Full Review by The Riff Report Blog โ€“ July 5, 2025
Stage: Back To The Beginning Main Stage
Band: TOOL (USA)
Time: 11:11pm. Full moon. Phase-shifted reality. ๐ŸŒ•โณ


๐Ÿง  โ€œTHINK FOR YOURSELF. QUESTION EVERYTHING.โ€ โ€“ TOOL TRANSCEND REALITY IN BIRMINGHAM ๐Ÿ›ธ

If you were expecting circle pits and beer-fuelled chaosโ€ฆ you wandered into the wrong dimension, butt. TOOL didnโ€™t just perform at Villa Park โ€” they summoned a parallel universe, dragged us through it, and deposited our shattered souls gently back into our skulls.

For 90 surreal, cinematic, jaw-dropping minutes, Maynard James Keenan and crew unleashed a sacred geometry of sound, where every note was calculated and every silence spoke louder than pyro ever could.


๐ŸŽง THE SETLIST โ€“ A TRIP THROUGH TIME, SPACE & THE HUMAN PSYCHE

  • Fear Inoculum
  • The Pot (yes, that bassline still thunders through your bones)
  • Parabola
  • Pneuma
  • Schism (played in reverse time signatures? Weโ€™re still confused)
  • Descending
  • The Grudge
  • Intolerance
  • Jambi (that talkbox solo was actual sorcery)
  • Forty Six & 2
  • Stinkfist (the finale: spiritual. cathartic. filthy.)

๐Ÿ‘ค MAYNARD: THE ENIGMA IN THE SHADOWS

Maynard didnโ€™t strut. He didnโ€™t crowd surf. He didnโ€™t scream for pits.
He stood on a riser at the back, cloaked in shadow and LED light, barely visible โ€” a priest of the weird, chanting over us like we were part of some psychedelic ritual.

At one point, he simply whispered:
โ€œYouโ€™re not at a concert. Youโ€™re at a recalibration.โ€
And then launched into โ€œPneumaโ€ with the quiet intensity of someone mid-exorcism. ๐Ÿ•ฏ๏ธ


๐ŸŽธ ADAM JONES = RIFF SCIENTIST ๐Ÿ‘จโ€๐Ÿ”ฌ๐Ÿ”Š

Jones didnโ€™t just play guitar โ€” he sculpted sound from thin air. His work on โ€œSchismโ€ and โ€œJambiโ€ felt like watching a man wield a laser scalpel made of distortion. Razor sharp. Emotionally surgical. Trippy as all hell.

His tones made people sway involuntarily. One guy near us whispered, โ€œMy spine is vibrating.โ€ Yeah, same.


๐Ÿฅ DANNY CAREY: ACTUAL WIZARD IN DRUMMER FORM ๐Ÿง™โ€โ™‚๏ธ๐Ÿฅ

We donโ€™t say this lightly โ€” Danny Carey might be the greatest living drummer.
His solo in โ€œThe Grudgeโ€ was a polyrhythmic hurricane delivered through sacred geometry.
He played on a drum kit forged in another galaxy and tuned to the sound of your soul dissolving.

During โ€œForty Six & 2,โ€ he hit a triplet sequence so intense someone in the crowd spoke in tongues. Another person fainted. Probably just overwhelmed by the off-time genius.


๐ŸŽจ JUSTIN CHANCELLOR โ€“ THE BASSLINE SERPENT ๐Ÿ

If Tool is a puzzle, Justin is the glue that holds it together while whispering riddles in Latin.
The bass tone on โ€œThe Potโ€ was so filthy you could smell it.
His groove on โ€œIntoleranceโ€ physically altered the Earthโ€™s magnetic field. Scientists may be investigating.

He played entire passages with his eyes closed, head tilted, looking like a monk being electrocuted in slow motion. Iconic.


๐ŸŽฅ VISUALS โ€“ NOT A SHOW. A COSMIC EXPERIENCE.

The screen behind Tool wasnโ€™t just a backdrop. It was a portal.
Spirals. Aliens. Eyes. Cells dividing. Interdimensional jellyfish.
Think HR Giger meets Carl Sagan on mushrooms, and youโ€™re still not close.

Every song had a visual experience layered in. โ€œParabolaโ€ showed rebirth in reverse. โ€œStinkfistโ€ was basically a night terror in 4K. It was beautiful. It was disturbing. It was art.


๐Ÿง˜โ€โ™‚๏ธ THE CROWD โ€“ HEADBANGING & MEDITATING SIMULTANEOUSLY

No pits. No beer showers. Just thousands of people entranced, headbanging in unison.
There were tears. There were people hugging. One guy sat in full lotus position for half the show. Another whispered โ€œIโ€™ve seen the inside of my brainโ€ฆโ€

You donโ€™t mosh to Tool. You ascend.


๐Ÿ•ฏ๏ธ POWERFUL MOMENT: THE WHOLE DAMN THING

Tool didnโ€™t do tributes. They didnโ€™t do shoutouts.
They just delivered โ€” sonically, emotionally, spiritually.
When โ€œStinkfistโ€ hitโ€ฆ you could feel 30,000 people explode silently inside. A final purge. A release. A moment of collective catharsis.

Then they left the stage. No fireworks. Just a whispered โ€œThank youโ€ and a spotlight fading into static.


๐ŸŽฏ FINAL VERDICT: TOOL = METALโ€™S STRANGE, BEAUTIFUL MESSIAHS

You canโ€™t explain a Tool show. You survive it.
They donโ€™t care about being cool. They care about truth. And in that moment, they were the truest band on the planet.

Score: โˆž/10 Fibonacci Time Signatures ๐ŸŒ€
Mood: Spiritually punched in the face, then gently tucked into bed.

Diolch, Tool โ€“ for making us feel everything and understand nothing at all.