Music That Disappoints: Deep Purple

There are plenty of rage inspiring moments in modern music. Lots of angry disillusion, repetitive frustration and a constant supply of "what the fuck is this?" moments. Tune into VH-1 for more than a few moments at time can give you plenty of things to be upset about. But today we're talking about disappointment, and disappointment is a different beast entirely. It's a bitter pain, one that constantly reminds you of how great things could've been, if not for that "one thing." And that can encompass a great deal. A lousy guitar player taking one too many solos, generic songwriting overshadowing otherwise quality vocals, or as was the case with many big name bands in the 80's, great music being supported by a drummer who was constantly missing the beat. All things that constantly foul up otherwise acceptable musicianship, and cause a great sense of letdown in the listener.

Nothing captures that sense of disappointment for me quite like Deep Purple's album "Machine Head." This is a group for that for all intensive purposes, I should be blasting out of my stereo proudly and without regret. I should be shameless in my needs for a bit of "Space Truckin'." I shouldn't have to hum "Hush" quietly to myself out of fear that people might hear me. But I do. I do it constantly, and not even for the right reasons.

The breakup of lineup after line up was tolerable. Having Steve Morse fill Richie Blackmore's shoes while Blackmore went all goofy mid evil with the frilly shirts and acoustic guitars stung deeply, but one could survive it. The damage I speak of was inflicted in their heyday. The glory days of Purp, where they were breaking world records with ear splitting volume, and over played instruments were still the name of the game. It was in those fine halcyon days of sound that my disappointment is seeded.

Musically, DP was top notch. Several of you can probably vouch for this, since I'm sure you've at one time owned a cassette of "Machine Head" that you've got packed away somewhere. The rest of you I'm sure have at least taken Purp 101, and ingested high doses of "Smoke On The Water." Admit it, you know you have. You may proudly say that Justin Timberlake is a god, or that everything before the Ramones was utter crap, but in your hearts, you ackowledge that those men made some damned righteous tunes. Big guitars and church organs spawning forth a hellish racket, the sounds they made were monumentally huge. A heart rate of epic proportions was required as you tried to match whatever you were doing to such grandiose musicianship. Everything just sounded bigger in their world.

Now if only they could have written some lyrics to match that intensity, then we'd be in business.

Purp's greatest crime, is that the words penned to the music in that album never quite matched the sonic fury we were given. In fact, 9 times out of 10, they were just dreadful. And it's insults me. I'm offended to be offered a platter of such great riffage, only to have the lyrics, the sheer substance of a tune, be bland and tasteless. I never expected Tolstoy, nor did I expect Dylan. But is it so wrong to have expected better?

I'm sure everyone's read the lyric sheets off of "Smoke On The Water" enough times to be generally disappointed in the true substance of the song. When the chorus slams in with a barrage of cymbals, and the words "Smooooooke on the water," are uttered in cacophonous unison, the mind reels at the possibilities. They could be talking about dragons maybe? Dragons were pretty popular in the seventies. Or how about the A Bomb? Nuclear war is pretty damned scary. Perhaps they found a way to capture the huge amount of damage and destruction of this device with electric guitars.

Hell, it didn't even have to be either of my ideas. Just so long as it wasn't anything so mediocre like "Yeah, so our hotel caught on fire while we were trying to record, and it was inconvenient. But we got lucky and were able to keep recording, so things were cool again." That would just be silly.

"I won't even get into "Space Truckin'." The less said about shit like that, the better.

I think the day I realized how truly disgusted I was with them was on the usual drive home when in an unusual circumstance, I had the radio on. After fast food commercials and an annoying DJ paddling on in the usual bullshit fashion, I was treated to Purp's "Highway Star."

And if you've never heard that song, let me say this, the intro is incredible. Droning on the G, more instrumental ingredients are added to the stew little by little, making the build up fantastic, until finally, in an explosion of greatness, you hear BUM! BUUUMMM! And then, the words. a furious voice singing, "Nobody gonna..."

It's the ultimate protest song! A mix of poor grammar and adolescent fury. Attach those words to any sentence, and the world will truly know you are not a force to be fucked with. This man could say so many things right now. He could go enviromental, "Nobody gonna rape my world," Stoke the social relations button, "Nobody gonna oppress me," or just nuzzle at the testosterone meat of his fellow man, "Nobody gonna keep me down." Anything would be fantastic.

Anything, but what we ended up getting. "Nobody gonna take my car."

A car? A fucking automobile? That's what all that build up was about? I feel swindled. My heart rate was spiking, and I had fists clenched ready to take on all comers, and it turns out you're just bragging about your ride.

And I love cars, I really do. There's always been a special place in my heart for every auto I've driven, even the old clunkers that could barely make it up a hill. I appreciate my ability to be mobilized by internal combustion. But singing a song similar to a war anthem to any of them just feels weird. Nobody gonna take my car? Hold a gun to my head, you'd be surprised how quickly you can have it. And why the absolutes? Isn't part of having a car to facilitate finding a woman? Hell, a woman is being sung about in the very next set of verses, so it's clear that it's part of the equation. What happens when you start a family, and suddenly the aforementioned beast on four wheels can't accommodate a baby seat? Seems to me someone's gonna be taking your car very soon. In fact, you'll probably be giving the thing away, otherwise you're sleeping on the couch buster.

Granted, I'm not a car song guy in general, but there are better marks out there that represent the genre better. Queen sang "I'm in love with my car." I can live with that. It's strange of course, but at least it's passionate. This just feels braggy, and in a song with such a furious groove, braggy offends.

The song doesn't improve in the remaining verses. He hypes up the car, then talks about his chick and how well he bangs her. Then suddenly, his mind becomes an impenetrable fortress that is unattainable to us mere mortals, because he achieved a state of zen via speed. Considering everything you've just told me, you really expect me to believe your mind is that deep?


From that day forth, I swore off the Purp. I couldn't do it anymore. Listening to their stuff felt like bedding a beautiful woman with a well groomed mustache. Look past it all you want, but it's there, waiting to remind you of it's existence every time you kiss. And what's sad is there was potential for improvement. If you ever dabbled in the self titled album of theirs, you'd hear some well constructed verses. Not magnificent poetry by any means, but tunes like "April" or "Bird Has Flown" were at least solid attempts. And such things could be forgiven on a first attempt. Hell, it could only get better right?

Instead, it degrades. Withers into an emulsified pulp that panders to the lowest denominators. It sounds like the parties involved said "Eh, it really doesn't matter what we say, nobody's paying attention anyways." Sadly, we were all paying attention, and to this day, no one can listen to any of the greatest hits without chuckling.

I know I'll forever wear my disappointment. You could have been the great fire. A crucial element in my musical development that fueled me to bigger and better heights. As it turned out, I had to rely on the poetic qualities of bands like Metallica to carry me through my heydays...

Of course, this is the same Metallica that wrote "Fuel."