Stacey at the third drumkit; when Rieflin returned, rather than adding a fourth drummer into the well-oiled-machine, he suggested he instead be a dedicated keyboardist. His credits soon also included “fairy dusting”.
And boy, that latter term makes me smile. Given everything I know about the man, “fairy dusting” seems amazingly appropriate; it’s not like I knew him personally or anything (frankly I had no idea he’d been battling cancer), but it seemed obvious enough that he was one of those forces of nature that can accomplish things simply with the force of his presence and his intention. Crim has always spoken of its “good fairy” as a guiding force for the group, and I’ve no doubt that the Crim muse had comfortable access to Bill Rieflin as one of the “unlikely characters” to carry its voice.
Ooh, a really useful entry from geekmeister Rick Beato, covering some of his thinking and ideas on using single-note lines to play rhythm parts.
For Crafties, the notion of “spread triads” is nothing new; the Guitar Craft standard tuning in fifths (C2-G2-D3-A3-E4-G4) essentially makes the spread triad the default voicing for any chord. But I definitely did find it interesting to see how he permuted his exercises from basic arpeggio outlining, to practical manifestation within chord progressions, and then adding rhythmic variations.
I’ve never much been one for dissecting musical lyrics. So much of it just seems…inconsequential, somehow, if not outright silly. And I’m not just talking about the usual criticisms of obvious lyrical junk food such as “baby baby baby” and the like; I don’t think those even pretend to be profound, and if you don’t try to take it too seriously, hell, it can be plenty of fun. More eye-rolling, perhaps, is some of the “progressive” music I otherwise love so much; let’s face it, a lot of Yes’ words (just to pick on one example) seem nearly impenetrably pompous, for all the beauty of their vocal delivery…similarly, a lot of art-rock and “fusion” lyrics are just cheesy…and even the best moments of the best wordsmiths still often seem to have that sense of “look at me, I’m making a statement!” draped around them. To me it seems like the classic writer’s criticism that a second-rate author tells a story, while a first-rate author shows a story.
And so in my drives to work recently, as I’ve been happily digesting the Fear Inoculum album from Tool, it occurs to me that the song “Fear Inoculum”, is actually highly appropriate for this absurd moment in history. As hordes of otherwise intelligent people seem eager to trip over themselves to see who can jump to the most conclusions the fastest, the words of “Fear Inoculum” seem surprisingly poignant.
Full disclosure, of course: I am fast becoming a shameless Tool fanboy, but that doesn’t mean the point is not considered. One thing I find refreshing about this group is how consistently they all downplay the depth of their own work, even poking fun at it, both on the musical and the lyrical side. And I specifically like how (lyricist) Keenan prefers to keep the ambiguity alive whenever possible; he seems to believe in the idea that the best art is personal, with as little provided “guidance” as possible. Splendid.
There is a further problem with talking about Tool lyrics, too. The words, on the page, bear little resemblance to the vocal sound-painting that Keenan drapes over the music; I would argue that it is truly not possible to separate the two when discussing any real particulars. To wit: you gotta listen to this stuff; you’ll get things that you can’t possibly get without the context. So, have the lyrics handy to confirm what you’re hearing, but by all means, listen to it the way it was intended:
Like many other Tool pieces, “Fear Inoculum” seems to be an introspective observation; in this case, a reflective appreciation of successfully conquering hysteria-fueled fear by gaining understanding. What I like most about it, and also what seems to make it so poignant today, is the rich metaphor Keenan leans on to make this point. It’s not that the character conquers fear, which is an event that would happen once; instead, his experience and understanding inoculates—immunizes–him against the mania, which is something far more permanent, far more repeatable. The disease metaphor works beautifully on multiple levels, and other words like venom (actively injected, not passively absorbed). contagion (not just suffering but further transmissible suffering), and mitosis (again, a repeatable act of growing anew, rather than a singular event which decays with time) are inspired lyrical choices, even aside from their beautifully shaped and crafted delivery.
Of course then there’s the music too, which is–ahem–infectious. It strikes me similarly as “Invincible” from the same record, in that it somehow seems rather classically structured, as a theme-and-variations suite. In particular, I’ve been repeatedly struck by Chancellor’s ridiculously simple entering bassline; this is a compact masterclass on how to propel a piece vigorously, with shockingly little in the way of notes. And of course there’s all the other usual stuff too: these guys are just…really good at their craft, and it shows.
Gloriously well done. And something to aspire to, in these tiresome times.
It is hard to overstate how much a treasure YouTube can be. For all its aggravations and irritations–many of which are very real–it nonetheless makes some things possible which otherwise…well, would not likely happen, at least.
And so I stumbled across this video clip, apparently sponsored by Vic Firth drumsticks, of a closeup capture (several angles) of Danny Carey at the drumkit, on tour with Tool in Boston, playing “Pneuma” from the Fear Inoculum record.
Yeah, even I’ve been surprised at how quickly Carey has vaulted his way into the top tier of my personal pantheon of favorite drummers. (Among other things, how many other 58-year-old drummers do you know that can play like that? Sure, there are some notables, but it’s not a large group.)
What a treat, to be able to see these orchestrations, his unique phrasing and style, as he plays. Actually, this sort of clip reminds me, vividly, of the dawn of the age of music videos and MTV (remember that?); historically, that time was very coincident with my own musical awakening, so I was newly and really paying attention; but, for the life of me, I could notunderstand what the big deal was about trying to make a bolted-on, dinky little movie for every song. The only “music videos” I found interesting were the ones that featured live performances, and specifically those where you got some chance to see the group playing their instruments. There weren’t many of these on the whole, but on the other hand those such as there were often did show something interesting, usually either overt stage theatrics from a front man or guitar hero, or just plain interesting musicianship. I, of course, was most interested in the latter, and ate up everything I managed to see.
This explains rather neatly, really, why I’ve so come to love YouTube as a resource. When I really think about it, it’s simply astonishing how much is available, and how good some of it can be at highlighting exactly the sort of thing I love to see. This clip of Carey, here, represents exactly the sort of thing I most love to watch; I may have little interest in the “dancing-about-architecture” aesthetic of the archetypal “music video”, but I do love to see how music that is already interesting on its own, is played.
In Danny Carey’s case, this clip shows vividly how much of a monster he really is; his enthusiasm, emotion, and craft are plainly evident, and it’s also clear that he’s entirely in service to the piece and the group. Can’t really ask much more of a craftsman or an artist…
I’d be curious to see how and if he can do improvisation. From what I can tell thus far, Tool is not an improvising group, and while it’d be absurd to expect that all great groups can and should do improv, someone who loves it as much as I do might be forgiven for wondering what might happen, if the copiously creative precision and craft of a group like Tool were to turn its attention to group improv. One can dream…
I needed, this morning, some Tool, and Pandora came through with “Invincible” from the Fear Inoculum record.
Yeah, I am loving this latest release. Aside from a general gushing about the more obvious awesomeness, what struck me today, as a captive listener in the car, was how classical the style of composition is. And as I think about it, this seems more and more obvious: many of Tool’s longer compositions, in and of themselves, fully meet the parameters of a theme-and-variations suite, or arguably even a compact symphony. Tool might not call it that, but that’s really what it is. Consider all the things that evolve and develop over a longer-format piece like “Invincible”, or “7empest”, or “Lateralus”, etc.: themes emerge, develop, fade, and resurface, sometimes permuted, sometimes simply restated. (Over the last few days I’ve also been listening to Shostakovich‘s fourth and eleventh symphonies, so maybe the idea is on my mind, but I see a great deal of parallel here, at least in the compositional style.)
This notion fits, as well, with things I’ve heard coming from Tool itself, in interviews. Their albums often contain minor pieces which can certainly be viewed as interludes between larger movements, and which are difficult to appreciate out of context. This is of course something that we’ve seen before in the world of rock operas and “theme” or “concept” albums, but I find it at interesting that the structure is evident at least somewhat fractally, both across the album and within a song like “Invincible”. I’ve also heard it stated that at least at one point, the Fear Inoculum record was intended to be considered a single piece of music; the way Tool puts its albums together, I can absolutely see the point in that.
I’m sure I’m not the first to make this observation, but it does seem easy to miss, with Tool so often lumped into the “metal” genre as it is. It’s been often observed that metal music sometimes employs neoclassical elements, but that’s usually at a much smaller scale of reference–usually phrasing, or melodic or harmonic conventions, or even chord progressions. The larger compositional frameworks, such as suites and symphonies, have mostly been approached by those in the “progressive” rock idiom (I’m thinking of things like Yes’ “Close to the Edge”, Rush’s “Hemispheres”, or Genesis’ “Supper’s Ready”), and Tool does sometimes get considered as “prog”…
But thus far at least, the group doesn’t seem to have called attention to any of this. Whereas with something like a Shostakovich symphony, we speak of large movements and give them names usually based on something structural (e.g., “Allegro”, “Largo”, “Andante”); or, with a “prog” suite like “Close to the Edge” or “Supper’s Ready” we get a smaller-scale breakdown, with names trending to the lofty, impenetrable, or absurd (e.g., “Total Mass Retain”, “As Sure As Eggs Is Eggs (Aching Men’s Feet)”); Tool seems simply to write in this style and then to say little about it.
Somehow this seems in keeping with their style, of doing-it-their-way-without-apology and then letting the result speak for itself. (And somehow, that makes me think of Zappa, who employed that trait to legendary effect.)
I admit, I’ve become a real fan of the sound of the oud, and of at least a portion of its traditions. I’m also an unabashed fan of mutt music, and blended traditions.
And so there is this tune, “Shrewd Woman”, that comes up on my Dhafer Youssef station on Pandora.
Every single time it does, I go to give it a thumbs-up…only to find I already have. Hm.
It’s a wonderful piece. Punchy, hypnotic, expressive, and altogether too brief. At some point I’ll have to seek out some more of Rabih Abou-Khalil’s work…but for now, a bookmark.
Craftygrass 