“Arrghh!”
That was my immediate response when I found out that A Perfect Circle had banned the use of cell phones during their November 2017 show I’d bought tickets for. The concert, a stop at the venerable Fox Theater in Detroit, was one of a couple dozen to designed the whet the appetites of fans anxiously awaiting Eat The Elephant, the band’s first full length release in over fourteen years.
It wouldn’t be the first time that I’d faced such digital censorship. I’d had my cell phone banished to my pocket, or worse a Yondr pouch, twice before. Once at the Funny Or Die comedy tour when a still skittish Dave Chappelle had threatened expulsion to anyone that dare peek-a-screen during his set and the other was during Chris Rock’s last stand-up tour (which can be seen streaming on Netflix under the title of Tamborine).
But those were comedy shows.
Most comedians’ bread gets buttered when the punchline sneaks up on their audience from out of left field, subverting expectations forged by a lead-in that often seems casually delivered but in reality had been painstakingly crafted to deliver maximum yuks. It works best when the people can’t see what’s coming. It makes sense that a comic may try to protect the sanctity of the punchline with their lives and how video streaming services might terrify them. I think back to March of this year when I took in an Anthony Jeselnik show and wonder how neutered the experience would have been had I heard any of the jokes ahead of time. His twisted, disgusting, hilarious and downright wrong musings might’ve still entertained, but not as much. Lines without punch, if you will.
But this was a rock show. I find that with music, repetition breeds familiarity, and familiarity often breeds appreciation. The power of a great solo or a virtuoso vocal delivery isn’t diminished by repeat exposure (within reason), it’s enhanced. So, what can be lost by letting your fans sneak a view of last week’s show in Omaha?
But what if they were trying to keep amateur video of their show’s production and stage design off the internet, you ask?
Well, obviously you don’t know A Perfect Circle. The band, for the uninitiated, was formed in 1999 and has had two constants throughout countless lineup changes: Guitarist and principle songwriter Billy Howerdel and singer Maynard James Keenan (of Tool fame) who’s also principle lyricist. Howerdel, though a wonderful songwriter and exemplary musician, can be a little vanilla on stage and Keenan can usually be found in deep shadow somewhere in the back. He could perform the show remotely with a stand-in there solely to mimic his odd, squat-poses he’s prone to do, and the show would hardly miss a beat. The point is- the focus is not their stage show.
It is the music.
Which brings us back to the cell phone ban. At first I thought it was some type of “get off my lawn” moment by obstinate artists slipping through an ever-widening generation gap. But a spin through Eat The Elephant proves me dead wrong. It was more a reflection of Keenan’s disillusionment with modern society and a call-to-arms in the fight for our humanity.
A bit hyperbolic, I admit, for a rock album and also a ambitious task. The album’s title alludes to this (how do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time, of course) although I’m sure some might take it as a slight to a certain pachyderm-mascotted political party.
So, over twelve tracks we gnaw through the aspects our culture that really stick in Keenan’s craw (which are many. Picture Bill Hicks airing his grievances after a particularly disappointing Festivus dinner). The opener and title track, a piano and drum rolled chugger gets us initiated to how “ominous and daunting” an assignment this will be, but commands that we “take a stab” nonetheless.
Keenan’s pointed blade is directed at our digital culture in track two, “Disillusioned“, the highlight of the record, IMO. The idea that we need to look away from our screens every now and then is not some revelation. So it is not that he challenges us to “put the silicone obsession down” and to “take a look around” that is profound, it’s how he says it. This is no holier-than-thou haranguing. This is an impassioned plea to re-connect to our brothers and sisters on a basic level. There is a gentle quiver in his voice over the sparse piano delivery. His words float in from some ethereal plane as the quiet builds almost to a point of unease, forcing us to do as he asks, to take in our surround and live in the now. It’s thought provoking and it’s beautiful. This from a man who once wrote a song called “Stinkfist.”
That isn’t to say that the album is all touchy-feely. Keenan retains his edge on tracks like “The Contrarian“, where he warns/admonishes those who are easily bamboozled by “velvet” tongued “magicians” (with an acidic ‘ma-Jish-ee-un’ pronunciation). When he croons disappointedly “Hello, he lied,” you can picture him, Biff-like knuckling up our heads demanding that we “THINK!”
The next two tracks focus on celebrity culture, albeit in different manners. First on “The Doomed” Keenan’s words lament our unhealthy obsession with the famous (“the fornicates…the rich…the envious) and how the “meek”, “the merciful” and “the pure of heart” are all done for. Immediately afterwords, though, on “So Long, And Thanks For All The Fish” he uses a slew of 2016 celebrity deaths (Bowie, Carrie Fischer, Prince) as a reminder of the impermanence of life and bemoans our preoccupation with trivialities, a theme he once utilized in his other band when he chastized L.A. culture and wished for the day when a major earthquake might dump the whole city into the ocean. Heady stuff, but it’s juxtaposed with some of APC’s more upbeat and uptempo music to date.
“TalkTalk” takes aim at keyboard-empathizers. You know the type. Moments after a tragedy, they log on to their TwitGramBook account and offer their empty and meaningless thoughts and prayers before quickly going back to whatever it was they were doing before. In “TalkTalk” he lambastes them for their inaction, stating that while they deliberate, “bodies accumulate” and if all they have to bring to the table is a couple key clicks, to get the f*ck out of his way.
The second half of the record strays a bit thematically but that doesn’t mean it’s without merit. “By And Down The River” will appease those angling for somewhere for Howerdel to shine, as it’s easily the most guitar heavy track on the record. The fact that it’s a re-imagining of the band’s “By And Down” (released back in 2013 on their Three Sixty compilation) makes it a bit of a redundancy, though. The forgettable “Delicious” comes next with “DLB” (a slight and moody instrumental that’s best considered an intro the subsequent “Hourglass“) following behind.
The record finishes strong with the gorgeous “Feathers“. Containing lyrics referencing borders and walls, the song is bound to bring to mind the controversy about our current immigration policy but Keenan’s words are vague enough that it could just as easily be an ode to Forrest Gump. It’s resplendent, either way.
It all comes back around with the bouncy electronica of “Get The Lead Out.” It’s at this point that Keenan, having given us his list of wrongs in the world, chides us for our inaction. It’s a proverbial boot in the ass. In his eyes, the time for “chit chat” is over, so “buckle up, buttercup” and get moving and after twelve tracks, you can’t help but agree.
The band has announced a fall tour of the U.S. and I will be in attendance when they stop at Detroit’s Masonic Temple, a majestic and mysterious venue that fits the band’s ethos at this point in their career. And if they institute another cell phone ban (UPDATE-they have), my reaction will not be “Arrghh!”
I will sit back amongst a sea of the converted, focused on the communal experience of live music and breathe out a relaxed “Ahhh.”