Call it heavy metal, call it Dungeons and Dragons Rock, call it whatever you want; Ritchie Blackmore’s post-Deep Purple band Rainbow melded neo-classical rock riffs to swords and sorcery imagery to produce—especially on their sophomore release, 1976’s Rising—music that was a necessary addition to any teenage stoner’s 8-track collection. Because this shit sounded extreme, man, coming out of the open window of your bitchin’ Camaro in the high school parking lot.
Me, I was never down with Rainbow in my misspent youth, just as I was never down with Deep Purple. I thought Rising, and its predecessor 1975’s Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow, were just plain dumb. But I’m here to recant. I mean, Rising IS dumb, but it also rocks balls, and at its best meets Led Zeppelin on their own terms, and holds its own. Sure, Rainbow vocalist Ronnie James Dio’s fantasy lyrics are risible, but so are plenty of Robert Plant’s fantasy lyrics, as anybody who has ever tried to figure out exactly what “if there’s a bustle in the hedgerow don’t be alarmed now, it’s just a spring clean for the May queen” will tell you.
Having had a chance to listen to both Deep Purple and Rainbow, I can tell you I prefer the latter for several reasons. First, Rainbow kept their songs shorter; no 20 plus minute excursions for these fellas. Second, I prefer Tony Carey’s keyboards to those of Jon Lord, which I always found too heavy and intrusive. Finally, Rainbow never possessed the pure lack of introspection it took to release an album entitled Come Taste the Band. Oh, and I can’t listen to “Smoke on the Water” without wanting that “stupid with a flare gun” to fire shots into both my ears.
I’m not going to lie to you; at their worst, Rainbow sound a lot like Spinal Tap, and this is especially true of opener “Tarot Woman.” I have a simple rule; any metal song with the word “woman” in it is likely to be a terrible song, and from Carey’s anachronistic synthesizer opening (they didn’t have ‘em in the Middle Ages!) to Dio’s overheated vocals and bad lyrics this one doesn’t cause me to revise my theory. I mean, it could be far, far worse; Blackmore’s guitar solo is totally righteous, and the song moves along at a gallop, and I’ll take it over Deep Purple’s clunky “Woman From Tokyo” and terrible “Strange Kind of Woman” any day. As for “Run with the Wolf,” it’s more of a stomp than a run, thanks to Carey’s very Led Zep keyboards. Me, I wish the song was less choppy, but once again Blackmore’s baroque guitar shred, along with Cozy Powell’s drum work, redeem the number.
As for “Starstruck,” it really rocks once you’ve gotten past the unintentionally amusing lyrics about a unshakeable groupie named Lady Starstruck who’s “nothing but bad luck” (and if I’m listening correctly, an incorrigible collector of photos of rock stars’ penises), thanks largely to continuous forward momentum and one equally unshakeable guitar riff. As for “Do You Close Your Eyes,” it sounds like a fusion of Van Halen and the Zep, and boasts some big chops that would do either of those bands proud. Dio wants to know if you close your eyes when you’re making love, and I’ll be damned if I know why, but at least he’s not singing about Tarot cards or trolls or greensleeves or the man from the Silver Mountain.
“Stargazer” is the stand-out track, one you can stand up against any Led Zep track due in part to a big assist from the Munich Philharmonic Orchestra and in part to its vaguely Middle Eastern vibe. Meanwhile Dio actually kicks ass, and Blackmore plays a solo for the ages; he shreds, goes neo-classical on your ass, climbs to the stars, then plummets as the song returns to its monstrously cool central riff. Yep, this is pure baroque badass, and practically validates the dubious “Rainbow Konzept” all by itself.
And LP closer “A Light in the Back” is almost as good; it comes out of the starting gate at a gallop thanks to a barbaric riff and Blackmore’s slashing guitar. Meanwhile Dio is in top form, performing the kinds of vocal gymnastics that would come to personify metal music. Then Carey solos and I’ll be damned if he doesn’t bring down the house, only to be followed by Blackmore in total baroque mode, which if somebody told me about it I’d laugh, but actually, and I’ll be damned if I know how, works.
In 1997 Blackmore committed metalhead apostasy by forming a folk rock duo called Blackmore’s Night with his girlfriend Candice Night on vocals, and they proceeded to release LP after LP of what I call Renaissance Faire Music. I’d sooner lose a leg than listen to songs like “Allan Yn n Fan” and “Lorely,” which evoke images of leprechauns dancing around the sword in the stone, but that’s just me—some people actually lap this shit up, and they can’t all be the village idiot. Anyway, to get back to Rising, it’s a must own for any self-respecting metal fan, as is its predecessor, Blackmore’s Rainbow. Almost makes me wish I could relive my youth, and crank this shit up in the high school parking lot.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B
