Released: June 7, 1994
Stone Temple Pilots went into Purple carrying a strange kind of baggage. Core had made them huge, but plenty of critics had already reduced the band to borrowed parts: a little Pearl Jam, a little Alice in Chains, another group working the Seattle sound from somewhere outside Seattle.
So how does a band get out from under those comparisons without abandoning the sound that made it successful?
Purple keeps the weight of Core, but no longer makes heaviness the centre of every song. “Meatplow” opens with thick guitar and Scott Weiland’s lower register, yet the band sounds looser inside the riff. Robert DeLeo’s bass slips around the guitar while Eric Kretz puts a subtle swing underneath it. The song hits hard without becoming stiff.
“Vasoline” pares everything down to a clipped, circling riff. “Lounge Fly” gets stranger, building around a warped rhythm loop before drifting into an acoustic middle section. The band expands through arrangement rather than simply adding more guitar.
“Interstate Love Song” shows how far Stone Temple Pilots had already travelled. The country-shaped opening, unusual chord movement, and melodic bass line sit well outside the blunt grunge template often placed around them. Weiland sings about the lies he was telling while making the album, but the melody remains warm and effortless. A beautiful song carries an ugly private truth.
Core introduced Weiland’s baritone. Purple gives him more roles. He growls through “Meatplow,” croons on “Big Empty,” sounds exposed on “Pretty Penny” and snaps through “Unglued.” His voice becomes part of the album’s range instead of another heavy instrument laid over the guitars.
The rest of the band moves just as freely. Recorded together in a living room, “Pretty Penny” replaces the electric attack with acoustic guitar and hand percussion. It doesn’t stop the album in its tracks. It shows that melody and atmosphere can hold the band together without distortion.
“Silvergun Superman” then drags the record back into a slow, grimy riff and a long, noisy ending. “Big Empty,” recorded before most of Purple and included on The Crow soundtrack, leaves wide spaces around its slide guitar before the chorus opens up. “Unglued” follows with a quick garage-rock burst, while “Army Ants” turns the guitars sharp and restless.
The songs cover plenty of ground, but they still sound connected. Dean and Robert DeLeo’s chord choices avoid the most direct routes. Robert’s bass regularly carries its own melody, while Kretz keeps the grooves steady without flattening them. Brendan O’Brien’s production leaves enough space to hear how much those details matter.
Even the ending tells us something about the band. “Kitchenware & Candybars” closes the proper album with a slow build and one of Weiland’s most wounded performances. Then the hidden lounge-music joke “My Second Album” wanders in and breaks the mood. Stone Temple Pilots could be dramatic, but they didn’t need to act solemn about it.
So how do they escape the comparisons attached to Core? They keep its heavy foundation and widen everything around it. Country, psychedelia, acoustic texture, pop melody, and Weiland’s shifting voice all pass through the same four musicians. By the end of Purple, no single borrowed influence can explain the band anymore.
Written by Rob Joncas for DeadNoteMedia.
Artist information and music courtesy of the band.
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