Revisiting One of Testament’s More Divisive Albums 35 Years Later with Practice What You Preach
It’s easy to talk about an album that blows your mind, one that resonates deeply with you and sticks around for a long time. It’s also easy to talk about the ones that just plain suck; in both cases, a clearly defined emotional response has been evoked, so it’s not hard to delve into why you did or didn’t enjoy it. But what about the ones that fall somewhere in the middle? Or, better yet, what about the ones that somehow manage to land on both sides of the spectrum at the same time? Now that’s where it gets interesting.
I have a hot take when it comes to Testament’s third album Practice What You Preach, which came out on this day in the faraway yesteryear of 1989. So go ahead and find someplace comfortable, because you’re gonna want to be sitting down for this one. Okay, brace yourselves, here it comes: it’s good.
Shock, awe, pandemonium in the streets. I know that was a lot, but bear with me.
This album has a lot going for it. For one thing, the opening title track is an absolute classic, one of my personal all-time favorite Testament songs. It’s full of upbeat and infectious grooves, the leads are tastefully written, and the lyrics are very insightful, which makes them that much more impactful when delivered by Chuck Billy’s signature rasping yet strangely melodic voice, which, for my money, is one of the best in all of thrash metal. Quintessential, even. Outside of the hit single, Practice also has one of the clearest and most prominent bass tones of its time, giving bassist Greg Christian plenty of well-deserved time in the spotlight alongside the rest of his bandmates.
A large part of Testament’s staying power can be attributed to their consistently tight and creative string section, regardless of the significant number of lineup changes they’ve undergone. That being said, this album is one of many helmed by the iconic original dream team of Eric Peterson and Alex Skolnik, both of whom are visionaries with a knack for defying expectations while still operating comfortably within the confines of the genre, especially when it comes to the solos. Plenty of people can shred, but Skolnik’s jazz and classical influences in particular often compel them to take things in unexpected directions which pretty much always pay off beautifully, and that puts the band as a whole a step above the competition. Pair that with a skilled bassist like Christian and make sure all of his best parts are featured heavily in the mix, and you’ve got a recipe for success.
The closing instrumental track “Confusion Fusion” is a particularly excellent display of the delicate interplay between all three of these instruments. When it first starts it sounds like the beginning of a punk song, but then, once the guitars fade in and start to take the reins, suddenly the entire dynamic has changed even though nothing was taken away, only added on top of what was already there. All they did was lay the foundation and then gradually shift the focus elsewhere, and it works tremendously. These are some serious musicians, not a bunch of denim-clad Johnny-come-latelies.
So then, why the famously mixed reception? How does an album that both starts and ends so strongly foster such division amongst their fanbase? Well, in a word- inconsistency. There are plenty of killer riffs and fun moments on this album, but there are a number of weak links in the chain as well; not that any of it is objectively bad, per se, but a lot of it just doesn’t live up to the high standards that we all know this band are capable of meeting.
Like so many albums before and after it, Practice What You Preach suffers from a pretty noticeable drop-off in momentum after a couple of songs, even losing steam towards the end of the second track “Perilous Nation”. The following song “Envy Life” might as well be straight up glam metal, if not for a couple of extended growls from Billy to provide something of an anchor. It sounds like the kind of song you’d hear in a scene from Road House or something, and don’t get me wrong, I like the cheesy stuff like that when the time is right, but I have to be in the mood for it.
After that things start to gain some traction again, culminating in the album’s halfway point with the high-octane shred-fest that is “Blessed In Contempt”. From there, the momentum doesn’t taper off quite as much as it did before, but there is a plateau of sorts throughout most of the second half. If nothing else, the pacing is broken up nice and evenly by the expediently titled “The Ballad” (kudos to whoever thought up that absolute bullseye), and despite having to wade through a considerable amount of filler to get there, it does manage to at least end on a very strong note.
In short, there are a lot of mixed feelings about Practice What You Preach, and the complaints are valid, but even in spite of its blemishes and lukewarm moments, the good parts are still worth sticking it out for, and there are plenty of them. Testament are a band with a long, dense history filled with all manner of ups and downs, but they’ve always leaned into it with grit and undeniable chops, so in a way this album actually represents them quite well. Their sound is a little different now, and it took a bit of a winding path to eventually circle back to where it is today, but this album is an excellent snapshot of the headspace that the band were in at the time. They were still trying to figure out exactly who they were, but they knew they had what it took to set the world on fire all the same. Looking around, I’d say they did a pretty damn good job, all things considered.
