Hosts: Neil & Chris

Neil and Chris wrap up their dual-Maynard trilogy with Tool's April 1993 debut, a record that arrived in the shadow of grunge and nu-metal but carved out its own menacing, atmospheric space. Produced by the legendary Sylvia Massey, Undertow is bone-dry, tightly miked, and built on organic dynamics instead of compression, giving it a raw, live feel that stands apart from the thick, polished records of its era. The hosts dig into Danny Carey's polyrhythmic mastery, Adam Jones' stop-motion video wizardry, and Maynard's tightly controlled vocals, all layered over soundscapes that feel more like movements than traditional rock songs.

Along the way, Neil reveals his obsession with warm worms (metre-long hot water bottles, naturally), the hosts debate whether Tool fans qualify as a cult, and Chris laminates his son's homework at the last possible second. They also explore how a proggy, atmospheric debut somehow broke through on the Lollapalooza circuit, turning Tool into a phenomenon that only grew with each release. From piano destruction and Henry Rollins cameos to censored rib-cage artwork and the mysteries of mille-feuille, this episode flows like the record itself: unpredictable, immersive, and impossible to turn off.

Sober launched the band with its stop-motion video and hypnotic groove, becoming the breakout single that made Tool unavoidable on MTV. Prison Sex faced censorship but revealed the band's willingness to tackle dark, uncomfortable themes head-on. The hosts discuss the album's dry, punchy production, which contrasts sharply with the reverb-heavy, compressed records of the era. Undertow doesn't smash you in the face, it flows, ebbs, and pulls you into its tight, menacing world. The guitars are fuzzy but controlled, the vocals are miked close without loads of effects, and the time signatures shift without feeling jarring. It's proggy without being widdly-widdly, heavy without being djent, and atmospheric without drowning in layers.

Undertow proves that meticulous, atmospheric prog-metal could break through in 1993 without sounding like anything else on the radio. While Metallica headed into Load/Reload territory and grunge dominated the charts, Tool arrived with bone-dry precision, organic dynamics, and a refusal to follow trends. The album's live, uncompressed production lets it breathe in ways compressed records can't, rewarding listeners who turn the volume up and let it envelop them. It's the kind of debut that doesn't feel like a debut, packed with the confidence and cohesion of a band that had been refining their sound for years.

Perfect for: Sylvia Massey disciples, dynamic range defenders, Danny Carey drum nerds, warm worm enthusiasts, lamination evangelists, mille-feuille scholars, Tool cult members (sorry, fans), proggy-without-widdly-widdly appreciators, 1993 revisionist historians, Henry Rollins spoken-word completists, rib-cage censorship historians, Lollapalooza second-stage legends, stopmotion video obsessives, dry production purists, live-feel studio advocates, Edinburgh Mile survivors, religion-agnostic philosophers, cold-feet sufferers, and anyone who thinks pianos deserve to be destroyed with shotguns in the name of art.