IN REVIEW: Baroness - "Purple"
Happily, Purple sees Baroness improve on what they were doing on Yellow/Green in almost every way. It avoids potential fatigue by streamlining the record to eight songs proper and a short instrumental, cutting the running time by over a half hour and thereby leaving less room for filler (like it or not, Yellow/Green did have its share).
What Purple's A-side provides is a staggering reintroduction, a group playing with force and purpose; John Baizley and Peter Adams' performances are confident and full of life. That's no coincidence, as this is the first Baroness album since the nasty bus crash that threatened to end the band and indeed did require the rhythm section to stop playing due to fractured vertebrae. Baizley and Adams slowly healed their wounds, and Purple is the sound of them working through the grief, frustration and eventual affirmation of life in the wake of such a traumatic event.
So, again, about that A-side; the stunning Morningstar opens with a monstrous, meaty riff that rivals Mastodon's Blood and Thunder before exploding in harmony, while Shock Me uses keyboards as a distraction before the song proper comes thundering in. Together, they're an astounding start to a record; the chugging, propulsive Try To Disappear and the tense, fiery Kerosene combine with them (and the short, odd instrumental Fugue) to create the most assured and rewarding set of songs ever to grace one side of a Baroness record.
The latter half can't possibly match it, but it comes close; it begins with Chlorine & Wine, an adventurous rocker that draws out more of Baroness' classic rock influences and sees the band at their most theatrical. The Iron Bell ups the tempo and ends up around the intersection of Foo Fighters Avenue and Iron Maiden Boulevard. Desperation Burns, meanwhile, brings the riffs and another impassioned performance but ends up the least great song on an album full of great songs. Then, just as Eula brought Yellow's journey to a cathartic, harrowing end, If I Have To Wake Up punctuates Purple with heartbreaking reflection. The song's build in intensity is slow and methodical, the majestic payoff inching ever closer over the opening four minutes until it all hits.
On paper, then, this is Baroness' best album, a striking and thrilling batch of songs that pushes them forward while clawing back some of the heaviness of their earlier records. It's an intense record that doesn't overstay its welcome or leave listeners unsatisfied, a near perfect performance by one of my favourite bands.
...but, wait.
You might have gotten to this point and wondered why all the vowels above were in bold font. Maybe you're angry with me because that made the review harder to read. Maybe you're just mildly annoyed because you could read it fine, but something felt off about the whole thing. Maybe you didn't give a shit, and having the bold letters didn't affect your enjoyment of the words in the least. Whatever the case, it was the most effective way I could think of to convey how I feel about the production of Purple.
I set myself up for a disappointment as soon as I learned that Baroness were working with Dave Fridmann on this record, and I really hate to keep harping on the guy but he's consistently being hired to work with bands that I like and proceeding to sabotage the sound of their records. Listening to Purple, it seems the biggest takeaway Baroness had in mind is that Sebastian Thompson is their new drummer and that he plays the shit out of the drums. He's a great drummer and his performances are top notch, but every kick, fill and snare roll is loud and proud here, mixed in the red and lunging out of the speakers with no regard for the other instruments. They're distorted and unnatural sounding in this mix, and yet we're told to accept it because this is the producer they chose and this is what he brings to the table.
Well, I don't accept it. John Baizley's artwork is beautiful as ever, but would he still be happy with the finished album pressing if someone had jacked up the contrast and put some ugly Instagram filters on it before sending it off to the printers? I doubt it. If you order a burger with ketchup and mustard and it's served to you with twice as much mustard as you're used to getting, will you happily consume it knowing that there's beef there but you can't taste it for the overpowering amount of mustard? Something tells me you're sending it back to the kitchen.
Look, I understand that this has become an accepted practice in music. I've bitched and moaned and complained about it so often that I'm close to just giving up. I just can't help but get exasperated when I read a pile of glowing reviews for this record that skate around its production like not being satisfied with the quality of the sound is a problem that only I have. That's not right, and you shouldn't be ignoring it either. We're being given an inferior product and told that it's perfectly fine. When Cage the Elephant (a band whose brickwalled production on Melophobia was so pronounced and egregious that I went off on a profanity-laced tirade) releases a record on the same day as Purple that has more audible nuance and dynamic range, there's a real problem here.
What makes this so hard to swallow is the fact that this is indeed Baroness' best batch of songs yet. By rights, it should be seen as their best album, and should have been competing for Album of the Year honours. I don't enjoy lashing out, and I really wish I didn't have to because the band needn't bear the full responsibility for the finished product. However, whether at the urging of their peers, their producer and/or popular opinion of fans, they knowingly put this record out as a product worthy of our time and money so I can't absolve them of wrongdoing. Still, though, Purple is aptly titled; it most definitely leaves a bruise because it transformed from one of the year's most anticipated records to one of the most disappointing.
December 18, 2015 • Abraxan Hymns
Highlights Shock Me • Try To Disappear • Chlorine & Wine
Comments
Post a Comment