It’s finally safe to broach this topic, now that my email filters are diligently tossing anything with “tool,” “fuck you,” or “teh” straight into the digital abyss. Beyond the predictable Tool-bashing, I’ve also been compiling a catalog of truly terrible rock songs. Consider this a cautionary tale, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll learn something about music, or at least about enduring internet rage.
I was actually deep into crafting a magnum opus on why Three Dog Night reigns supreme, but at page 40, it felt more like a doctoral thesis in progress. Doctorates are great, but let’s scale things back to community college level today. The digital masses have clamored for Tool critique, flooding my inbox with demands. Resistance is futile, it seems.
Chapter IV: Yes, You’re Officially “That” Tool Fan
What’s the allure of Tool fandom? Is it the intellectual puzzle of spotting Bill Hicks references hidden in their tracks? Is it that Tool teeters on the edge of prog-rock respectability, yet remains just edgy enough to avoid full-blown Rush-level nerd status? Perhaps it’s the badge of honor in belonging to the most universally mocked music subculture outside of Insane Clown Posse devotees. Even Tool seems to loathe their own fanbase, if songs like “Ticks and Leeches” and “Hooker with a Penis” are anything to go by. The fervor surrounding Tool is legendary, almost cult-like. Many emailers insisted Tool was beyond reproach, a musical Everest with no flaws. Clearly, they are deeply mistaken.
Image alt text: A digitally distorted and unflattering caricature of a male face with exaggerated features, intended to humorously represent a stereotypical Tool fan.
The majority of Tool-related emails echoed a common sentiment: “I love Tool, but I can’t stand Tool fans!” Apparently, there’s a legion of sanctimonious Tool devotees who believe only the enlightened truly “get” Tool’s multifaceted genius. Conversely, there’s a supposed underbelly of “fake” Tool fans making the “real” ones look bad. Intriguing, because my personal encounters have been exclusively with the self-proclaimed enlightened kind. One would expect, if posers outnumbered genuine fans tenfold, my inbox would be flooded with messages like, “tool r awesum cuz claymation vidz n maynard is god.”
But no. There’s only one species of Tool fan: the one who believes Tool fandom is a secret society of superior intellect. They envision themselves as possessing the exclusive Tool decoder ring. They desperately want to believe the masses listening to Tool are clueless sheep, while in reality, everyone’s listening for the same reasons. The truth is, Tool isn’t conceptually complex; any average person can grasp their music. The band’s genius lies in crafting the illusion of intellectual depth. They achieve this, as every Tool fan will proudly explain, by scattering vague allusions to introductory psychology, obscure religious symbolism, and random gibberish throughout their work. Nonsense or not, as long as there’s something to interpret, some puzzle to solve, it makes the listener, especially the perpetually stoned, feel intellectually superior.
Of course, Tool offers more than just pseudo-intellectual puzzles. There’s Maynard James Keenan’s (second silliest name in music, just behind Idlewild’s Roddy Woomble) strained, breathy, and intensely affected vocal style. He’s essentially the Morrissey of hard rock. He’s also hailed as a profound lyricist, successfully convincing millions of Beavis and Butthead clones they’re edgy rebels for blasting songs that, let’s be honest, sound vaguely suggestive even if “not really about that, man, it’s deeper.” Frankly, it’s baffling how anyone mistakes his heavy-handed angst for profound poetry. “My shadow / shedding skin / I’ve been picking / my scabs again.” It’s closer to Nine Inch Nails than W.B. Yeats. He’s singing about teenage angst and vague discontent, the hard rock equivalent of emo. Tool acolytes will argue he’s channeling a traumatic past, but abuse narratives are hardly groundbreaking; it just places him in the same profound poetic league as, say, Korn’s Jonathan Davis.
Tool devotees also endlessly praise Danny Carey’s drumming prowess, solely because he can navigate odd time signatures and execute that rapid-fire prog-rock drum barrage. As for the rest, from what I’ve endured of “Tool Songs,” the guitarist and bassist are, at best, competent. In fact, hearing “Lateralus” on the radio years ago, the conspicuously uninspired guitar work was jarring. Furthermore, Tool’s album quality is as unpredictable as a game of Russian roulette. For every somewhat catchy, radio-friendly “tool song” like “46 and 2,” there’s double the filler material, unlistenable tracks seemingly designed to pad out the runtime. It’s almost as if the band is generously padding their CDs with German cookie recipes and angry answering machine messages as bonus content, knowing actual songs might be in short supply. Perhaps their record deal includes a bonus for hitting that 79-minute CD capacity.
Claymation: Profound or just creepy?
They are the ultimate fusion of heavy metal and progressive rock, arguably the two most pretentious and musically questionable genres. They walk a tightrope between flattering and insulting the listener’s intelligence. They reintroduced a level of unintentional faux-satanic mysticism to mainstream music not seen since the Eagles’ “Hotel California.” Their musical sins haven’t gone unpunished, though. They are cursed with a notoriously insufferable fanbase, consistently awful haircuts, and music videos so relentlessly gloomy they veer into unintentional comedy. If you’re a Tool fan and disagree with this assessment of “tool songs” and the band, feel free to maintain your typically loud and unwarranted silence for once.
Chapter IV and Three Quarters: A Brief Detour into Truly Awful Songs (Tool Songs Not Included, Surprisingly)
Rolling Stone and VH1 seem locked in a perpetual list-making frenzy, so I’d jeopardize my critical standing if I didn’t join the fray. In my last rant, I declared Peter Gabriel’s “Games Without Frontiers” a bottom-ten contender. This sparked a flurry of emails demanding the full list. So, here they are. I’m sticking to rock songs, in the classic sense, not the VH1 definition (everything recorded in the last half-century). And I’m focusing on songs that were, at minimum, minor hits. Otherwise, drowning this list in obscure indie garbage would be far too easy. Let’s dive into auditory misery.
10. Peter Gabriel – Games Without Frontiers No song makes me switch radio stations faster. If I hesitate, that grating female voice chanting “jeux sans frontiers” will be stuck in my head for months. And that’s not even the biggest issue. The lyrics are some of the most vapid nonsense ever penned; look them up for a good laugh at lyrical ineptitude.
9. Oasis – All Around The World Oasis isn’t known for intellectual depth, but how did they imagine a seven-minute song built on a monotonous repetition of a weak chorus would work? Perhaps layering on a wall of sonic sludge was meant to mask the lyrical and melodic void (not that they ever have much to say). The comedic peak is Liam’s mangled pronunciation: “These are crazy days but they make me sheeeeeyine.” Liam Gallagher, your hilariously butchered vowels are truly noteworthy.
8. Kajagoogoo – Too Shy Only a historical revisionist of the most despicable kind could argue this was ever remotely good. It’s pure sonic irritation from the man who inflicted the Neverending Story theme song upon the world. And yes, their hair was offensively worse than A Flock of Seagulls.
7. Nine Days – Absolutely (Story Of A Girl) From the dregs of sentimental, Dawson’s Creek-era alterna-pop, this was the absolute nadir. This saccharine drivel makes Vertical Horizon’s “Everything You Want” sound like Motörhead. The opening line: “This is the story of a girl who cried a river and drowned the whole world.” Seriously, what happened to rock music? The only fitting end for Nine Days would be career-ending obscurity, but even then, someone would probably play Blink-182’s “Adam’s Song” at their funeral. They’re destined to be remembered as “the band that paved the way for the All-American Rejects.”
Image alt text: A digitally manipulated image depicting a close-up of a person’s bare feet, humorously implying a grotesque and unhygienic scenario related to the Def Leppard song lyrics.
6. Def Leppard – Pour Some Sugar On Me Consider the actual lyrical content for a moment. The singer’s FEET are HOT AND STICKY. And apparently, SWEET. The implication is an invitation to taste HIS HOT, STICKY FEET. If that doesn’t induce nausea, the aggressively awful 80s production certainly should. Humorous aside: some misguided soul emailed suggesting I dedicate an entire column to mocking Def Leppard, under the delusion they still had fans. He himself, a Def Leppard devotee, even ran a Def Leppard fan site. This world is a profoundly strange and disturbing place.
5. Reef – Place Your Hands A minor MTV hit from 1997. You might wonder how such a musical footnote could rank so high on a “worst of” list. Simple: this song is profoundly wack. Unthinkably, offensively wack. If you recall it, the opening lines (a guttural, tuneless “OH PLACE YOUR HANDS”) were enough to trigger immediate channel changes. If you don’t remember it, seek it out. Try to endure 15 seconds. It’s the ultimate test of auditory endurance.
4. Green Day – Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life) If you experienced high school graduation, appeared in a TV show finale, or attended a teen funeral in the late 90s, the awfulness of this song is self-evident. There are two categories of people: those who despise this song with every fiber of their being, and complete and utter fools.
Boston T-shirt Guy: Peak coolness?
3. Boston – More Than A Feeling Many are probably thinking, “Hey, I kind of like that song.” Yes, that’s its insidious power. It’s musical fast food: engineered with so much artificial flavoring it has a broad, if shallow, appeal. More overdubs than a My Bloody Valentine track, more saccharine than maple syrup. No matter your musical credibility, your indie rock credentials, or your bedroom prowess, this song is your secret shame. It’s the song that instantly uncools you.
2. Staind – It’s Been Awhile It’s ironic that the demographic for this song probably mocks emo kids. As whiny and irritating as emo is, even the most maudlin Dashboard Confessional track doesn’t approach the sheer lameness of Staind. Whining is only part of the problem; the lyrics are grammatically incoherent. Consider: “It’s been awhile since I could stand on my own two feet again.” “Since I could stand on my own two feet” makes sense. But “again?” What tense is this supposed to be? The song is awful enough without such egregious lyrical sloppiness.
1. Kansas – Carry On Wayward Son Modern songwriters can only dream of achieving the tragicomic heights of this song. Listening to it, one can only marvel at the collective stupidity of the record-buying public for embracing this monstrosity. Perhaps it was an elaborate inside joke, people pretending to like Kansas ironically. Maybe they bought Leftoverture solely to encourage Kansas to create more hilariously bad songs. Perhaps its enduring classic rock airplay is due to the line “Though my mind could think I still was a madman” retaining its unintentional comedic gold after all these years. Whatever its popularity’s source, let’s view it as a beautiful tragedy, like a developmentally challenged child tumbling off a tricycle into the La Brea Tar Pits.
If you have suggestions for bands ripe for mockery, email me at [email protected]. And to the Def Leppard fan who emailed: for the love of all that is holy, seek professional help.
– Dr. David Thorpe (@Arr)
