Kingdom Come

Kingdom Come's second, self-titled album is the most lighthearted of their three long-players, which isn't saying much; even Kingdom Come at their lightest were hardly jolly. But there are undeniably less heavy, gothic progressive metal tendencies at work here, and more of a sense of playfulness. All told, though, it could — like the other Kingdom Come releases — hardly be considered commercial, and certainly be considered at least a little chaotic, indeed sometimes very chaotic. The mood varies from quasi-music hall ("The Teacher") and low comedy ("A Scientific Experiment Featuring 'Lower Colonic Irrigation'," in which Arthur Brown sounds as if he's eager to quite literally defecate over his brief run at rock stardom) to pompously melodic progressive rock ("The Whirlpoool"), quasi-classical ritual ("The Hymn," "City Melody"), and rather soothing jazzy operatic crooning. It's unpredictably broken up by Frank Zappa-esque audio vйritй collage and some quite virtuosic guitar and keyboard riffing that wouldn't sound too out of place on a Yes record. It's fairly intriguing in a way, like being transported to an alternate universe where nothing but weird prog-avant-rock stuff comes out of the car radio when you spin the dial. At the same time, there's a sense of an album in vain search of a coherent concept, delving unreservedly into the metaphysical mysteries of life without a compass, and certainly without a set list or, usually, hummable tunes. [The 2003 CD reissue on Castle adds alternate versions of "Traffic Light Song," "The Hymn," and "A Scientific Experiment Featuring 'Lower Colonic Irrigation'."]