To kalutero album tou 2005
WHAT THE HELL IS IN THOSE JELLY BEANS?
Having braved the dystopia that is certain parts of Hollywood, yesterday, at the email suggestion of a member of the ‘Collective’, I dropped in on the guys at their rehearsal space to check out another Tool writing/arranging session. When I arrived around noon, everyone was there except for Danny, but within minutes he pulled up on his motorcycle, carrying a plastic grocery bag containing a couple of oranges, ready to put in a hard day’s work behind that mammoth drum kit of his. Realizing that the band was going to warm up with some older songs before working on the newer compositions, I decided to grab some lunch before planting myself in the middle of the sonic onslaught for several hours with nothing in sight except for DC’s oranges, some sugar-free Red Bulls and a small bowl filled with what appeared to be rather peculiar looking jelly beans.
When I returned, the band had just finished playing one of the newer songs, the one that Danny had earlier described as being his favorite Tool composition to date. I’d heard this lengthy, rhythmically complex song (still untitled, I believe) several weeks ago, but wanted to hear it again, mainly to see what impact Maynard’s vocals would have on it. (NOTE: if it’s any consolation, the chicken burrito and Patron margaritas at El Coyote were quite good). Without any ear-plugs (but thinking that a couple of the jelly beans might suffice), I took at seat in the middle of the guys - about two feet from Adam’s speaker cabinet, six-feet from Justin’s and less than a foot from Danny’s drums (and with all those cymbal crashes and their eternal ringing in his ears). Looking around, the first thing I noticed was that the Dry-Erase message board that the band has used since Opiate days to aid them with their song arrangements was devoid of any ‘mnemonic triggers’ and only contained a jumble of seemingly random letters and what appeared to be a crude depiction of a birthday cake with four lit candles on it. Thinking it might have been drawn by Adam, I asked him about it, but received only a vague answer about it not necessarily being a birthday cake and to look closer. He then added somewhat cryptically that there was room for a fifth candle. With this, I turned to Danny to see if he could shed some light on this apparent conundrum, but, in that he seemed to be equally mystified by something involving his electronic drums, I decided to drop it. About this time, Maynard emerged from a make-shift vocal booth and handed me his latest mock-business card. I could tell you what it said, but I don’t want to shock the pious.
After selecting some samples on the “Deep Violet” electronic drums and adjusting parameters, etc., the band launched into a new song that, at least in my mind, pretty much summed things up about the direction the new record was headed musically. To say that they have taken it up a notch would be an understatement. Several notches, perhaps, might better describe it. This wasn’t just the musical equivalent of terra incognita – this was something borderline Zothyrian, Daedalian in complexity (yet, VERY heavy) with its combination of odd time signatures, dynamics and intricacy of guitar work that was ‘synchronized’ in sections to create those “chromatic tortures” we all love so much. Danny was doing what he does best (better than ever, I might add), and the acoustic drums were combined with lots of electronic samples of dissonant clocks, warped timpani, eruptions of noise and explosions of what sounded like bizarre artillery.
For this particular song, in certain places, Adam seemed to be using the petals more often to simultaneously trigger his Virus. As for Justin, with his lightning fast bass lines, at times there were riffs that seemed almost unnatural for that instrument. I remember after Lateralus was mastered, when a couple of writers from Bass Player Magazine arrived at the management office to conduct an interview with Justin, I was the one entrusted by the band to select a few songs so that they could first hear the new record prior to doing the interview (no one except for those involved in the production had yet heard Lateralus). I’ll never forget the smile on their faces as they listened (Justin didn’t want to be in the room with them as I played the songs). Well, if they were blown away by his playing then, I’d love to see the expressions on their faces after hearing the new stuff.
The dramatic arrangement itself was about eighteen minutes long, and I would have to say, even after having only heard it once (and, more importantly, without the vocals) it was the most impressive piece I’ve heard them do. I could only imagine what it was going to sound like with Maynard’s vocals, which he was working on from the other side of the glass. I asked what the working title of this organized pandemonium was and Justin told me. Even though the name could and probably would change when Maynard was finished with the lyrics, I’m not at liberty to reveal the working title (in case it sticks), only to say that the initials are L.K. When they finished the song there was dead silence in the room. Adam then glanced at me and said that it (meaning the arrangement) wasn’t quite finished yet. “NO – it IS!” I told him, just messing with him, knowing that he is the consummate perfectionist. “That’s the new single” I joked, after guessing how many minutes long it was (after all, it might have only been fifteen minutes). “Well, my part isn’t finished” he said. Adam then asked me if I’d heard the song that I missed while I was out eating lunch. I told him that I had a couple of times, but that was a few weeks ago. He said that they would play it again because they f**ked it up the first time. Before they began, Justin walked over to the mixing console and began picking through the bowl containing the colorful assortment of newfangled jelly beans, searching for quite a while for a particular color/flavor. Adam also hunted for a certain color – a golden-yellowish one that he wanted me to try, claiming it tasted like buttered popcorn. When the heathen near-vegan declined, he popped it in his mouth and subconsciously began f**king around with a chthonic riff on his silver burst.
During the break, MJK emerged from the other room and flipped me a guitar pick that had something like “I don’t really play guitar” imprinted on it. Having remedied a glitch with the electronic drums, Danny began to tell his band mates a story which he’d already told me involving a very strange incident that occurred somewhere out in the California desert. This was told to him by a friend and former band mate (no spinner of yarns), and involved some kind of anomalous lights and an apparent abduction (either by shadowy government types or otherworldly/other dimensional beings) that contained elements that researchers like Jenny Randles would call “The OZ Factor” and others would refer to as high strangeness, but would certainly be considered by the former as a “rogue case.” We all listened intently as the series of events surrounding the “abduction” or what ever occurred as told to Danny by his friend got even more bizarre. It ended with the main person involved encountering what sounded like classic MIB types. When Danny was finished, he, Maynard and I all agreed that a field trip was needed. But first Danny would need to find out exactly where the incident occurred.
With the story finished, the band played the song that I had missed. This one was no adagio either – another dimension splitter or encounter with A’ano’nin, that was about ten minutes in length and executed to perfection. During a section midway through the piece, when I closed my eyes, I could envision a whirling cone of ‘twisted sound’ piecing the aethyrs. “What the hell is in those jelly beans?” I asked. Afterwards, as Adam, Justin and Danny worked on a certain section of another new tune, I went into the other room, the one I call the Outer Void (Ain Soph) to talk to Maynard about the planned field trip, about the music business in general and about his Arizona vineyards. I also asked him if he’d make his “green sauce” for naan bread, as I was planning on making my spicy Vindaloo for a Yuletide festivity that was still in the planning stage. And, no, I wouldn’t reveal the recipe (for either).
Back in the ‘jam’ room, the guys had worked out a certain part and were playing it together when either Adam or Justin was thrown off by a cowbell sample triggered by Danny. When the inevitable SNL/Blue Oyster Cult bit came up, there was a knock at the door. This turned out to be Ann from management. She had an envelope containing a couple of Lakers tickets for Danny who was going to the game at the Staples Center that night. I asked Adam if he was going too, but he said that he and Maynard were going to a movie instead. It was about twenty minutes until the usual quitting time, and Adam asked the others if they wanted to call it a day. Justin didn’t. He wanted to work some more on another section – “string together some pieces” he said. As I watched, he walked over to the Dry-Erase message board and wiped the slate clean. So much for the birthday cake or whatever it was (anniversary?). I left for a minute to look at something in the “Outer Void”, and when I returned, the board was filled with those mnemonic triggers that represented the various parts of the composition that was being arranged. Memoria technica or not, whatever was written there, it was only decipherable to the members of the band, but, looking at it, I fondly recalled one night during the Anima or Lateralus days, when, during a drinking bout, I erased part of the formula and replaced it with my own. By doing so, I’ve always wondered whether or not in some way I contributed to a Tool song.
After experimenting on the arrangement for about a half an hour, it was time to call it a day. I put on my jacket and told the guys that I was going to go sit in the parking lot that is the 101 freeway. Justin said something about loving the traffic, and then mentioned a pub in Santa Monica that served a wonderful selection of Belgian ales. Oddly enough, he didn’t say he was going there - just that such a place existed.
When I returned home I got a phone call from my horticulturist friend down in sunny San Diego. During the conversation with Soror Petallpynx, I told her that I’d just returned from the loft where I listened to some new prog-metal. “How did the new material sound?” the surfer girl asked. “Very perichoretic” was my answer, but when it came to specifics I told her that I had signed a confidentiality agreement. However, I did mention the jelly beans. “Were they jelly beans or jelly bellys?” she wanted to know. “I don’t know, but there was one that Adam said tasted like buttered popcorn.” “That’s my favorite! There’s also one that tastes like caramel corn… and the toasted marshmallow one tastes like marshmallows toasted over a campfire.” “Is there one that tastes like Belgian ale?” I asked her. If so, I guess I’ll have to go back to the loft in a few days to try one. It wouldn’t be too bad to hear L.K. again either.
