
On Ghosteen, the shock of Cave's son's death has passed, but devastation and isolation have slowly transformed into memories and loneliness and Cave finds himself asking more questions than ever. Now it's on to "what do I do now, where do I go?(Sputnik). There are no easy answers as Tracy Thorn masterfully conveys in her review of the album. “The past with its savage undertow” appears in two songs – in one it lets go, while in another, it will never let go, there is no escape. And you feel that both are true. There is no resolution. Songs hint at the possibility of recovery, then evert to despair. The need for acceptance of loss is in constant tension with the impossibility of acceptance."
Yet, by the end of the album, you get a sense that he has come to terms as he sings "it's a long way to find peace of mind, and I'm just waiting now for my time to come." This is an astonishing album that is a must listen.
Tool fans, such as myself, waited 13 long years for the band’s follow up to 10,000 Days. And now, in 2019, we have Fear Inoculum to consume and ponder. This is a monster of an album built on patience and precision, each track unfolding like a slow-turning wheel. TOOL moves through extended passages where riffs spiral outward, dissolve, and re-form, carried by Danny Carey’s intricate drumming that feels equal parts ritual and calculation. Adam Jones’ guitar work cuts and swells in perfect balance with Justin Chancellor’s bass, while Maynard James Keenan’s voice arrives with patient, deliberate phrasing, threading its way through the dense and deliberate arrangements.
The record’s scale demands full attention. Across its hour-and-a-half runtime, Fear Inoculum creates an atmosphere where time feels suspended. Every note, rest, and shift in texture is placed with intention. This is TOOL on their own timeline, crafting something vast enough to step into and stay for a while. It was an album worth the wait.










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