Hey…it took Tool 13 years to follow up 10,000 Days, so I figure another six for me to actually get around to really listening to it isn’t going to bother anyone. And honestly, I’m glad for the extra time because all the insane hype and commentary around what Fear Inoculum turned out to be versus was fans wanted it to be was more than a bit distracting and intense. And not just the album: with the rise of YouTube “content creators” it seems everyone has an opinion about the band – they were only good on the EP, they write music that makes you have to “think” too much – I literally just watched a video where that was the complaint. It’s too complex to have any real emotion – that’s another I just saw. I needed to get away from all the rhetoric and just sit back and listen. And guess what? It’s a Tool album, which means for better or for worse to your ears it’s exactly what Maynard, Adam, Justin and Danny wanted it to be. I like it.

I was 20 when Undertow came out, and remember everyone and their brother gasping over the songs like “Sober” and “Prison Sex”, marveling at the videos as much as the incredible production and undulating rhythms. I was an immediate fan, scrambling through the internet’s alt communities for the lyrics to the songs. When Ænima broke the band even bigger I was floored, reveling in their odd time signatures and syncopations as much as Maynard’s vocals and his ability to craft a killer chorus. It felt like the apex of that kind of music, and Tool must have agreed, because it took five years for Lateralus, an album I adore (“The Grudge” might be my all-time favorite Tool song) to rear its head, but things were changing. Songs were stretching out even more, riffs repeated in some serpentine labyrinth in the name of a vibe I was starting not to catch. It’s a trend that continued five years later with 10,000 Days, a record I’m vaguely ashamed to say I barely know beyond the singles, despite owning it since the day of its release.

So where does that leave Fear Inoculum? The track list varies depending on whether you got the CD, the vinyl, or are listening digitally, with digital having the full album and vinyl having all but one smaller track, “Litanie contre la peur“. If anything the band have stretched even further into a hypnotic, roiling progressive fever dream, with the primary songs ranging from 10-16 minutes, all subtly shifting in both rhythm and temperament. Immaculately produced as ever by the band with Joe Baressi on hand to record and Bob Ludwig again mixing and mastering with the band, once you find your way into the songs it’s mesmerizing, and is filled with incredibly catchy and memorable riffs and ideas. I think the concept of Tool being inaccessible is hogwash; it doesn’t require a degree to understand the sinewy melodies and guitar work, or the astonishing drum clinic Carey puts on with every performance. It requires a little bit of patience, and a willingness to follow the band according to their muse.

It starts with the single and leadoff title track, which admittedly left me perplexed upon its initial release. Starting with a slightly inebriated 4/4 layer accentuated by Carey’s percussion, Chancellor’s bass comes in and even without the pounding kick you can’t mistake “Fear Inoculum” for anything other than a classic Tool song. Maynard comes in softly, and as the song progresses and his voice rises in volume and power it brings the entire song with it, until we get to around the four-minute mark with “Exhale / Expel” and we’re off and running. The second half is a marvel of syncopation and re-stating the theme in a different cadence, and even if you don’t immediately hear it, the way they bring up the tension and dynamics are instantly apparent.

If anything can be called a “classic” Tool track, it’s probably “Pneuma” with so many time signature switch-up it had Mike Portnoy cursing Carey’s name. My takeaway from the song is the same the first time I heard “Forty Six & 2” 30 years ago: Adam Jones and Justin Chancellor have the single best guitar and bass tones I have ever heard in my entire life. I love how Chancellor accentuates the upper register of the bass, never keeping to the low end, insisting on these exquisite countermelodies against Jones’s guitar work.

After the brief respite of segue “Litanie contre la peur” it’s off to the next major epic, and right now I think “Invincible” is my favorite track on Fear Inoculum. It’s another heavy prog epic, its 7/4 rhythm and extended intro inducing you to slip into open spaces. It sounds like every instrument is playing in different places until it snaps into place with that locked in signature Tool riff. The second half of the song slows things down further,. moving into space rock, progressive sludge, and finally back into the light with that crunchy muted palm riffing.

It’s followed by the brief electronic excursion “Legion Inoculant” and I’ll admit that with a few exceptions over their discography I tend to gloss over Tool’s shorter experiments. That being said, Fear Inoculum has maybe the least obtrusive ones to date, and I do like the breath of static before diving into “Descending”. True to its name, the song takes you the furthest under, taking its sweet time (almost six minutes) before it’s finally unleashed with some wicked syncopated Adam Jones power chords and…slide guitar? Yes, slide guitar. It works, trust me. It might be the least successful full song for me; I love the second half where Jones basically solos like a madman but the beginning takes a little too long to get to the punch the song needs.

“Culling Voices” sounds like a lot of back-half Tool songs: fine but lost in the seriously front-loaded sequencing. It sits there for me with songs like “Intension” or “Disposition” (a song I still can’t remember). The Tool formula is firmly in place: long, winding first half that explodes in the middle, then settles back down, often with a twisty, syncopated drum stack from Carey. Between this and “Descending” I think a little judicious editing to bring these songs down a few minutes would have made both play better. Neither certainly turn me off to Fear Inoculum at all, but they do make me sit up and realize howe long they are, and that’s a problem.

That leaves two interstitial pieces – the almost five minute long electronic sampling pulse of “Chocolate Chip Trip” which at least has Danny Carey going nuts on the drums – and “Mockingbeat” which closes the album in typical Tool fashion: noise and ambience that ultimately go nowhere (I told you I typically skip these). Sandwiched in between is the mother of the album, the almost 16-minute “7empest” which aims for and largely grabs the crazy aggressive rock of the earlier albums, sporting a funky hard rock guitar lick that passes in and out of the band’s multiple sections and instrumental breaks. But it’s a trick – a great trick but still a trick, as the gates close and you’re shuffled in the tempest (or 7tempest) itself, the band enrolling through seemingly dozens of chopped up riffs and breaks, Maynard’s bark piercing through the maelstrom of bass and drums locking against Jones’s guitar waves. His solo that ramps up around the 11-minute mark is outrageous, squealing feedback and more notes than he’s probably played on a single song in 20 years. Ends beautifully, which again leaves me as to why they always insist on something like “Mockingbeat” as a aural joke.

But it’s Tool, and they’re gonna do what they do. Away from the knee-jerk reactions and the initial release (after saying they wouldn’t take this long again it’s now almost six years since it came out) I found that lately I return to Fear Inoculum more than any of the band’s other albums. It’s a trance for me, settling me into a relaxed state where my mind can drift and pick up on small nuances here and there, and settle back down in the gorgeous lulls. I wasn’t looking for the greatest album of all time; I was looking for a Tool album, and I got one.