It's hard to imagine that Tool formed one day, as any regular band would. It seems much more plausible that a rip in our dimension formed and Tool just sort of spawned from the nether regions, and nobody ever really questioned it.
While that definitely seems like it would be right, Maynard James Keenan recalls to Rolling Stone how the band formed. Keenan discusses his distaste for bands that were just "singing and dancing" to make a quick buck, and finally being called out on saying that he could do better than most of the bands out there. Fortunately for us, and for the rest of the world, Keenan did, and here we are today.
Of course, you really ought to grab Keenan's biography A Perfect Union Of Contrary Things as a pre-order before it comes out on November 8.
Over midnight breakfasts at Canter's Deli, at the picnic table at the Libertyville barbecues, in the back corner of Raji's, Adam [Jones] had hinted for months that he and Maynard should collaborate. He'd heard the C.A.D. cassette, seen Maynard's Green Jellö performances, and upped his urging after Mother fizzled. But Maynard had remained resistant. "I hadn't seen what Adam was capable of," he would recall. "I knew he was a successful special-effects makeup artist at Stan Winston, but I wasn't sure what he could do musically."
He'd observed Adam's slow and meticulous process in assembling Mother – slower at least than that of Maynard, who once he embarked on a project, whether an aviary or an 800-mile walk, worked obsessively to complete it to perfection. And he wasn't about to deal with the same lack of commitment he'd seen in the Grand Rapids bands. Unless his new bandmates shared his hunger to succeed, he knew the group would stay together for no more than one or two loft parties.
But Adam was persistent, and Maynard began to take his interest seriously. "It didn't matter who I got into the room," Maynard would explain. "The band would have a different vibe with the different people, so it didn't make much difference at that point who it was. Any reservation I had about working with specific people was irrelevant. I had an idea and I was going to see it through."
It was up to Maynard to communicate his vision – the pure simplicity of the arrangements, the minimalist sonic approach, the archetypes of pain and redemption underlying the lyrics, the raw emotion reflected in guitar and clashing cymbals. Once the others agreed on the parts that must be in place, individual differences would take care of themselves. "The geometry of this table we were building was very basic," Maynard explained. "It wasn't Victorian. It was four legs with a top on it, a very simple structure. If somebody was going to start doing guitar solos and noodling everywhere, this just wouldn't work."
Maynard invited Adam to jam on a basic song structure and recognized immediately his rhythm skills, his methodical pace that reflected commitment to his craft, and he had no doubt he'd lay down a firm base for his words and fury. Adam was no noodler.
Adam brought one afternoon to Danny [Carey]'s rehearsal space a new Stan Winston coworker, a Spokane transplant who spent his days creating special effects until his dream of working in film might come true. Paul D'Amour's skills at the pool table were matched only by his proficiency on bass. A member of a number of Washington bands that had never quite gotten off the ground, he was eager to audition for a part in any new group with even a whiff of success about it.
Maynard leaned forward when Paul began his aggressive picking, a style he immediately imagined enhancing the song he'd been working on that morning. Paul was an ideal candidate to fill in on bass, Maynard told Adam – at least until a full-time player might turn up.
Read the entire excerpt over at Rolling Stone to learn how Danny Carey joined. Also, make sure to check out our piece on Tool's breakthrough full-length album, Opiate.
