With each new release since their 2007 debut, Red, Baroness has built a reputation for publishing better songs than albums. On their sophomore follow-up, Blue (2009), Baroness attempted a darker, heavier sound, blending influences of sludge and some kinda grind-type-thing that felt like a cartoonish sidekick to Mastodon's Leviathon. With Yellow & Green (2012), Baroness released two albums worth of slower, more emotive, methodically blended hard-rock that left most listeners wondering if Y&G was a conceptual project. The lack of cohesiveness across the packaged individual records, not to mention the entire project, firmly answer the concept question, but so did the meandering musical rabbit trails that seemed to have no damn clue where certain songs wanted to go. How could listeners plant both feet into Y&G when the band - or maybe their producers - had not? Y&G is not a complete disaster; nevertheless, a double-album offering four of five good tracks is hardly worth admission price.
Still, I am a Baroness fan, and I enjoy aspects of all their albums. For this reason, I was glad to spend time with Purple, released December 18, 2015 from the band's own label, Abraxan Hymns. Purple negates the old Baroness reputation: from cover to cover, with minor exceptions, Purple is a damn good album. Also, cohesively speaking, Purple works as a concept piece. It's impossible to fully engage Purple without considering the 2012 bus-crash that injured two members into early retirement and nearly stole guitarist / vocalist / artist John Baizely's ability to play and paint. After the crash, Baizley stated on the Official Baroness webpage: "I can say, after nearly 6 weeks of reflection, that I feel more resolute and passionate about our music than ever. I have come to realize the importance of time in this particular equation, that is, I have none to waste and none to spare." This urgency marks a primary hallmark of Purple's success.
Purple opens explosively with "Morningstar", satisfying the band's Mastodon crush. "Dry yours tears, my darling / There's a pistol-whipped look in your eyes / The captain was gentle / He left you alive." Baizley charges with an immediacy he's not yet possessed. His vocals contain greater diversity, even in a single track here, than he's previously challenged of himself. That being said, Baizley, at times on Purple, trades early Baroness screams for a more vulnerable singer-songwriter crooning that, even if it's not pretty, offers an authenticity that reminds listeners of what birthed this album. Such rawness can be heard on "Shock Me" (poppy finger-snapper) and "Kerosene" (cheesy hi-hat titter-tat opener bleeds into symphonic gang-chant: "When I am done / I'll lay in the sun". Super nice.). These solid tracks are unfortunately followed by Purple's weakest spot: the instrumental "Fugue", which invalidates its denotation while also detracting from the conceptual impact thus far. Odd choice.
The other high point of Purple is the new percussive line-up. Sebastian Thomas on drums and Nick Jost on bass together add a layered foundation beneath most tracks. Thomas' punk quick roots surface during particular intros and outros, calling listeners back to his bizarre complexity in the track's body. Jost's background as a jazz bassist is found in his improvisational nature. More than a repetitive rhythm keeper, Jost stomps around the track adding emotional transitions between various hooks and breaks. Tracks like "Try to Disappear" and "The Iron Bell" showcase Thomas and Jost's benefit to the band.
Still, the guttural punch of Purple lands in track six, just over the half-way point. "Chlorine and Wine" is Baroness at their best. A simple, pretty drum and guitar instrumental opener erupts into a battered catharsis of thickly layered riffs and crashes topped with Baizley's Walt Whitman-urgent "yawp." Then verse two. Jost's bass line opens wide. Verse three. Then Baizley and Peter Adam's dual layered guitar solo, punctuated by hi-hat ellipses and Jost's piano interlude. And then the band's gang-chant finale: "Please / Don't lay me down / Under the rocks where I've found / My place in the ground / Home for the fathers and sons." This is a fucking good track. Goose-bumps and fist-pumps from open to end. Religious music. Healing music. A song wielded as a weapon and tear-gagging belly-romp laugh in the face of death. Not yet, sucker. There's more to be done. And these guys are doing it.
