"We're more into expressing ourselves than making radio hits"
About this Quote
Adam Jones, guitarist of Tool, draws a line between artistic exploration and the commercial formulas that dominate mainstream playlists. The phrase signals a deliberate refusal to shape songs for radio formats, with their tight time limits, repetitive hooks, and verse-chorus predictability. Tool’s catalog embodies that stance: sprawling track lengths, labyrinthine structures, odd time signatures, and thematic continuity that rewards patient, immersive listening rather than quick, disposable consumption.
The context is a band that built a massive following while rarely courting the conventional gateways to fame. Even their most played tracks, like Schism, challenge radio expectations with off-kilter rhythms and a runtime far beyond three minutes. Jones’s visual artistry, from stop-motion videos to stage design, reinforces the same ethos. The music and the imagery form a whole that resists excerpting; the album matters as a complete experience. Expressing themselves, in this sense, is not just emotive catharsis but a commitment to craft, to sonic architecture, to ideas that take time to unfold.
There is also an implicit critique of the industry’s pressures. Radio hit implies a shorthand for market-tested choices, compressed dynamics, and algorithm-friendly hooks. Jones points to a different economy of attention, where authenticity and experimentation can be a better compass than chart positions. That does not mean disdain for listeners; it trusts them. Tool’s long gestation periods between albums, the density of their arrangements, and the refusal to explain every lyric invite the audience to meet the band halfway.
The statement doubles as a manifesto for artists who suspect that chasing trends erodes the soul of the work. It argues that longevity and resonance come from following an inner imperative, even when it complicates marketing. In a culture of instant hooks, the slow-build, deep-listen approach is a kind of resistance, and Tool’s success suggests it can also be its own reward.
The context is a band that built a massive following while rarely courting the conventional gateways to fame. Even their most played tracks, like Schism, challenge radio expectations with off-kilter rhythms and a runtime far beyond three minutes. Jones’s visual artistry, from stop-motion videos to stage design, reinforces the same ethos. The music and the imagery form a whole that resists excerpting; the album matters as a complete experience. Expressing themselves, in this sense, is not just emotive catharsis but a commitment to craft, to sonic architecture, to ideas that take time to unfold.
There is also an implicit critique of the industry’s pressures. Radio hit implies a shorthand for market-tested choices, compressed dynamics, and algorithm-friendly hooks. Jones points to a different economy of attention, where authenticity and experimentation can be a better compass than chart positions. That does not mean disdain for listeners; it trusts them. Tool’s long gestation periods between albums, the density of their arrangements, and the refusal to explain every lyric invite the audience to meet the band halfway.
The statement doubles as a manifesto for artists who suspect that chasing trends erodes the soul of the work. It argues that longevity and resonance come from following an inner imperative, even when it complicates marketing. In a culture of instant hooks, the slow-build, deep-listen approach is a kind of resistance, and Tool’s success suggests it can also be its own reward.
Quote Details
| Topic | Music |
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