ÆNIMA

I feel Tool's absolute high point. I feel a crystal CD case that no longer holds together, all the nubbins holding it together having shattered. Dig the Cracker Jack cover. Someone's ripped it apart, or maybe it just hit the floor one too many times during...

Get with the dynamics, the percussion, the beat, the ever-present incessant wandering beat and the bottom end. Get with the sonic explosions, Crank it up you fucking ass, crank it up on the headphones...your hearing is shot anyway. Get wit the rhythm of of Eulogy.

We've got through Stinkfist and Eulogy and it's already pert much one of the best albums you'll ever hear. Listen how they dial it up and dial it down. Listen how Maynard can slither through dangerous savannah grasses like a snake on H.

The band is a rhythm machine. It's the rhythmic soundtrack of SoCal ending up somewhere around Catalina, near the Nixon Library, post-Aenima.

This band never disappoints. Never. Not on this one. I listen to this; I feel like some kind of voyeur. I'm there when it all happens. I'm there when it sounds like Blue Cheer. I'm there when it sounds like ZZ Top. I'm there when the pulse starts. I'm there when it sounds like we're all falling off the edge, towards that shining city on the hill just in sight.

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