Hear the 1999 Record in Audiophile Sound: Mobile Fidelity’s Numbered-Edition 180g 45RPM 2LP Plays with Stellar Dynamics, Comes Housed in a Stoughton Gatefold Jacket
1/2” / 30 IPS analog master to DSD 256 to analog console to lathe
Vengeance is sweet. Dismissed by some insiders due to vocalist Scott Weiland’s legal issues, and viewed by many critics as a band that rode the coattails of its predecessors, Stone Temple Pilots fired a loud shot across the bow in 1999 in the form of No. 4. Blending the strengths of the quartet’s three prior LPs while marking a return to its hard-rock roots, the platinum-certified record stands as the heaviest and edgiest of the California ensemble’s career. That it succeeded while flying in the face of prevailing trends underlines its historic significance and appeal.
Sourced from the original analog tapes, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing, and housed in a Stoughton gatefold jacket, Mobile Fidelity’s numbered-edition 180g 45RPM 2LP set presents No. 4. in audiophile sound for the first time on vinyl. With exceptional groove definition, quiet surfaces, and black backgrounds, this collectible edition plays with enhanced liveliness, balance, and solidity that raise the profile of an album that doubled down on rock during a time when most of the style’s practitioners abandoned it in favor of electronic elements or quit the scene entirely.
Helmed by the band’s go-to producer, Brendan O’Brien, No. 4 makes a big noise. The thick crunch of the guitars, bang and crash of the drums, fluid textures of the bass, and lingering echo of the studio space: All are conveyed with newly revealed immediacy, presence, and scope on this reissue, which also delivers the music’s punch and power with visceral impact. Other aspects that tremendously benefit from the restoration: The tenor, attitude, grain, and pitch of Weiland’s versatile voice. While partially obscured or collapsed on prior pressings, imaging and separation come into full view on this version.
Despite its general back-to-basics nature, No. 4 contains a wealth of colors, dynamics, and subtle accents that demand careful unpacking and transparent resolution. Nothing more so than the wide-spanning sounds and sizable footprints of the guitars and percussion. Massive riffs drive sledgehammer tracks such as the grinding “Down,” stormy “Heaven & Hot Rods,” stomping “No Way Out,” and vitriolic “Sex & Violence.” The latter is as close as Stone Temple Pilots ever came to garage-rock territory. The aforementioned cuts and several others bulldoze and plow, their muscular arrangements caked with rich sludge and aluminum tones, their sinister moods draped in distortion.
Even as they embrace aggression and toughness, Stone Temple Pilots don’t overlook the importance of sticky hooks and accessible melodies. The springboard motions of the pop-streaked “Church on Tuesday” and shuffling patterns of the dreamy “Sour Girl,” the group’s biggest-ever Billboard single, spotlight the ace songwriting chemistry between Weiland and guitarist Robert DeLeo. Ditto the lush “Glide,” a spacy nod to the ‘70s glam movement. It features Weiland singing at the top of his range and, for good measure, a folksy outro steered by an otherworldly zither. And let’s not forget the closing “Atlanta,” a mini-epic complete with a formal string section and spry tunefulness that echoes the Rodgers and Hammerstein standard “My Favorite Things.”
Stone Temple Pilots also briefly dial it back and hint at optimism on “I Got You,” a country-tinged ditty sent up with pedal-steel guitar, six-string bass, and piano. Yet No. 4 unmistakably remains a creation of its circumstances. While the album’s edgy sonic character speaks to the gaping holes left by artists who abandoned rock to chase the latest crazes, the lyrical themes relate to Weiland’s problems and addictions.
Recorded after the singer spent time in jail for drug violations, No. 4 doesn’t shy from dark desires or wallowing despair. Most narratives seemingly read as confessions and pleas. They concern personal loss, chemical abuse, toxic impulses, and desperate struggles. Weiland addresses everything head on without gloss or protective shielding, the painful disclosures — “I used to love me but I hate me now”; “troubled times, when my mind begins to wander to the spoon”; “I got the message but I lost the race”; “son of a bitch, I know what the itch is like”; “keep it away now, motherfucker, keep it away” — jibing with the band’s omnipresent snarl.
Having climbed to No. 6 on the charts amid a de-fanged mainstream era that rewarded boy bands and pin-up pop stars, No. 4 may not be Stone Temple Pilots’ most commercially successful effort. But it remains their most uncompromising. And that status that arguably carries more weight than any other.
