SPLAT!

Deep Purple have occupied a pantheon of heavy rock royalty for decades, defined by a muscular fusion of Hammond organ majesty and hard-edged guitar pyrotechnics. However, their latest offering, "SPLAT!", suggests a profound disconnect from the very elements that forged their identity. Rather than a revitalised statement of intent, the album presents as a thinning of their sonic palette, where the sharp edges of their classic hard rock aesthetic have been buffed smooth by an overly polite production style.

From the opening moments of "Arrogant Boy", it is evident that the textures here are far more recessed than previous efforts. The core chemistry remains, but it feels insulated behind a thick layer of contemporary sheen. The transition into "Diablo" and "The Rider" highlights a preference for atmosphere over impact; the arrangements are spacious, yet they feel empty rather than intentional. Where there should be a visceral punch, there is instead a lingering, muted resonance that fails to ignite the listener's pulse.

SPLAT! feels less like a triumphant evolution and more like a weary, over-produced retreat into an indistinct sonic fog.

"The Lunatic" and "The Only Horse In Town" attempt to lean into more melodic, ethereal territories, but they suffer from a lack of conviction. The melodic arcs are present, but the performances feel strangely detached, as if the musicians are navigating the tracks rather than inhabiting them. The production choices on these tracks muffle the inherent grit of the instrumentation, leaving the listener with a sense of distance that creates a barrier between the music and the emotive core of the songwriting.

As the mid-album stretch progresses with "Sacred Land" and "The Beating Of Wings", the sense of exhaustion becomes palpable. The compositions begin to lean heavily on repetitive motifs to sustain momentum, a choice that feels like a concession to the expansive runtime. "Guilt Trippin'" and "Scriblin' Gib'rish" suffer from a lack of dynamic contrast, drifting through a mid-tempo haze that fails to provide the necessary peaks and troughs required to sustain a compelling narrative across the seventy-minute arc.

Technically, the album is polished to a high shine, yet it is this very polish that undermines the aesthetic value of the work. On "Jessica's Bra" and "Third Call", the subtle production nuances—the way a note decays or the slight overdrive on a lead line—are buried under a blanket of clean, and ultimately uninspiring, processing. The sonic depth is shallow, and the emotional weight that once grounded their hard rock roots has evaporated in the studio.

"My New Movie" offers a momentary flash of what might have been, but it is quickly smothered by the concluding track, "Splat!". The final piece serves as a bleak summation of the album's trajectory; it is an overlong, turgid conclusion that feels more like an indulgent exercise in self-indulgence than a definitive closing statement. The energy is drained, and the ambition seems to have withered under the pressure of reaching for a broader, softer appeal.

Ultimately, "SPLAT!" is a disappointing detour for a band with such a storied history. It feels less like a bold leap forward and more like a graceful, if somewhat sad, retreat into a safe, diluted territory. By smoothing away the rough edges that gave Deep Purple their legendary teeth, they have produced a collection of songs that are pleasant enough in isolation but ultimately devoid of the fire that defines their legacy. It is a pale imitation of their former power, leaving the listener longing for the raw, unapologetic heavy rock that once shook the foundations of the genre.", Out of curiosity, it is as if the band has traded their roaring engine for a polished exterior that looks grand from a distance but lacks the internal combustion to truly move.