How the hell has a band as complex and as unconformist as Tool become a mainstream affair? Usually, when an act reaches a point where it is selling out arenas and headlining festivals, it has had to forego a chunk of its authenticity and individuality to do so. This is not the case with Tool. There has been no candlestine deals with the devil using the currency of souls. This evening in Manchester they exhibit the same level of authenticity that they had when they formed 34 years ago. They have not changed or budged in their eccentric uniqueness, yet fame, fortune and adulation have sought them out without them having to move an inch.

Everything this evening is at a distinct right angle to how things are usually set out. Convention is out of the window, we are playing by Tool’s rules. This is true of Merch Prices (steep but cheaper than the usual arena fayre), stage set up, anti-photography dictates and even the choice of support act. You see this is not a case of a bunch of cash-rich newbies wedded to a high-profile tour with the help of a large dowry. Night Verses are here because they have caught the eye of the headliner and come with their prestigious commendation. They also musically fit beautifully, providing an indulgent aperitif before the main course.

They trade in an angular and rhythmically complex variant of post-rock. The fact that they are a trio and that there are smatterings of the avant-garde means that Primus comes to mind at numerous intervals. However, there is enough individuality on offer to stop them from feeling like a derivative version of the Les Claypool led legends. The fact that there are only three of them does not deter them from making as much interconnected noise as possible. We get seven tracks and between them, they contain more ideas and experimental detours than most bands accomplish in their lifetime.

An audience that is ready to indulge in an evening of polyrhythmic opulence, lap them up and it is quite evident that Nick, Reilly and Aric can't quite believe the reception they are being afforded. They perform in a neat row, with the aforementioned Aric leaping out of his drum stool with alarming frequency. Fourth album “Every Sound has a Colour in the Valley of Night” has been pricking interest since its full version emerged in March and tonight, they prove that they are very much worth all the fuss they are being given.

Tool are not just astounding this evening, they are a tapestry of interweaving astonishing components that interlock together to create an experience that hours later still dances upon the retina. At the centre of their tempestuous universe is Danny Carey. His drum kit is continually bathed in a perpetual spotlight, even when his fellow musicians are plunged into darkness. It is also obvious that his rhythmic virtuosity leads everything that Tool does. We are used to the drummer being the backbone of a band's endeavours, but here Danny is the tentpole on which everything else is wrapped around. His complex crescendoing re-occurring patterns drive each track forward. Rather than take the rearguard, he is there metrically moving the 11 songs aired through their different phases.

He and bassist Justin Chancellor feel like the main protagonists in the band, with Adam Jones and Maynard Keenan operating as a supporting cast. But they don't operate in a way that we expect a rhythm section to do so. At many junctures, it feels that they are operating in two parallel but interconnected universes. Spewing forth a cacophony of musicality that is distinctly different yet still seems to come together to create a coherent whole.

The contributions from Adam Jones’ guitar are crucial but also subdued. There is nothing as conventional as soloing or showboating. Instead, his interludes are minimalist but absolutely essential. His guitar never overshadows the other two musicians, instead it miraculously manages to enhance their standing, weaving between them like some mystic interconnecting mist. 

And then there is Maynard. An astonishing presence that stays resolutely in the shadows. He exclusively operates on his own raised platform that curves around Danny’s drum kit. He paces like a caged tiger removed from the spotlight but still hungry for attention. Over two hours and 10 minutes he never stays still, continually bouncing on his feet like a jogger waiting at a crossing. His removal from the main thoroughfare just re-emphasises the feeling that this is a joint affair, with each member sharing equal billing.

He speaks to us only twice and both times he goads with his characteristic deadpan rhetoric. When the cheers do not meet his approval, he asks whether we are depressed and then compares a Manchester crowd to Nottingham. He wields the same level of faux cynicism later in the evening, asking Brit Justin what is wrong with his people and this time claiming that we may have reached the Scouser level. He also reiterates the band's shared desire that we keep our phones in our pockets and join them on the journey as opposed to passively trying to capture it on film. In the most poignant comment of the evening, he states that if we can't live without our devices for two hours then there must be something seriously wrong with us. 

The thing about a Tool show is that you do not need the distractions of TikTok or Candy Crush because there is so much to feast your eyes on. The projection screens tower over the band providing an imposing presence that would give even the largest IMAX screen an inferiority complex. The visuals are hypnotically compulsive, swirling in an ever-changing kaleidoscope of inconsequential shapes and constantly morphing textures. The light show encapsulates the entire arena, with lasers dancing from one end to the other. The ever-changing green glow reaches out far beyond the stage, making us all feel like we are part of the show as opposed to being passive observers.

As always, we get a set that is different to what was on offer yesterday evening in Birmingham and will be different to what our compatriots get in London on Monday.  “Fear Inoculum” may well be fast approaching its fifth birthday, but these dates are still resolutely in place to promote it and it makes up almost half of the set. Around it, we get visits to all four of their long players and a distinctly rare outing for ‘Sweat’ from their inaugural EP. 

The appearance of every track is greeted with reverential adoration. It is mind-blowing that songs this multifarious and convoluted could have wormed their way into the collective consciousness, but the reverential audience scream along to ‘The Grudge’ and ‘Rosetta Stoned’ like they were ditties that they were taught at nursery school.

Before they embark on final number ‘Ænema’, Maynard states we have been so good that they will allow us to unleash our phones and film it. Like a horde of alcoholics who have been given keys to the brewery we hungrily empty our pockets and the arena is instantaneously based in a sea of individual neon lights as we are emotionally reunited with our devices. 

Tool live is an experience unlike anything else. It is not just a concert; it is an immersive installation designed to titillate every one of your senses. They have never compromised and instead, they have brought us all into a bright future where music is not wallpaper or background noise. They have stuck to their guns and resolutely created a world where music operates as a life-affirming opiate capable of taking even the most sober and pious person on a psychedelic journey. An astonishing evening provided by an astonishing band.