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**Baroness - Purple ★★★★☆**

There's something almost mythical about the circumstances that birthed Baroness's fourth full-length, *Purple*. After the Georgian metal outfit's tour bus careened off a viaduct in Bath, England in August 2012, leaving frontman John Baizley with a mangled left arm and the entire band battered and traumatised, many wondered if they'd ever make music again. The fact that *Purple* exists at all feels like a minor miracle – that it stands as one of their finest achievements borders on the supernatural.

The intervening years saw seismic shifts within the Baroness camp. Half the band departed, citing the physical and psychological toll of the crash, leaving Baizley and drummer Sebastian Thomson to rebuild from the wreckage. Enter guitarist Gina Gleason and bassist Nick Jost, whose fresh blood courses through *Purple*'s ten tracks like electricity through copper wire. This isn't merely a comeback album – it's a complete reinvention, a phoenix rising from the twisted metal of that fateful coach.

Musically, *Purple* finds Baroness pushing further into the progressive metal territory they'd been exploring since 2012's *Yellow & Green*, but with a newfound urgency that their earlier, more methodical approach sometimes lacked. The sludge metal foundations that built their reputation remain, but they're now adorned with intricate melodic passages, soaring vocal harmonies, and a rhythmic complexity that demands repeated listening. Baizley's vocals, always the band's secret weapon, have evolved from the harsh bark of their early work into something more nuanced – a instrument capable of both crushing weight and surprising tenderness.

Opening salvo "Morningstar" announces their return with characteristic bombast, its churning riffs and thunderous percussion creating an almost overwhelming wall of sound before dissolving into delicate, finger-picked passages that showcase the band's expanded dynamic range. It's a mission statement wrapped in seven minutes of controlled chaos, immediately establishing that this isn't the same band that nearly died on that English roadside.

The album's undisputed masterpiece, "Chlorine & Wine," stands as perhaps the finest song in Baroness's catalogue. Built around a hypnotic guitar motif that wouldn't sound out of place on a Neurosis record, it gradually unfolds into an epic meditation on survival and renewal. Baizley's lyrics – "I have waited so long to feel this way again" – carry obvious autobiographical weight, but the song's true power lies in its musical architecture, the way it builds from whispered confession to triumphant declaration across its eight-minute runtime.

Equally impressive is "The Purple," the album's centrepiece and longest track. Here, Baroness demonstrate their mastery of the quiet-loud dynamic, moving seamlessly between passages of crystalline beauty and crushing heaviness. Gleason's guitar work particularly shines, her playing adding a new dimension to the band's sound without sacrificing their essential character. The song serves as both the album's emotional core and its most adventurous musical statement.

"Desperation Burns" and "Fugue" showcase the rhythm section's newfound chemistry, with Thomson's drumming providing a foundation both powerful and subtle, while Jost's bass work adds crucial low-end heft without overwhelming the intricate guitar interplay. These aren't merely replacement musicians – they're integral to *Purple*'s success, bringing fresh perspectives to a band that could have easily retreated into comfortable formulas.

The production, handled by Dave Fridmann (known for his work with The Flaming Lips and Mercury Rev), deserves particular praise. He's captured both the band's crushing power and their newfound subtlety, allowing space for every instrument to breathe while maintaining the density that makes Baroness so compelling. The mix feels both immediate and expansive, drawing listeners into its sonic landscape.

Nearly a decade on, *Purple* has rightfully taken its place among the essential progressive metal albums of the 2010s. It proved that Baroness could survive tragedy and emerge stronger, that they could evolve without abandoning their core identity. More importantly, it established them as one of the few bands capable of genuine artistic growth in a genre often content with recycling its own past.

The album's legacy extends beyond its musical achievements – it stands as testament to the power of perseverance, creativity, and the healing properties of heavy music. That something so beautiful could emerge from such darkness feels like the best possible argument for rock and roll's continued relevance.