No. 153 - Tool’s “Sober” Changed My Life

On a camping trip on Vancouver Island in 1996, Ira Pelletier found his music

Aug 07, 2026

This Song Changed My Life is an independent music publication featuring weekly essays from people all around the world about the songs that mean the most to them. Created (and illustrated) by Grace Lilly.

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• 4 min read •

A camping trip. I was the bass player, Adam was the drummer, Mike was rhythm guitar, Cal was… well Cal. Our lead guitarist, Chris, he couldn’t make it. Probably something to do with his overprotective parents and the fact that he got us in trouble on our last trip. Now that’s a good story, but one for another time.

Mike and I were kind of the musical leaders of the group. We met on the swings in elementary school, and immediately connected over our mutual love of DJ Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince. We started our rap band MC Master Mike and DJ I.R.A. a few weeks later, but not before we met Chris on the playground a day or so after the swings.

Fast forward to high school, and grunge was the way. We met Adam, and the band “Gone” had its drummer. Chris took guitar lessons and would learn songs, then come back and teach them to us. My dad had some Gordon Lightfoot songbooks, some traditional folk songbooks, and a ’60s pop songbook. He bought my brother and me a radio hits book. I don’t remember what years it covered, but it had “Chattahoochee” by Alan Jackson and “Creep” by Radiohead, so it wasn’t showing any discrimination between genres. We would jam on anything we could get our hands on because our taste wasn’t fully formed yet.

Ira, with long hair and a smile, sits on a brown couch while talking on a corded phone and operating a multitrack cassette recorder. — Ira and his Yamaha MT400 multitrack cassette recorder in the ’90s

So, the trip. It was summer holidays. We loaded our acoustic guitars and food, and headed off to the next town over. Adam’s cousin Alecia had come to the island that summer to visit family and get a taste for Vancouver Island life, and had been hanging out with us a bunch. She stayed between Adam’s house and her aunt and uncle’s house in Parksville where we were camping. She came over to the campsite and told us she wanted us to meet her aunt and uncle because they were really cool. So the plan the next day was to walk across town to their place and meet them.

She wasn’t wrong, they were super cool. In their early 20s. I can’t remember what he did for work, but she owned a swimsuit store, and they had a nice house. Different than any of our parents’ houses. Cool, not grown up and boring.

We sat awkwardly in the living room waiting for them to bring us the drinks they offered. “Why don’t you guys put on some music,” he shouted from the kitchen. “Pick anything you want!”

“Uh, okay.” Mike and I looked at each other. We sorted through the tower of CDs looking for something interesting. We didn’t recognize much. I pulled one CD that had an interesting title. Opiate. I didn’t know what that meant. “Tool.” I only knew that as a word to call my friends when they were being dumb. We put it on.

Slow, thumping, chugging guitars, a guy singing about dreaming, starts and stops and shots. It was confusing, and I wasn’t sure if I liked it. I wasn’t sure if I didn’t. Mike and I looked at each other. What is this?

A young Ira thrashes his long hair while playing bass guitar in a Pearl Jam t-shirt. — Ira playing bass

The uncle came out of the kitchen. “Oh yeah, this one’s okay,” he said, “but here’s the really good one.” He pulled a CD from the tower. The cover was black with a red… what is that, a rib cage or something?

The first song came on. The rhythms in the guitar and the energy in his voice. The drums... A thought, I think I’ve found my music. This is all unreal. Undivided attention. I’m listening as I write this and getting shivers again.

Song three on the record. “Sober.” That crunchy thumping bass and the floating guitar over the top when the drums come in. Then… that riff. I was transfixed. This might be the greatest thing I have ever heard. It didn’t sound like anything else. It’s metal but it’s not. It’s so much more. The way that the guitar floats over everything. The tone in this guy’s voice. It’s so dark, and it’s so heavy. Not metal heavy, but heavy in the chest, heavy in the heart.

Everything but the drums drops out.

Just little hi-hats and cymbal bells as the bass drones on.

I am just a worthless liar
I am just an imbecile
I will only complicate you
Trust in me and fall as well
I will find a center in you

Bass starts to build…

I will chew it up and leave

Forward chugging bass, snare hits on the drums, chugging guitar…

Trust me

Building…

Trust me

Louder…

Trust me

Two shots… guitar screams!!!

A man yelling, singing…

Why can’t we not be sober?

My musical taste had been changed forever. What I wanted from music was that. The next week I went out and bought the CD and listened to it on repeat for a month straight. In my Discman on the walk to school, in my bedroom, on the stereo in the living room as loud as it could go (when my parents weren’t home of course), and in my head in class.

A month after I had first heard Tool, I walked into Sam the Record Man and saw the cardboard cutout by the counter announcing their new album, Aenima. I was ready for it.

All through my musical life from that point on — jazz school, 12 years of hard bluegrass, modular synthesizer experiments — Tool was always in the rotation. Between Bill Monroe and Miles Davis, I’d listen to Maynard and the boys playing in 7/8 singing about spiritual awakening through uhh… well, if you know you know. I’ve seen them twice. Once on the Lateralus tour and most recently during their Fear Inoculum tour. They continue to put out amazing albums, and I’ll never stop listening to them no matter what musical side quest I’m on.

But nothing has ever compared to the first time I heard “Sober.” ◆