Ian Paice is behind the drums, and from the beginning proves to be the absolute perfect drummer for this group. Why is that, you may ask? It is because he has the technical skills and creativity to keep up with the rest of the group and follow the non-trivial rhythms that come with Blackmore and Lord solos, but also has the restraint to keep his drumming as the support of the band and to not attempt to dominate the sound (except, of course, for the occasional drum solo, sigh). In other words, none of this nonstop "Me Bonzo! Me see drum! Bonzo smash!" stuff that gets on my nerves with Led Zeppelin. But I digress. Rounding out the group are bassist Nick Simper, who is ok but largely indistinguishable, and Rod Evans, the lead singer, who sure does a good croon when the songs finally come around to vocal parts.

So what do all these parts add up to? They add up, in my opinion, to a band that's both quite impressive and quite average all at once. On the positive side, this band can play just fine - not only do the band members have solid technical skills, they sound and seem confident in their abilities to pull off their styles, not too creative amalgamations of other sources they may sometimes be, with a good understanding of what the hell it is they're doing, as well as with a nice amount of flair. On the minus side, both the originals and covers often feel a bit too much like exercises in style and technique; the originals sound like the band thought that having a song in a "poppy style" or "rock style" is enough, and the covers sound like the band just wanted to show off the cool things they could do with other people's tracks. This isn't to say the covers are necessarily bad exercises, of course - their cover of Hush by some guy named Joe South is freaking great, a nice upbeat pop song turned into a cross between a nice upbeat pop song and a trippy-as-hell anthem with all sorts of cool keyboard sounds and guitar wails and all those other things that make Purple Purple. Their cover of Cream's I'm So Glad is also quite enjoyable, even though it requires sitting through a lengthy Lord-driven introduction, which isn't awful but doesn't hold my attention long beyond a minute or so. The song itself kinda rules, though, if only because it's so faithful to the feel and vibe of the original, even though it doesn't sound like a carbon copy at all.

The other two covers are a little worse, though. Help!, by John Lennon (of course), gets a pleasant-but-not-really-necessary intro and outro (consisting of the band slowly puttering on a quiet guitar theme), while the actual song is turned into a slooooooooow ballad climaxed by (of course) Jon and Ritchie each getting a chance at an anthemic solo. It's not bad, but six minutes is a bit much for such a thing, in my opinion. A bit much would be an understatement for the closing Hey Joe, though, which starts off with a two-minute+ introduction that works off the rhythm of Ravel's Bolero (with all sorts of usual organ and guitar puttering - not that it's bad, just a bit aimless), before finally getting into the song, done at a slooooooow tempo as a soul ballad. Except for the parts that work off the themes of the introduction, of course. In other words, it takes 7:29 to get through freakin' Hey Joe.

As for the originals, well, they're ok in their own way. And the Address is an alright opener, an instrumental that opens with a minute of organ effects before turning into acres of solos based around an occasional riff and subsequent groove. Fortunately, the riff is ok, and the solos are as entertaining as anything else on the record, so while this "song" is a bit too self-indulgent wanky, it's at least a decently done self-indulgent wanky. Mandrake Root is a straightup ripoff of Foxy Lady, but a disturbingly enjoyable ripoff nontheless. And hey, the surf-rocker Love Help Me has some more great guitar wailing to go with the standard surf elements. On the other hand, One More Rainy Day is too sappy and flacid for my tastes, especially in the vocal parts, and definitely shows that the band didn't really know what it was doing in "conventional" songwriting.

For all that, I wouldn't want to give this less than a low 7. For all the ripoffs and unrestrained soloing, there's nevertheless a great deal of enthusiasm coming out of this album, and competent enthusiasm at that, that's quite infectious to yours truly. They kinda remind me, at this point, of the very first incarnation of Yes that would come into being a year later, albeit with their songwriting skills a little less developed, and that can't help but make me smile. At least a bit. Don't go running out to get this, but if you've filled up on Mk. II and want more Purple, this is a good place to turn.

The rest of it, though, just sounds like the first album gone slightly sour, only forgetting to rock. Except for the good instrumental Wring that Neck, based around a nice organ riff, there isn't a single piece here that can keep my mind from wandering more than, say, 50% of the time of the given track. Lessee, we have a Neil Diamond cover, Kentucky Woman, which is ... ok. We have an extremely mediocre Beatles cover, We Can Work it Out, preceded by an introduction that sounds to me (probably because I just finished reviewing them previous to this album) like Jon had decided that keyboard parts that would sound like the blueprint for the more mediocre Van Der Graaf Generator organ breaks would be a good idea. It also shows Paice, in a rare lapse of judgement, trying to make his drum parts more "profound" by making them as loud and echoey as possible. Meh.

Lessee, then there's Shield, which starts off with a nice bassline, decent minimalist guitar, a decent vocal melody ... and just gets insanely tedious over six minutes. Then there's Anthem, which is actually quite pleasant, even though it's dripping with schmaltz (and since it's over six minutes, naturally, this becomes a problem, which isn't really remedied by the sudden appearance of a string section in the middle). At least it has a pretty guitar solo, one of very few on the album. And finally, there's the band's cover of River Deep, Mountain High (by whom, I have no clue), which, excluding yet another silly, tedious, long organ-based introduction, is ... ok. Not memorable at all (except for the chorus), but pleasant in the slow parts and amusing in the fast parts.

You know, looking back at this review, I'm amazed that I give it as high a rating as I do - some reviewers absolutely trash the hell out of this album, and I can definitely see where they're coming from. Still, I don't outright hate anything on this album, except the disgraceful Beatles cover, and besides, the total hilarious naivety of the band in regards to what actually consists "good" music is at least somewhat charming. At the same time, it's still a rather tepid massacre of good taste, so I can't really put it in the "so awful it's great" category, like I do with ELP's Pictures at an Exhibition. If you see it in a cutout bin, consider it, but otherwise, don't bother.

The opening Chasing Shadows, for instance, combines a very crisp, punchy pop song with an incredible percussion rhythm, the first real sign that Paice had developed a style of his own (as opposed to being a really good imitator of Mitch Mitchell). I'd like a little more Ritchie here, who's basically shoved into the background except for one nice solo, but what's here is fine, and Lord's organ solos show that he'd figured out how to make his endless solos go somewhere. Besides, Rod Evans sounds more convincing as a "rocker" on this track than he had on any part of the first two albums, so that's definitely something.

Blind is a pop ballad doesn't entertain that much (except for the harpsichord throughout - hey, if a good melody was attached, it could pass for Kinks! Well, maybe not), but the cover of the Donovan track Lalena is plenty entertaining, thanks to Evans' delivery. Oh sure, the lyrics have some lousy rhymes, but Evans makes the track emotional despite them almost by his lonesome; sure, the soft melody and organ solo help, too, yet it's definitely Rod's show here. No significant Ritchie dose, but I only notice that after the fact, as I'm too busy enjoying the track when it's on.

Up next is the traditional instrumental-leading-to-a-pop-song track, this time breaking the pattern by doing an original instead of a cover for the track. It also somewhat breaks the pattern by making the instrumental section really interesting - what the hell are these backwards cymbal noises (I think that's what it is, correct me if I'm wrong) doing back in 1969?? Add in a great fuzzy bass riff, some eerie organ noises and a quiet, menacing guitar part (before ending in a really whacky way), and you have something a hundred times as interesting as the corresponding instrumentals on the last two albums. The main song, The Painter, then manages to rock like a mother in parts, with a fine groove augmented by (you guessed it) great guitar and organ solos that preview the entertaining work of Mk. II well, albeit at about half-speed.

And then ... more rock! Why Didn't Rosemary? is a fine fine piece of blues rock, a practically textbook example of how to make generic mid-tempo rock entertaining. Great guitar solos (Ritchie was getting ready to explode, you see)? Check. Great singing? Check. Great organ? Check. Great drum groove? Check. Bird Has Flown is a bit weaker to my ears, since I don't dig Evans' singing here as much as before, but it's definitely worth it if only for the background wah-wah.

Finally, there's April, the big classical-meets-rock suite. Well, sorta - it's more a band-plays-moody-theme/leaves/orchestra-plays-classical-theme/leaves/band-comes-in-and-rocks suite. The ending "rock" part is a bit too tepid for my tastes (that is, it ostensibly "rocks out," but I can definitely agree with the assessment of some that there's not enough real fire to be found), but the initial theme that the band plays is extremely interesting - that is, if you're into slow, moody electric guitar notes over a somewhat martial acoustic-guitar+organ theme. The choir is a bit of a tacky touch, if you ask me, but whatever. The orchestra section is ok, too.

So that's the end of Deep Purple Mk. 1 - very, very good in some places, no worse than ok in others. Evans and Simper got fired sometime after this album was released, which is probably a good thing (considering that the "classic" Purple albums would hardly be possible with them in the lineup), but it should definitely not be said that they exited after a poor album. Unless, of course, you reeeeeally crave headbanging, in which case you should probably stay away for a while.

The Concerto itself, which makes up the last two thirds of the album, is ridiculous. The "classical" portions are mediocre movie soundtrack quality at best; I guess the same thing could be said about the orchestrations on Days of Future Passed, an album I love, but those orchestrations existed to augment the moods of the actual songs and provide segues. The orchestrations here are meant to be treated as crucial portions of large-scale composition, and they're just not interesting enough to work that way. Parts go loud, parts go soft, and above all parts go nowhere. And the portions where the band joins in, gah ... There's an ok song buried inside the second movement (though the thought of Ian Gillan being forced to sing pretentious, meaningless prog lyrics is one I find bothersome; aren't lyrics like this anathema to Ian's purpose of existence?), but the rest is a bunch of alarmingly uninteresting group jamming interspersed with what sounds like Blackmore playing warmups. No thanks.

Oh, and did I mention that the central feature of the third movement is a drum solo? Did I also mention that the "encore" involves the band and orchestra going through the section with the drum solo a second time? Sheesh ...

The thing that redeems this album, at least slightly, is that the expanded version includes the band's opening set, sans orchestra, which is actually pretty decent. The opening performance of Hush is flat out great, with Gillan putting more gusto into his vocals than Evans did, and the band is super tight. Wring that Neck and Child in Time aren't done at their very best, as the band doesn't yet have the telepathic chemistry that would make the band so amazing within a couple of years, but they're decent enough, at least if your wank-tolerance is at a reasonable level.

Still, that's not a ringing endorsement, is it. That 4 is awfully close a 3, and should be regarded accordingly. At least the band didn't make this sort of thing its primary focus in the future ...

The greatest improvement for the band from the previous studio albums, of course, comes from picking up Gillan to sing. As alluded to in the band introduction, Gillan, in his prime, was one of the greatest vocalists in all of rock music, and certainly at or near the top among all heavy metal singers ever. Not only did he have a great "normal" voice, a solid tenor with ever-present low-key power, but he also had one of the best "screaming" voices I've ever heard. It's difficult for me to fathom that anybody in rock could hit high notes the way he could (often in vibrato, no less), not only showing a range that could rival Jon Anderson but also staying totally in tune, all the while maintaining a resonant force in the sound (as opposed to merely hitting the high notes for their own sake). In short, he was the perfect metal vocalist.

That said, making In Rock was not merely a function of taking the sound on previous DP albums and slightly modifying it to account for a new vocalist. In particular, Ritchie sounds completely reborn on this album, as he amply demonstrates that his reduced role in the last two albums was not a function of reduced ability but rather of impaired judgement on the part of Lord and other relevant parties. His solos and riffage are given the prominent place in the mix that they deserve, as opposed to seemingly disappearing for minutes at a time as before, and they're well worth it - the guitarwork on this album is some of the most entertaining I've ever heard in my life, combining well-conceived "show-off" shredding with just enough sloppiness to give it an edge (and in the process make it that much more entertaining, much like Hendrix used to do). Jon reduces his role from before a bit in order to make room for Ritchie, but that just means he's conceded enough to become an equal partner with Blackmore - he gets his fair share of incredible keyboard solos and sounds on this album, and what's most impressive is how so many of them interact so tightly with the guitar parts that it seems they came from the same mind. Add in that Paice could do whatever the heck was required of him, and that Glover had no limit to how low he wanted the bottom of the sound to go, and you have the workings of one hell of a metal band and album.

The end result of all this is an amazing combination of songwriting and showmanship, a collection of seemingly a zillion notes with only a few wasted, and a band that can balance incredible chops with a tightness that few have ever rivaled. If pressed for "weak" tracks, I could single out side two's Into the Fire and Living Wreck as somewhat weaker than the rest. The former does seemingly "plod" a bit too much, especially in comparison to the speed-of-sound tempos of the rest of the album, but on the other hand it has a GREAT introductory riff, and the mid-tempo rhythm stomps SO much on each beat that it really becomes fascinating. In other words, it may seem like a weak DP track, but it would make a GREAT Black Sabbath track. The latter also seems like a bit of a toss-off in comparison to the rest of the album, but again these things are only relative; the slightly "airy" production helps give the drum intro a nice effect, the "screaming" sound Lord coaxes out of his organ at times is disturbing as hell, the lyrics are amusing, the riff is perfectly decent ... in short, it's weak compared to the high points of the album, but still plenty fine on its own.

The other five tracks, then, range from "excellent" to "indescribably awesome." The only one that I consider just "excellent" is the album closer, Hard Loving Man, and that's largely an effect of me getting tired by album's end. It's also partially an effect of the song being based a little too much on the blazing speed of the main rhythm track, as opposed to a particularly interesting riff, than I'd prefer, but that's just the nerdy nitpicker in me talking. The headbanger in me has a blast when it's on, as my foot doesn't stop twitching (as opposed to tapping, which is impossible because the song's too fast) for almost the entire time as the rhythm is covered with ear-piercing organ and guitar solos, before ending with Ritchie having some feedback and stereo-panning fun.

And then there's the first four tracks. Honestly, I don't think the opening Speed King gets its proper dues in general - I often (at least, more than I'd prefer) see reviews of the album refer to the lyrics as "stupid" or "immature," (they're based around cliches from 50's lyrics) and from time to time this seemingly causes people to think of the opening track as a bit of a tossoff. Personally, I think nothing could be further from the truth. Simply put, I think of this track as one of the best "calling card" numbers with which I've ever heard a band open an album. This is basic, primal, gut-instinct rock'n'roll that just happens to be faster, heavier and louder than what people had previously thought basic, primal, gut-instinct rock'n'roll could be. The first minute of the track seemingly screams out, "Hey! You don't necessarily need to make rock music more complicated or more vulgar or more serious to make it better; if you want, you can just make it kick more ass!" Of course, the song doesn't just contain that awesome series of heavy riffs and glorious Gillan singing that makes up the first minute - within a minute-and-a-half after that, Blackmore and Lord have presented us with jazzy/neo-classical/whatever interplay that practically makes all their interplay of the first three albums irrelevant. And then, more glorious screams, more glorious riffage, a spooky laugh ... damn, what a song.

The argument could be made, though, that the next track, Bloodsucker, is even better. Holy cow, WHAT AN OPENING RIFF. Listen to how tight these guys are, working their way through all sorts of starts-and-stops that don't seem forced at all, with Ritchie and Jon trading off solos over a rhythm section that sounds like it could go until the end of time. Ian is the main star of the song, though, as his "OOH NO NO NOOOOOO!!" screams beat the crap out of anything Robert Plant could pull off even in his best days. Sheesh, and then there's the side two opener, Flight of the Rat, which is basically garage rock (with another fabulous main riff) done at an unstoppably fast tempo, replete with enough brief ass-kicking solos to fill an entire side of a normal band's album. Man, if you're not sold on the band by the time you've gone through that amazing Lord part in the fourth minute, followed by Ritchie soloing like a madman in the fifth, capped by those funky-as-hell wah-wah's starting at the 4:48 Mk., there's just no hope for you with this band.

Yet for all that, it's the amazing side-one closer that ensures the album of such a high grade. Child in Time is arguably the first prog-metal piece ever, and while that genre has definitely had its fair share of ups and downs, few pieces of that type can match the original. The main slow organ theme is a welcome respite from the speed of the first two tracks, the main verse melody (with lyrics about being in a war, scared of the seeming inevitability of dying) is freaking gorgeous, and the whole thing just seemingly oozes a sense of majesty. Yet what is most impressive about it is how natural the majesty sounds - it's not the result of an artificial atmosphere, created by automated strumming of some simple chords and singing about various pot-induced fantasies, but instead comes straight from the performances themselves and not from the band jumping out of its skin to go "you're supposed to catch the atmosphere now." (Not that I necessarily dislike this approach, you see - Yes does it all the time - but it is definitely novel to see a band pull off majesty in the way DP does so here). This especially becomes obvious when Ian starts singing his "ooh's" and "aah's" in his falsetto, before stepping it up a notch (both in octave and performance) and belting out some of the most blood-chilling high-pitched in-tune screams I've ever heard. And, oh man, I really cannot explain how much in awe I am of the band as they slowly crescendo to match Gillan, before going into that brief sequence starting at 3:21 that has got to be one of the most grandiose stretches I've ever heard from any rock band ever.

And sheesh, it's just beginning at this point. Blackmore does some excellent slow, "heavenly" soloing over the verse theme for a bit, until the 4:07 Mk. when he breaks out his hyper-speedy, hyper-moving "apocalyptic" guitar parts for a couple of minutes, before Lord synchs up with him and the band plays off of Ritchie before crashing to a halt exactly two minutes later. Then the "main" part starts again, the Gillan-led catharsis re-enters, and it's all capped off with a (TIGHT AS HELL) race-to-the-finish climax (with a bunch of anguished Gillan screams) that ends on a giant, loud, long chord. I mean, damn.

In short, as far as I'm concerned, this is close to as perfect as heavy metal can get. I can't give it higher than a 13 because I tend to get exhausted when my brain spends a whole album getting bashed in with a sledgehammer (as all "pure" metal albums, even this one, tend to do), but that's my problem. If you're a headbanger who doesn't like this album, well, I guess I just don't understand headbangers at all. DP would come close to the quality of this in some songs, but never again would they make an entire album this close to immaculate.

PS: I finally heard the "full" version of Speed King everybody below was raving about. It really is as great as it's cracked up to be. Truth be told, I think the abrupt cut-in works better in the context of the album, but for the song by itself, the introduction makes a big positive difference.

It starts out on a high note, of course, and a fairly expected one at that. Fireball would fit in perfectly well on In Rock, propelled by an awesome drum groove (kicking off the song), Ritchie's typically speedy riffage, Ian's typically great singing and some more goofily fast organ and guitar solos. Of course, I can barely hear Ian's great singing, but again, that's just a general flaw to be accepted about the album. That is, except on track three (of the US version, which I have), a single that was obviously recorded in a completely different session from everything else on here. Strange Kind of Woman is just about the perfect pop-blues-rock piece, one that packages the crrrrunch that Ritchie and the rhythm players could deliver into a melody that is just about impossible to stop singing for hours after the track is over. And, naturally, it also has the best guitar solo on the album. This track would get better live, but believe me, this version deserves all the credit it can get.

The other five tracks, though, are a bit puzzling to hear on a Mk. 2 Deep Purple album. No No No is the worst of these, acting almost as a parody of the band's successes on In Rock. It starts off as an ok mid-tempo stomping rocker, kinda like Into the Fire, but not only does it not have as much crunchy power as its predecessor, it makes the mistake of going almost seven minutes without the various solos doing much interesting. Ritchie more or less succeeds in creating some trippy, "moody" guitar sounds in his part before moving into some rather mundane soloing, but Jon is largely intolerable as he plays a slooooow, boooooooring part using Tarkus noises but forgetting to make them fast or interesting. Meh. If you can make it through seven minutes of this, you're a better man than I.

Beyond this, we come to a country number (Anyone's Daughter), with an introduction featuring some beautiful slide work in places, before settling into the actual song. It isn't bad, but it won't knock Dead Flowers off its pedestal as my favorite country song anytime soon. The piano work is a nice touch, though. Then we come to a more-or-less psychedelic (!) number in The Mule, which features a fantastic percussion groove combined with Easterny guitar lines. In theory, it should probably get boring, but it really doesn't - Ritchie gets an awesome solo in the middle, and the bulk of the rest manages to be so hypnotic, and the ending so percussion intense, that I can't honestly say that I don't enjoy the heck out of it.

The last two tracks are each quite long, and my feelings are mixed for them. I kinda like the quiet Gillan vocals over the quiet organ introduction to Fools, but I'm not sure I'd stretch it out quite so long if it were up to me. The song itself ends up rocking pretty well in places, but danged if I don't notice the weak production here more than elsewhere on this album. And needless to say, making it more than eight minutes, where many stretches are slow guitar noodling over a (nice nevertheless) percussion pattern, is a bit excessive. Finally, the album ends with another well-written, well-arranged, badly produced rocker in No One Came. On the one hand, the vocals are mixed hideously on this track; on the other, Gillan's delivery is hilarious (I love the way he says "And said man your music is really funky"), Lord's solos are interesting, and the "meat" of the track is plenty tight and crunchy for my tastes.

It may seem from reading that an 8 is a bit high for the description I've given. Maybe. Then again, there's only one track that I actively dislike, a couple I really enjoy, and the rest is intriguing at the worst. In other words, I may not be thrilled by this the way I am by In Rock, but I definitely don't dislike the album enough to give it less than a very good grade. A low 8 it is.

PS: As mentioned before, I have the US version of the album. The UK version has a track called Demon Eyes (which I have not yet heard) in place of Strange Kind of Woman.

PPS: The liner notes for the US version make reference to "bassist Ian Gillan and vocalist Roger Glover." Amazing.

Fortunately, several listens eventually brought me to my senses. I still think it's a little overrated (in other words, it doesn't make it to In Rock level for me), but only a little. The biggest problem for me, as on the last album, is the production; it's an improvement over Fireball, for sure, as there's way more crunch and grit here, but nothing blasts out of the speakers the way the opening of Speed King did, and Ian's voice is still mixed annoyingly low for my tastes. Otherwise, though, except for the slight monotony of the sound (they returned to the "basics" on this album, which on the one hand means the band does what it does best, but on the other means I get worn down the way I eventually do even on In Rock. Ah well, I did only give Purple a *** after all), and a couple of slightly less inspired numbers, this is friggin' glorious.

The megahit, of course, was Smoke on the Water, which even I knew plenty well before getting into Purple, which says something considering that, as a rule, I avoid classic rock radio like the plague. I suppose there's no real use in describing the song, as the great simplistic riff and the story-telling lyrics are as essential to 70's rock as the parting of the Red Sea is to the Old Testament, but I will point out something that was brought to my attention by CapnMarvel (ie Ryan Atkinson): Paice, Glover and Lord basically set the standard here on how to turn a midtempo rocker into an immortal classic. And, oh man, is Ryan ever right to go nuts over the ending fadeout, where those three start playing an entirely different groove from the rest of the track, which may rock even harder than what they'd been doing previously. Simply glorious.

That said, while Smoke is midtempo Purple bliss, I tend to lean more to the faster Purple numbers, which is why Highway Star shares the best song title with Smoke. The Made in Japan version of this may be where I get most of my jollies, but let's not give short-shrift to the studio version of this, one of the most glorious speedy, heavy rock songs I've ever come across in my life. Lessee, we have brilliant singing, starting with an incredible scream. We have lyrics as unpretentious as can be ("Nobody gonna beat my car, gonna race it to the ground"). We have the instruments chugging along at a pace suitable to In Rock. We have insanely interesting solos (Lord's organ solo may be his peak moment with the band) from both key members, with Ritchie taking full advantage of the wonderful invention known as the whammy bar. We have heaven.

Almost rising to the same level is the album closer, Space Truckin'. Holy cow, I don't know what I love most: the "main" riff that opens and drives the song (which I especially adore when Ritchie starts shaking the rhythm of it), the riff that pops when Ian's singing the chorus, or the great screams that Ian pulls out. Man, I know that most "classic" DP songs end up getting broken down into great Ian singing and great, tight riffage, which might make the reviews seem repetitive, but I can't help it - even when I know they're doing basically the same style every time, I'm just so floored at how well they do it that I can't help but mention it for the n'th time. So sue me - I'm too busy trying to figure out how the hell Ian hits those notes near the end of this song.

Beyond these three classics, the rest of the album kinda pales in comparison, but not terribly. I'm not that thrilled by Lazy, which is just a bit too heavy on the "decent guitar jam" for my tastes (not to mention the synth introduction, where it sounds like Jon is channelling his Mk. 1 self), or by Never Before, which is an ok slightly up-tempo rocker, but I don't hate them either. The former, after all, does have some good soloing, and the latter has decent enough rhythm work to make it worth not hitting the >> button to get to Smoke on the Water. Besides, quite a few fans like these, so what do I know? I do, however, freely enjoy the crunchy mid-tempo riff of Maybe I'm a Leo, as well as the vibe of desperation that comes out of the riffage and solos of Pictures of Home. So yeah, they're fine contributions.

And there, once again, is a great slab of rock'n'roll done as heavy metal. If you are a headbanger that doesn't own this, you should be ashamed of yourself. If you're not, this can still turn you into one for about 40 minutes and not make you regret it in the meantime.

I'm really at a loss to describe how incredible most of these songs are. Ok, so I'm peeved that The Mule turns into a nine-minute excuse for Paice to have a drum solo (a big reason this album doesn't get a higher grade - I'm sorry, but I just don't jive that well with endless drum solos). And I guess Lazy could stand some trimming - it's better than the studio version, since the organ intro (while slightly overlong) is eerie as hell in places (but also amusing, like in that place where those distorted organ chords blast out the riff to Louis Louis), and the jams that come out of the "main" part of the song give a nice dose of upbeat boogie, but ten minutes was certainly a bit much for such a piece.

But the rest, oh man. I only have the 1-CD, seven-track version, even though there's apparently a 2-CD version that has the encores of the shows from which this CD was taken, but suffice it to say that the other five tracks justify the rating. As much as I enjoy the studio Highway Star, there's no question which rendition I'd take with me to my island. Oh man, it's so fast, and so energetic, and so tight, and Ian's screaming is so perfect, and Lord's organ sounds like he staked his own life force to how cool he could make his solo, and Ritchie is divebombing and soloing like a madman and playing with his whammy bar like *insert Prindlesque self-abuse metaphor here* ... I'm simply in awe. Man, if ever there was a justification for the whole metal genre, this might well be it.

Next is Child in Time, where the solos seemingly go on for an eternity but never come within a solar system's reach of tedious, where every iota of the majestic tension of the original is preserved, and where Ian replicates the ridiculously high, ridiculously in-tune wails of the original so dead-on perfectly that I'm surprised the engineers didn't have to clean up a giant thudding sound from all the Japanese jaws hitting the ground at once. Smoke on the Water actually has Ritchie screwing up the initial riff, only to cover his tracks with perfect aplomb and make it almost seem intentional, after which the band basically rips down the house. And then, after the tedium of The Mule, we get 9:50 of A Strange Kind of Woman. How do you take a perfect blues-rock pop single and make it work at a length of ten minutes, you may ask? Well, the answer is let the rhythm section enter a tight mid-tempo groove, let Ritchie intermittently play lines over it, and let IAN IMITATE THEM PERFECTLY, NO MATTER HOW NON-TRIVIAL THEY ARE. Kinda like those imitations of Jimmy Page that Robert Plant would try in early Zep albums, except instead of just sorta matching the sound and largely just contributing an "eerie" mood, actually doing a dead-on imitation.

And then there's the closing Space Truckin', which actually gives Highway Star a run for its money as best of an amazing lot. Ok, we have the "main" portion of the song, done faster and more intensely than before, kicking more ass, etc. But does it end with Ian's "yeah yeah yeah" screams and a bit of repetition of the main riff? Not on your life! There's 15 minutes of jamming left, and it friggin' RULES. Paice and Glover enter into a mindblowingly intense rhythmic groove that seems like it could last forever without petering out (and I mean it - give me Ian Paice's pounding here over anything in John Bonham's whole career), Lord proceeds to coax every decent noise (and maybe some non-decent ones, depending on your perspective) possible out of his organ (before quoting the Mandrake Root jam), Ritchie does all sorts of whacky things, the band shuts down, the band starts up again and pounds its way to the finish ... yup, that's one hell of a jam right there.

In short, if you care about rock'n'roll or heavy metal at all, you need this. If you've ever wondered why heavy metal shows in general became so ridiculously wanky in so many ways, it is because this album showed that it was possible for heavy metal to wank this much and still kick so much ass that it doesn't matter.

Actually, there is a method to my madness, namely that this acts as a fine companion piece to Japan. The first disc is taken from a 1970 BBC session with John Peel, showing an underground jam band that hadn't yet released In Rock, while the second is taken from a 1972 session done a month or so before the release of Machine Head, showing a well-established band promoting a fabulous album. In addition to friggin' marvelous renditions of Speed King and Child in Time (the latter of which has an interesting moment where Gillan almost falters in the high-pitched wails, only to effortlessly pull back into his normal range long enough to collect himself and nail the screams), the first disc also features 18 minutes of Wring that Neck and 17 minutes of Mandrake Root. Truth be told, I start to droop a bit around the 10-minute marks of each of these, as there's really only so much of this kind of jam that I can take at one time, but that's definitely not to say they're totally unenjoyable. They each kick a good deal of booty for a very solid while, after all.

Disc 2 is a bit more interesting to me as a whole, mainly because it gives a chance to hear prime DP play MH numbers in a bit of a different way than on Japan. The emphasis is much less on "Let's see just how fast and insane we can make these numbers without falling apart" and more on "Let's just make sure these numbers kick a lot of ass," but that's sure not a bad thing. Six of the seven Machine Head numbers are done here (Pictures of Home is left out), in addition to Strange Kind of Woman and an awesome cover of Lucille by Little Richard, and while they may not be as otherworldly at times as Japan, they nevertheless chug along as unstoppable crunchy machines. Heck, I'd definitely say that this is my favorite version of Lazy that I've thus far heard, perhaps because of the clarity of the sound, and Never Before reveals a potential to me that I didn't really see before. And needless to say, the other tracks rock me into the ground, just as always.

For some reason, I put off getting this for a good while, but that was silly of me. It's not quite as revelatory perhaps as Japan, but it's still a rip-rolling good time for the prime DP consumer that I am. If that's you, you should swipe this up faster than Ritchie's Highway Star solo.

In all fairness, though, I really like the album's most famous song, the hit Woman from Tokyo. Ok, so it's basically mid-tempo generic heavy pop rock, which can understandably drive many people away from it (honestly, I remembered it as not so good until I started listening to this album in earnest for reviewing purposes). But dang it, the riff is nice, the hooks are well-established, Gillan gets in some delightfully dorky "OW!!" screams in the verses, the mid-section is lovely, the coda is fun ... It's a bit disappointing as an opener to a DP album, since it doesn't blaze like we've come to expect from DP openers, but as a song unto itself, it's quite a nice little ditty.

Unfortunately, there's the rest of the album to deal with, which I find extremely disappointing. The thing that bugs me the most when listening to a lot of these songs is that I can tell that this is a band that is instinctively comfortable with making heavy music, yet it almost seems as if, once they'd sense that a song was veering in that direction, that they'd intentionally try to shift the mode away from ass-kicking and into poppier modes. Only problem is, the attempts to put poppier aspects in the songs just aren't that good - the lukewarm "rocking out" is compounded by the lukewarm hooks, and the result just seems incredibly lifeless and mediocre to me. It also doesn't help that some of the "rock out" attempts use older classics as crib notes - Super Trouper is based off of Bloodsucker (before aborting the riffage and turning into some sort of stupid poppy psychedelic thing), and Smooth Dancer reminds me just a little bit too much of Speed King for my comfort.

Of the other four tracks, Rat Bat Blue is undoubtedly the best, as it boasts a ferocious funky riff (over which Ian throws some stupid singing) that eventually gives way to a great organ jam. Alas, Mary Long tries to rock but doesn't (and has stupid lyrics to boot), Place in Line is a lazy attempt at a blues jam, and the closing Our Lady goes in one of my ears and out the other, leaving no trace of its attempt at majesty or whatever.

In short, mediocrity abounds. Glover and Gillan left in disgust (or did Ritchie push them out? Ah, the mysteries of life), and thus ended Mk. 2. So sad that such a great band went out on such a non-great note.

Ok, ok, so the band once again managed to include a major classic as the opening track. Yup, the title track is basically a lock for best DP Mk. 3 number, combining an utterly awesome speedy guitar/organ riff with what can actually be considered a decent singing performance from David and Glenn. Ok, so Dave's voice is a little dull for my heart, and Glenn's voice tends to sound like a cross between bad hair-metal vocals and mediocre soul-vocals, but at least on this track, they combine into something that sounds halfway decent. Then again, though, one doesn't exactly look to a song like this for the vocals - it's for the riff and energetic solos, which easily live up to the reputation that Ritchie and Jon built up for themselves in Mk. 2. I could live without some of the synths near the end, but that's just a slight complaint.

Unfortunately, the opening is extremely deceptive, and not just because none of the other songs are fast rockers. The title track exudes power and inspiration and all sorts of good things, while most of the other tracks simply don't. There are some exceptions, of course; the most notable is the bluesy Mistreated, which makes good use of David's vocals, which augment the power of Ritchie's riff and moody solos quite well. Sail Away is alright thanks to a fine funky guitar riff (too often augmented by some awful synth sounds, though), even though the vocals strike me as obnoxious in more than a couple of places. And, er, Might Just Take Your Life at least has a couple of decent hooks to go with its generic cock-rockitude.

But sheesh, the rest of the album? Lay Down Stay Down is basically David and Glenn screaming/wailing/whatever over instrumental parts that never enter an involving or memorable groove, You Fool No One only interests me in terms of the funky drumming, What's Going On Here comes closer to the definition of generic cock-rock than I knew was possible, and the closing instrumental ... Ugh. Behold Jon Lord tying a rondo rhythm to a bunch of awful synth noises and an ok guitar solo. Is this supposed to be majestic? "Artistic?" Whatever.

I can't believe I've listened to this album as many times as I have this week. Just find the title track and Mistreated, and screw the rest.

I wish I could say that about the rest of the album. The thing that just drives me nuts is how ordinary the band sounds on this album; Ritchie doesn't sound like he's enjoying himself at all, Jon doesn't add the least bit of spark to the sound, and Ian never gets the chance to go beyond regular r&b and mid-tempo boogie rock. As for the songs themselves, the bulk of the album is basically a bunch of tenth-rate Stevie Wonder funk imitations, with David and Glenn making total asses of themselves. Good golly, I cannot believe I forced myself to repeatedly sit through an album that has a song with David Coverdale singing the line, "I'm gonna take you home and give you all I can, baby, I'll prove to you woman that, really, I'm a man." There's a couple of "purer" rockers that seem a little better to my ears, though Gypsy really isn't much more than somewhat interesting (somebody wake Ritchie up!), and the riffage of Lady Double Dealer is nowhere as thick and satisfying as Ritchie and Co. had shown they could make similar sounding parts in the past.

Oh, and there's a couple of ballads, one of which is alright and one of which is basically atrocious. Holy Man (with just Glenn on vocals) is a bit pompous lyrically, but it's at least pretty in the verses, largely thanks to some uncharacteristic slide guitar (we last had that on Anyone's Daughter, right?). The closing Soldier of Fortune, however, is every bit as bad as one can imagine a power ballad sung by David Coverdale could be. PULL OUT YER LIGHTERS, EVERYONE!!! And dig one of the tackiest uses of mellotron ever conjured up by mortal man!

I wrote more about this album than it deserves. Ritchie left in disgust as soon as touring for this album was over, and it's hard to blame him; in just a couple of years, DP had gone from one of the most interesting and unique heavy rock bands in the world to ordinary in every sense of the word. If you're REALLY in the mood for an inferior, more funkified version of Burn, go for it, otherwise just keep walking.

Mistreated is also a major highlight, as it lets David shine in the one song where I consider his vocals an asset, as well as letting Ritchie stretch out and express his moody pissitude in a constructive manner. Hey, it's not Child in Time, but what is? As a great moody blues workout, this is easily the equal of, I dunno, Since I've Been Loving You.

Of course, there's the other two tracks to deal with, and that's where things start to fall apart. Well, ok, Lady Double Dealer is alright (though not that much of an improvement from before), but You Fool No One takes almost 17 friggin' minutes. I do appreciate how the funky drumming stands out even more here than before, but the song itself was never that enjoyable, and it certainly doesn't help that Ian uses the track as, you guessed, his chance to solo. Ah man, if I considered the big drum solo a drawback on Made in Japan, how am I supposed to feel about it on a lesser live album?

Still, it's quite alright. I don't rate it extremely highly because I can't think of it as really essential (nothing from Mk. 3 is), but it's good for a couple of listens. Which is definitely more than can be said for Stormbringer.

Fortunately, it's no worse than Made in Europe, and even better in some ways. The first version of Mistreated is absolutely astounding, as Ritchie slowly works into the introduction and then just WAILS that slow, emotional guitar line (missing some notes, but to good effect) in a way that outdoes just about every other power-metal ballad that would be made afterwards. Plus, David continues to prove that there is one song in the world that justifies his existence; I could do without the parts where David is basically whaling solo, but they could be worse, and everything else in the performance is just dandy.

Elsewhere, the other songs that also had renditions on Europe work just as well here as there (heck, I'd say Lady Double Dealer works better), and even Gypsy sounds better live than in the studio. Come to think of it, the only significant problems (aside from that You Fool No One endless drum solo) on here come when the band decides to tackle Mk. 2 material. Smoke on the Water is really limp here (tasty introductory licks from Lazy aside), done too fast to preserve the intensity that was always its strongest point (not to mention that Dave and Glenn can't sound convincing when singing here). Space Truckin', despite some twists in the jam that I appreciate (the quick quote of Child in Time especially), has some seriously ugly synth noises, not to mention that Dave isn't at all in tune when he's singing in the verses. And Highway Star, you may ask? "She's got big fat tits, big fat tits and everything." Enough said, shut your mouth Dave.

Still, it all could be a lot worse. Throw in alternate versions of Mistreated (which rules, naturally) and You Fool No One (which doesn't really, but whatever), and this can honestly function as all the Mk. 3 Purple you need. Which more or less makes it worth having, I guess.

It's largely for that reason that I somewhat prefer this, the only studio release of Mk. 4, to the two Mk. 3 albums. Tommy may not be quite the guitar god that Ritchie is often considered, but given the choice between an apathetic Ritchie (who seemed to loathe the funk cliches forced upon him) and an enthusiastic Tommy, I'll go with the latter any day. The other band members may not be that much better at making funk rock interesting than they were before, but at least now the guitarist and bassist are obviously happy with each other and with the band's direction, as opposed to the guitarist wanting to chop the bassist's balls off.

Still, it's hard to give the album too high of a rating when that's the main thrust of my arguments in defense of the album. This album is actually reasonably enjoyable when it's on, but I just can't get my mind to treat Deep Purple playing 45 minutes of funk as much more than background noise, and that's a tough hurdle to get over. Once again, Lord and Paice may as well be any of a billion session musicians, not making any truly interesting or unique contributions, and Dave's still Dave.

That said, Tommy does his best to keep everybody enthused, and that at least somewhat rubs off on me. The opening Comin' Home is kind enough to start with cool feedback noises, and at least is a fairly up-tempo funk number (nothing like the metallic blasts we've become accustomed to as openers, though). Lady Luck has a hook or two, Gettin' Tighter manages to occasionally get my booty shaking (a MAJOR accomplishment), and ... well, the rest of them are enjoyable when on, even though I haven't the slightest idea which song is which from looking at song names, or how any of them go. Oh, wait, I remember that This Time Around is a fairly low point, with Glenn trying to deliver a moving, anthemic soul ballad, and sounding just as horrible as that prospect looks on paper. And come to think of it, the closing You Keep on Moving, atmospheric and anthemic as it could have been with some other bands, just makes me giggle when I think that it's Dave and Glenn trying to be atmospheric and anthemic.

In short, if you can get past the fact that the only improvement here is that the guitarist actually cares, while all the previous flaws are still in place, you might actually enjoy giving this a whirl. Don't pay too much, though.

So naturally somebody decided that what the world needed was for one of the most poorly regarded live albums ever to be remastered and expanded. This Time Around is that 2-CD expansion, and while the sound quality is decent enough, it also shows quite clearly that the main problems weren't cosmetic, but rather the fact that the gig was mediocre at best. There are actually a few relatively high points, but there are so many embarrassing moments that I can't listen to most of this without fidgeting. In terms of Spinal Tap-level absurdity, I would be hardpressed to think of anything more absurd than the band's segue out of the funky I Need Love (from CTTB) into Soldier of Fortune, which makes the latter just seem even more ridiculous than before. That said, a very close second would be the band following its (absolutely wretched) rendition of Smoke on the Water with Glenn singing Georgia on my Mind.

And sheesh, if you thought there was a lot of wanking on Japan, you'll be amazed at the amount here. Lessee, we have a 9:43 John Lord solo (in which he includes an instrumental version of Woman from Tokyo, which is actually kinda cool). We have Lazy culminating in ANOTHER seven minute drum solo. We have seven minutes of a Tommy Bolin guitar solo, and given that he couldn't really feel his fretting hand, I'm sure you can imagine just how tedious that is.

And then there's David. Lessee, he tries to get the crowd going in the beginning with screams that show him trying to do an imitation of Gillan - a noble effort, and the crowd buys it, but I sure don't. He repeatedly says "Domo Arigato" to the crowd, which I know is probably some sort of Japanese greeting, but you'd better believe that my brain instantly thinks, "Mr. Roboto." He doesn't bother to sing the third verse of Smoke. In Highway Star, instead of, "She's got a moving mouth, body control and everything," he sings, "She's got big fat knockers, big fat knockers and everything." And, of course, there's the aforementioned I Need Love/Soldier of Fortune segue.

Still, for all of that, there are some positives to be found. Burn is a great opener as usual, despite Lord's organ being the loudest instrument when playing the glorious riff. Stormbringer also kicks as much ass as ever (just like on Made in Europe, it's helped by the keyboard tones not sucking like on the original), even though ten minutes is a bit excessive. Also, a lot of the CTTB band material is extremely likable here - Love Child's opening phased riff is much more impressive here than before, and this 16:52 version of Gettin' Tighter is massively entertaining for at least 10 or so minutes of its running time. And hey, there's a Bolin solo composition, a guitar-heavy ballad called Wild Dogs, with Bolin's vocals showing more real passion than Glenn or Dave ever showed in their time in Purple.

Overall, though, this is hardly an essential pickup for a Purple fan. I've seen more used copies of this than any other Purple album, and it's not hard for me to tell why. If you find it reeeeeeally cheap, get it for some of the highlights, but be prepared for some massive lows as well. Especially when David and Tommy end up butchering Highway Star at the end, arrgh.

Heck, even the lengthy, wanky Bolin guitar solo, as self-indulgent it may be, is a lot of fun. Bolin is clearly enjoying himself immensely, going from funk to country to blues to fusion freakouts to whatever, and while some of the stop-starts near the beginning get a little irritating, the entirety of it is awfully entertaining. Maybe it stops the momentum of the show a bit, but it's a heck of a lot more fun to listen to a guitarist at the top of his game than when he's missing the use of a hand ...

Yes, the album has a lot of problems. Yes, Dave sings "She's got big fat tits" during Highway Star (though the way the band splices in Buddy Holly's Not Fade Away during the second half kinda makes up for it) again. Yes, Glenn sounds like a pompous ass in This Time Around. Yes, there's another stupid drum solo in Lazy (you know, for a drummer that I otherwise like a lot, Ian manages to piss me off quite a bit with his love of drum solos). But you know, I generally enjoyed listening to this album despite all these usual negatives. It's really too bad Tommy couldn't have been paired with a better vocalist and a less idiotic bassist ...

Plenty wrong, that's what. Glover didn't really lose anything of note over time (though he isn't immune from blame for this album - he was the main producer, after all), but a lot happened to Ritchie and Ian in the previous decade, not all of which was for the better. Ritchie had some success with Rainbow, but supposedly (I say that because I haven't heard any Rainbow as of this writing) the band got far too cheezily mainstream in the 80's, the blame of which could be primarily placed on Ritchie's shoulders. As for Ian, well, as was first demonstrated in a disastrous '83 stint with Black Sabbath, he simply lost his voice. The low-key power he'd had in his 'normal' range before had largely dissipated by this time into creakiness, and when he'd try to go loud, or, heaven help us, high, it could be downright painful to listen to. In other words, what was once one of the band's greatest assets was now, sadly, one of the band's greatest liabilities.

Not that it really matters on this album. The band largely chooses to follow instead of lead with this album, and given both that it was 1984 and what Ritchie's goals in Rainbow had been the past few years, that basically spells disaster. The band tries hard to get in with the pop-metal crowd of 1984, and that means tepid riffs and melodies that aren't hard enough to drive away the average consumer, and not poppy enough to drive away the average metalhead. This also means that the drums are largely electronic, the keyboards are set to cheezy-synth mode, and the guitars are only there as much as they need to be. All this and sung by a guy who lost his voice. Whee!

The situation isn't completely hopeless, fortunately. The opening "epic" Knocking at Your Back Door has the band making the best of all the crappy ingredients listed above; the guitar line that pops up in the introduction and during the "chorus" section is fairly nice, there's a halfway decent solo in the middle, and I'm almost able to forget that I'm listening to an 80's hair-metal piece about anal sex. I gotta say, though, that that kinda pisses me off; early 70's DP weren't choir boys, of course, but the band always seemed much "cleaner" than other heavy bands of the era, largely because Gillan didn't revel in the kinds of lyrical excesses that Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath soaked themselves in. So of course they IMMEDIATELY blow that image by making a thinly veiled anthem about butt-sex (note that I'm bothered by this not because of anything against the act itself, but rather because the band seemed to think that in order to get noticed in the 80's, they had to try and ruffle the moral feathers of society). Meh.

The title track, on the other hand, sounds to my ears like a complete success. Supposedly, Ritchie milked this Kashmir-style sound to death in his time in Rainbow, so it might not sound that great to longtime followers of all of Ritchie's work, but it sure sounds great to me. For one thing, the opening has Lord bringing out the distorted Hammond organ of old and putting away the synths, which is a rare thing on this album for sure. However, when he brings out the synths again, he puts them to good use, playing a hypnotic "Eastern" riff that pops up from time to time. The rest of the band gets into the same act effectively, from Ian 'bending' his vocal notes in largely the same way Plant did on Kashmir, to Ian's monotonous rhythms actually functioning as hypnotic instead of boring, to ... whatever. Point is, this is the one track here that really oozes inspiration, even if it's somewhat secondhand.

The other six tracks (seven if you count a bonus on the CD, which isn't any better than the rest), though, just don't appeal to my ears at all. Under the Gun is only memorable for the INCREDIBLY cheezy use of Pomp and Circumstance at one point near the end (a move comparable only to Spinal Tap's use of a classical quote at the end of Heavy Duty), Nobody's Home starts with a ridiculous cheezy synth introduction and moves into a set of riffs presented in the lamest way possible, A Gypsy's Kiss is fast without having any of the classic DP power ... it just goes on. Mean Streak has a little guilty-pleasure appeal for me, but not much more; Wasted Sunsets is an average terrible mid-80's power ballad (with terrible singing - the way Ian sings "sunseeeeeets" is downright painful); Hungry Daze has a slightly interesting (but dorky) synth-guitar pattern that pops up from time to time, but completely loses me otherwise (except for those TERRIBLE synth *konk* noises that sound like something from Jethro Tull's A). MEH.

Strangely enough, there are some fans that consider this comeback a success. All I can say is that, if you're one of those people, you have a far greater tolerance of and love for 80's metal in all its various forms than I do. For me personally, this kind of music is one of my inner circles of rock'n'roll hell. I give it a 4 because I like a couple of the songs, and there are some *parts* in the other tracks that slightly catch my ear in a good way (such as the occasional good Ritchie passage), but I simply cannot go any higher than this. It's a looong way from here to Speed King, I'll tell you what.

It's not just a competent Gillan that makes me give this a very good grade. The band is extremely tight, and furthermore shows that it hadn't lost the spirit of its peak 70's performances. In other words, whereas in a few years, Space Trucking would be reduced to a five-minute "greatest hits" runthrough, here it's a good fifteen minutes, with a snippet of Ravel's Bolero thrown into the extended coda for good measure. Speed King also gets a surprising extension, with Ritchie pulling out the riffs to Burn and Land of a Thousand Dances (!) while Ian sings Not Fade Away. Heck, they even do an instrumental version of an old Rainbow number (Difficult to Cure), and while I'm completely unfamiliar with Rainbow and thus am not completely sure which parts are faithful to the number and which parts are the band goofing around, I'm moderately amused at the way they throw in a snippet of Ode to Joy.

Sheesh, and did I mention yet that Ritchie is on fire in this concert? I don't mean it in the technically great but sterile way of Nobody's Perfect either, I mean on a level that's at least, I dunno, 80% of the intensity level found on Japan, which is sufficient to make this one hell of a Ritchie performance. And heck, this is the second best Lazy I've ever heard (first is from the In Concert double CD), not in the least because of Ritchie (it also helps that the obligatory Paice solo is short, heh).

Basically, this is just a fun, spirited performance. Ian can't keep a straight face, for instance, when he tries to introduce Speed King as a ballad and as the slowest, most agonizingly depressing song they'd ever done; that feeling of goofy levity, staring in the face of non-stop rain and gloomy weather, is something I can feel throughout the concert, and that's a positive. What it kinda reminds me of, actually, is a bootleg I have of the first Yes concert of the Rabin era; the band is mildly uncertain and on edge, but this translates into the band working its collective tail off, and that ever-present sense of effort makes the album a very fun listen. Undoubtedly, this is my favorite release of the Mk 2.x lineup, and I happily recommend it.

Just as I've accepted that I'm about to sit through one of the worst albums of my life, though, on comes the opening riffage of Mad Dog, and I'm nearly knocked out of my chair. Holy crap, what a great, gruff riff that piece has - the rest of the song is mostly built of the usual 80's pop-metal ingredients (terrible synths, electronic drums, etc), but if this song had been made 15 years earlier, it would've been absolutely killer.

Thus begins a pattern that largely dominates the rest of the album. EVERY song from that point onward has some aspect that sounds extremely good to me, even if that aspect usually ends up getting covered by everything else. Black and White has a cool harmonica/guitar duel in the middle! Hard Lovin' Woman has a terrific pair of riffs (one of which is unfortunately doubled on synth horns at times), and some solid (albeit kinda 80's) soloing from Ritchie in the middle! The Spanish Archer has Ritchie's guitar truly dominating the sound for the first time in forever! Strangeways has a synth riff so goofy that it's actually entertaining, and almost makes me forget that it's over seven minutes long! Mitzi Dupree is a goofily slow, almost jazzy rocker, with some actual Hammond in the background! Dead or Alive has great messy riffage, just like old times!

Of course, all of these songs have other things that bug me. Ian G. sounds terrible, Jon's obsession with bad synth tones is both frightening and omnipresent, Ian P.'s drums have the same electronic robotic sound as before, the band is writing melodies that can easily serve as a textbook of bad 80's metal tendencies, etc. But you see, the difference between this and Perfect Strangers is that PS had all these same problems, but didn't have the glimmers of hope that exist in so many of these tracks.

Hence this album gets a significantly better grade than its predecessor. I don't really like it, of course, but I definitely don't hate it either. Many fans do hate it, though, and apparently so does the band, so it's pretty likely that you can find this at a cheap price somewhere.

Strangely enough, it is by far the 2.1 tracks that come across best on this album. I liked the studio version of Perfect Strangers a lot, but I'd take a good guess that this is the definitive version, as there's just enough of an increase in tempo (at least, I think so - maybe it's just the live vibe, who knows) to add a lot of energy and intensity to an already tense piece. Hard Lovin' Woman also works very well live, and I almost don't even mind the song morphing into Under the Gun halfway through (I can't believe that Ritchie and Co. had so little shame that they could play that Pomp and Circumstance snippet in front of people). Best of all, though, is Knocking at Your Back Door, largely because it's introduced by Lord having fun on his keyboards in the sort of way Keith Emerson would back in the 70's (ie piano improvisations where he would reference all sorts of pieces from all sorts of styles). And hey, let's not minimize the song itself, which benefits a ton from the live vibe.

Unfortunately, these three recent tracks are chunked together in the middle of the album, surrounded on both sides by mediocre (and worse, sometimes MUCH MUCH WORSE) renditions of the old classics. If you, like me, didn't care for Ian's singing on the last two studio albums, you'll be horrified by how he single-handedly destroys the first two tracks on this album. Highway Star starts off fine instrumentally, and the verse singing is at first passable (Ian sounds older, but not in a horrid way), but when he tries to scream "I love it! I need it!" it no longer sounds like a masterful singer going into the upper register. Instead, it sounds like a man with no upper register squealing like a pig, hoping that nobody notices and calls him on it. Arguably, however, what happens to Strange Kind of Woman is even worse. Remember how he could do those perfect imitations of Ritchie's guitar lines in the mid-section? Well, to put it nicely, you don't get that here. Instead you get Ian yelping indiscriminately in response to Ritchie, only somewhat in tune with him, pretending that he's doing the imitations that he once could, but instead making a total fool of himself. Heck, I'm not even that glad to hear Ian singing blurbs from Jesus Christ Superstar - it's just more material that he once could sing well that he can't sing well anymore.

Ian is not the sole responsible party for making this album such a pain to listen to, however. If you don't believe, just check out the agonizing version of Child in Time that comes after the 2.1 chunk. Ian tries his best here, and some credit has to be given for that; the lower range sounds thinner than I'd like, but that's a given now, and while the upper-level screams don't get the perfect power they once had, the energy and effort put into trying to get to that level at least gives a slight boost to Ian's singing here (slight, mind you). No, what mostly hurts the piece is everybody else, particularly Ritchie; the cathartic mid-section is denigrated into Ritchie playing generic hair-metal "shredder" scales, without an ounce of the moody, passionate creativity that made this piece one of my favorite pieces ever made by a metal band. There is NO WAY I would regard Child in Time as highly as I do if this was what the soloing in the original consisted of - that was shredding with purpose, this is just shredding to shred. Besides, Ritchie doesn't even bother to shut up when the rest of the band does, like he's supposed to in that section! And the rush to the finish? LAME.

The last four live tracks aren't anywhere near as bad as this, but hardly very inspiring. Lazy is straight-forward, uninspired and short - enough said. The ending Smoke on the Water is at least better than it was when sung by Coverdale, but I'm bothered by the way the band sped it up, as if to get it over with; by doing so, it loses a lot of the pounding intensity that made it so attractive in the first place. On the other hand, I'm pretty happy to have a live version of Black Night, a non-LP track from the early 70's, and Woman from Tokyo is as mindlessly fun as ever (and there's Buddy Holly quotes at the end!), so that's at least something.

As a strange bonus, the band ends this live album with a new re-recording of Hush, and from a certain twisted perspective, it kinda rules. But one nice studio surprise isn't enough to totally undo the effect of so many mediocre live "interpretations" of classic material. Consider the grade an extremely generous reward for the band making me like the 2.1 material as much as I do here, and don't hurry out to look for it.

You have to forgive me, oh faithful reader; I just don't know how to adequately review an album like this, mostly because I tend to avoid music like this like the plague. I know that some people like this sort of music - I've even read somebody's claim that Love Conquers All, a generic power-ballad that makes me puke up food that doesn't yet exist, is one of the best ballads ever written. I guess the rest of the album isn't as bad as it could be - once I get past the Final Fantasy synths and "evil" ominous vocal sounds that open the album, King of Dreams isn't that bad, The Cut Runs Deep is ok (I kinda like the segue from the generic Renaissance-like opening to the generic metallic riffage), and ... uh ... well, I don't passionately hate any single track on here (except for the aforementioned power ballad). Fire in the Basement actually has a decent opening riff, albeit a rip of Wring that Neck. But sheesh, even those little details don't really save these songs, and there's not much I can figure out to say otherwise in the plus column. The album, as a whole, isn't that heavy, it's not that memorable, it's ... just a smoother, less awkward, slightly less artificial-sounding version of Blue Light, except without a couple of cool riffs or great guitar solo passages.

I guess I just can't understand why Ritchie thought the world needed more generic hair metal with stupid "mystical" album covers, or why the rest of the band members decided to shed all bits of individuality they might have had left. And honestly, I just don't understand how this could have ever been what "cool" people listened to. If ever there was an album that could remind me why Nirvana was a good and necessary thing for the music world, this is it. This isn't the worst music experience of my life, but it's hardly a time I'll look back on and cherish.

Actually, truth be told, Ian's voice doesn't really bother me on this album, largely because his contributions were mostly an afterthought (the album was originally recorded with Turner still singing), and as such he's kinda buried in the mix. What bothers me about this album is that it amply demonstrates that this particular Purple lineup (we're up to Mk. 2.2!) simply had nothing left to say that it hadn't already said. Truth be told, it's not offensively dumb like the Mk. 3 albums sounded to me so much of the time, and it's not offensively 80's like the worst moments of Mk. 2.1. It's just boring, or at least it is if you don't live for mid-tempo, "heavy" riff-rock. The reason I enjoyed Mk. 2 so much was that they did heavy rock with a flair; lots of energy, lots of cool guitar/organ duels, often lots of speed, lots of amazing riffs, and so on. This is heavy on the surface, but done in such a way that suggests the band only cared about writing the material, without putting enough of an emphasis on playing and producing the album in a clever manner. The riffs are ok, but mostly uninspiring, the guitar solos don't tend to interest me, there isn't a single organ passage that I can remember catching my interest, and every single song sounds the same to me texture-wise. Whee!

In the album's defense, I can say there are a couple of tracks where the riffs are sufficiently great to merit my praise. The main riff of the opening title track got my hopes for the album up quite a bit, as I can honestly say I like it more than any Purple riff since that to Burn. In addition, while the "main" melody isn't that hot, the "counter"-melody that climaxes in Ian yelling out "THE BATTLE RAGES ON" with conviction is a hoot and a half, and helps make the track into a classic. Another classic closes out the album, with Ritchie pounding out an effective heavy riff and the band dabbling in funk (in a good way, not in an icky Hold On way) with One Man's Meat. Heck, it even has a bit of harmonica at the end, adding some nice instrumental diversity to the mix.

Unfortunately, the middle eight tracks don't live up to this standard. Things seemingly start ok with Lick It Up; I'm not a big fan of the song (largely because I just can't get myself to totally freely enjoy a track with that name), but I kinda like the way the ok riff alternates occasionally with a chiming upward guitar line in the background, and it seems like a passable mid-tempo stomper when I'm listening to it. But then Anya, this album's version of Perfect Strangers, comes in. Aside from the ok Spanish guitar opening, there is nothing I can think of in the track that would make me ever want to listen to this instead of its predecessor. It's just more mid-tempo gloppy stomping, only this time with a bit more emphasis on the synths than on the rest of the album.

At the very least, though, Anya is ear-raising for a bit. Tracks four through nine may as well be one big track four to me, because it all sounds the same to my ears, and that same sure isn't a very entertaining same. They each tend to entertain me for about five seconds, as I hear the opening riff for the first time, but my brain seemingly goes into "Oh no, not again" vapor lock, and the music goes right into the "background listening" part of my mind. It's not the worst background listening in the world, and in the occasional moments where I force my brain to focus, I sorta enjoy hearing the band's half-hearted heaviness, but as you can tell, that's not exactly the biggest compliment I've given the band on this site.

In short, it's just kinda sad what happened to Ritchie and Co. over time. Somehow, Ritchie boxed himself into a very small set of ideas, only able to repeat these few tricks ad nauseum, and the rest of the band didn't have the means or guts to try and fight him. Alas, this just isn't a set of ideas that really excites me at all, and consequently the band, at this point, doesn't excite me at all. Some artists that were great as youngsters can age and adapt well over time, and some simply cannot; Deep Purple Mk. 2.x certainly belonged to the latter in 1993, a group that just about defined "washed up," and only a major shakeup could have any chance of fixing that.

No, what made Morse such a perfect replacement for Blackmore was that he brought a ton of new ideas to the table, which I'm sure the band was only too happy to embrace after 10+ years of Blackmore's maddening conservatism. Sure, Deep Purple sounds good again on this album, but more important to me, Deep Purple actually sounds RELEVANT again, and believe you me, that's something that could never be written again had Ritchie remained in the band. All of the stupid hair metal cliches and everything that went with them have been pushed away, replaced with a style in the rockers that's a bit grungey, a bit funky, and a lot Purple. The last of these traits is largely brought about by the long-awaited resurgence of Jon Lord, who actually sounds like a living, breathing, autonomous musical force for the first time in seemingly forever. The weird organ chordings in Soon Forgotten show him getting to do something other than latch onto Ritchie's boring patterns, and the energetic keyboards in Rosa's Cantina and Hey Cisco (to name a couple) show more verve than anything since Machine Head.

As for the other band members, they also thrive in this new approach and recording environment. Ian's voice obviously isn't any better than it used to be, but he did figure out how to mostly keep it out of squealing territory, so that's a big positive right there. And Roger and Ian P., well, they just sound awesome here, and not like the anonymous studio musicians they may as well have been to that point in the second era of Deep Purple. It helps also that the production is great here, which means that I can both feel and hear just how tight and interesting and heavy the rhythm section is on this album.

So why only an 8(11)? Well, it's because, truth be told, this album is easier and a lot more interesting to talk about on a general level than on a song-by-song basis. For me, only a few tracks standout as major highlights, namely the ones that rock the hardest. The opening Vavoom: Ted the Mechanic is probably the best, with an unstoppable, chugging-riffage funky groove, over which Ian preaches it (not really singing, except in the chorus) in the verses, and over which Steve is able to get his ya-ya's out in a great way. But the aforementioned Rosa's Cantina and Hey Cisco certainly come close, with chugging grooves of their own, all the while laced with a good job by Gillan, good guitar/organ breaks and the aforementioned great rhythm section plugging away as if the last 20 years had never happened. The closing Purpendicular Waltz also falls in the same category, and is aptly named - the style of the other heavier numbers of the album, only done in large parts as a "waltz."

As for the other eight tracks, I enjoy them, but I like them more in terms of "framing" the album than as individual songs. So for instance, I'm thrilled that there are a couple of nice poppy numbers on here (The Aviator, A Touch Away), but that's largely just because I'm glad they allow a breather from the heavy riffage of the better numbers. In other words, I like them (I'm quite fond of the chimey poppy guitar line that drives forward The Aviator), but more within the context of the album than as songs that I'll be flipping back to once I'm done reviewing this. Likewise, the "anthemic" ballads, Loosen My Strings and Sometimes I Feel Like Screaming, sound fairly nice, but again, I'm not gonna flip back to them repeatedly. Besides, Screaming could definitely stand some trimming - I can tolerate it even though it's a power ballad (actually, truth be told, the idea of a modern-day Gillan trying to sing a power ballad scared me before I listened to it, but he does a good job by staying quiet when he needs to), and I like the fast chorus, but more than seven minutes??!! I'm just not convinced that I need this "heavenly" soloing to go on for so long, and I can definitely see how it could get on somebody's nerves.

Elsewhere, Soon Forgotten is interestingly disturbing, and Cascades - I'm Not Your Lover, A Castle Full of Rascals and Somebody Stole My Guitar are amusing "dumb" (not really in a bad way) rockers with decent enough work from everybody. They're not as mindblowing as the highlights, but they're still ok, and definitely work well in the context of the album. Put another way, next time I put in the album, I won't be skipping any of the tracks - and that's the first time I can say that about a Purple album since Machine Head.

In short, I can't guarantee that every Purple fan will love this (somebody coming straight from Mk. 2 without any exposure to intermediate albums will probably be horrified by Ian's voice - at least, that was my experience, as I first listened to tracks from this long before I ever listened to Perfect Strangers and the like), but for somebody who's gone in chronological order, this will be one of the biggest reliefs I can imagine. And hey, if you're a big fan of 90's metal in general, this will probably blow you away.

The really good news is that, in small doses, this album often tends to rule. Despite its poor spelling, the opening Any Fule Kno That is an awesome successor to Vavoom et. al., with Ian basically rapping over an ultra-intense set of guitar-organ riffage, with (I love writing this, no matter how many times I do it) an absolutely wonderful organ break in the middle and some nice (albeit generic, but whatever) guitar shreddage at the end. I'm also a big fan of '69 (heh), which is driven by an awesome riff that combines complexity and intensity in the way something like, I dunno, Hard Loving Man did back on In Rock (don't forget about the quiet, ringing introduction though). Watching the Sky also stands out, alternating a creepily mellow, atmospheric Ian vocal in the verses (which tends to build in intensity from time to time) with some more heavy groove. And ... hey! Bludsucker (sic)!!! Obviously, it's not as good as the original, as Ian can't get the notes in any way that resembles the original, but it's such a nice psychological boost at album's end that I can't help but smile. Besides, Lord reinvents his organ solo, Steve does some neat stuff, and that riff is still that riff.

So that's four songs, leaving a whole mess of other tracks to sort through. The thing to bear in mind about them is that, except for a couple (the slooooow, boring Don't Make Me Happy in particular), they're mostly pretty good listens. Unfortunately, while they probably don't fall that much short of the average Purpendicular numbers, they don't work on the "album-framing" level I mentioned in the review for that album. To me, Abandon and Purpendicular are an excellent pair to illustrate why I feel that diversity can have a positive impact on an album's quality, and why a lack of diversity can act as a detriment (despite the protests of many that diversity should never be considered when deciding whether one likes an album or not). As weird as it may seem to read this, I don't feel that the quality of an individual track is the only important factor in deciding how good it is; rather, I also feel that it's important for a track to "stand out" in some way. In music, as in life, one of the best ways to stand out in a crowd is to either do something better than others around you do it, or at least to do it in a way that seems novel compared to what others around you may do. I mean, something like The Aviator isn't the most brilliant soft pop ballad ever written, but it sounds soooo nice on Purpendicular, simply because of the contrast it provides to the other songs. On Abandon, alas, everything is *POUND* *POUND* *POUND*, and after a while all of the pounding kinda starts to sound the same.

Still, I don't want give the wrong impression. I like this album more than not, and won't give it a low rating. More than anything, it sounds like the work of a young band that's figured out its ideal sound, but hasn't totally mastered the various nuances of songwriting yet ... which is ironic given that the band is 30 years old by now. If you like the idea of Purple sounding great, even if it's great in a tough-to-listen way, pick this up.

Seriously, for all of the positive reviews that I read regarding this album upon release, hailing it as an astonishing comeback, I still had my doubts before I finally got this nice and cheap. So imagine my surprise when I ended up loving the first track so much that I just kept playing it over and over. I mean, I'm not Mr. Mid-Tempo-Rocker-Lover over here, but I just friggin' adore House of Pain. It honestly reminds me more of AC/DC than Purple (thanks both to the silly backing vocals and the fact that Gillan sounds eerily like Brian Johnson), but the great organ and guitar passages in conjunction with the awesome riff are enough to remind me completely that it's Purple I'm listening to. Yeah, it's sorta nostalgic, sounding just like a high-quality generic 70's rocker would, but let's remember that Purple wasn't that great at generic mid-tempo rockers even in their heyday (their specialty was speed, after all), so it's a remarkable accomplishment nonetheless.

Now, a cynical person might assume from the opening track that the rest of the album is just cheap nostalgia, a way to cash in on the sound of 70's Purple and that era of hard rock in general. Amazingly enough, this isn't the case at all, but it's not a limp attempt to keep up with modern trends either. It's "just" a solid effort that shows the band realizing something that I've mentioned before on this site: the best way to make a good album is to avoid making a bad one. The band knows exactly what it can and cannot do, and acts accordingly; it maximizes the band's strengths, it doesn't write any checks the band can't cash, and it never lets up its moderately entertaining level. Now, to be fair, I guess that one could almost consider that a case of the band "cheating" by aiming lower, but let's be serious here - exactly what were the chances of the band being able to revolutionize and redefine the metal world again, like they had with In Rock? Abandon was arguably an attempt to do just that, and I sure remember how that turned out. I like quality, and Bananas sure qualifies.

For the hard-rocker in me, there's plenty of quality selections to be found, to be sure. Sun Goes Down, with its good share of ominous, discordant organ over the alternately funky and Abandonesque guitar lines, is one, where even the occasional silly lyric blends in well. Razzle-Dazzle is another (fun fun rock), Silver Tongue and Picture of Innocence would have knocked Purpendicular up a notch at least, as could I Got Your Number, and the title track is such a ridiculously enjoyable fun groove (despite the guitar-organ interplay sounding pretty ominous on its own) that it's nearly impossible for me to get tired of it. None of these are Speed King, but none of them are Lick it Up either, and that says something right there. Sheesh, even a song as hilariously titled as Doing It Tonight is fun to listen to on this album!

Of course, the band isn't made up of a bunch of young men, so it's only natural that there would be some softer numbers to remind us that they're kinda old. The good news is that the numbers in this regard remind me only that the band is mature, and not that they're a bunch of old men who wish they weren't. Haunted would probably be a rotten song if it weren't so good, a song that succeeds with Ian's worn vocals where it might have failed with a 'better' singer. Then again, it might not have failed anyway, as it ends up moving me in a way that Sometimes I Feel Like Screaming never could. In any case, I'm also a big fan of the smoky, slinky blues of Walk On. It's funny, really - I remembered the AMG mentioning in its review of this album saying about one of the songs that it is, "downright smoky-bar slinky-sexy, and if the band doesn't add it to every one of their encores for the rest of their career they're nuts." Now, it turns out that the song they were talking about was Doing it Tonight, yet when I listened to the album, I assumed that they had to be talking about Walk On. Old man white blues, yes, but of the highest calibre, and that's good enough for me.

Throw in a nice quiet near-instrumental (Never a Word) and a short instrumental (Contact Lost), and I have everything I could want out of a late-period Purple album: a bunch of good songs in a bunch of good styles. Heck, even Gillan doesn't annoy me! Perfect!

Part of the problem is that, for the first time since Slaves and Masters, the opening track isn't an obvious highlight. Once the ominous distorted organ chords that introduce Money Talks are out of the way, and the actual song is playing, I just can't help but think, "Yup, the magic's gone." The band tightly plays a crunchy, kinda intricate riff, Ian half-sings, half-speaks, and occasionally bends his voice in an Eastern way a la Perfect Strangers, there are ok solo passages, and every single moment feels completely rote. Same goes for the rest of the first side; I can't accuse the band of turning every track into gloppy formula, like on Battle, but for the first time I feel like the Morse version of the band doesn't have much of a purpose in this here world of ours (whereas Bananas was practically a textbook example of the proper way for old people to rock without sounding like idiots). To be fair, though, the only track in the first half that I out-and-out hate is the mushy ballad Clearly Quite Absurd (Haunted this is not), and if I want to I can ignore the laziness of the songwriting or the perfunctory nature of the guitar pyrotechnics and focus on the rhythm section, still banging away as well as ever.

The second half is markedly better, though certainly no great shakes. Back to Back is a perfectly decent funky hard-rocker that could even be a minor classic were it not for Don Airey using some awfully 80's-sounding synths to underpin the instrumental parts in the intro and chorus, and then inexplicably turning into post-70's Rick Wakeman in the lengthy guitar-keyboard wank passage. Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye is another funky hard-rocker that's much better, one that sounds an awful lot like it could have come from the band's 70's hey-day (think Pictures of Home), which might lead to me griping about cheap nostalgia were it not for the fact that it sounds twice as inspired as pretty much anything else on the album. MTV is an amusing ranting, not against the song's namesake as you might suspect, but against all of the problems with classic rock radio in general (not playing any new stuff by the artists it features, not bothering to even learn how to pronounce the names of the people in the band, being mostly concerned with getting good ID soundbites, annoyingly narrow playlists); it would be a great song if the actual instrumental parts didn't sound as awkward as they do. Junkyard Blues is a decent blues jam with some nice piano parts, and the closing epic Before Time Began, while nothing to write home about, at least manages to more or less not embarrass itself too badly.

All in all, then, while there are almost no songs that I'd call bad, there's just so many songs that give me a feeling of "meh" that I really can't give it anything above a 6/10. I'm glad that the band is still putting out albums, and that they don't yet sound completely incompetent, but that's not exactly the highest compliment I can dish out.