This is the LP that finally put to rest Procol Phase One. Home, their previous effort, still sounded much like the first three LPs, with the "Gothic" organ very much a presence, even without Matthew Fisher at the keyboard.
With Broken Barricades, however, two things became clear: Gary Brooker's voice and piano could easily become the dominant musical force, and Robin Trower's guitar was almost as important; the organ sound now slipped quietly into the background--in fact, the then-new sound of the synthesizer was more important in providing a different sort of keyboard to juxtapose against Brooker's piano--and Brooker now often used an electric piano, sometimes in addition to the standard one.
There isn't a weak song in the program. Simple Sister, the single taken from the LP, is a tour-de-force of almost manic dimensions, the orchestra used sparingly but effectively to propel, rather than just adorn, the quartet. The title song comes as a quiet respite after the gale of the opening track. Song to a Dreamer is one of the last truly psychedelic songs, as Robin pays homage to Jimi Hendrix. Luskus Delph is probably the wittiest song Procol ever created, with the lubricious lyrics in total contradistinction to the elegance of the musical setting.
But it's the rockers that define this disc: the aforementioned Simple Sister sets the pace, but Power Failure pushes it even farther. Originally the lead-off track on side two of the LP, it features one of the only truly interesting drum solos on record (always self-deprecatory, BJ can be heard yelling "Rubbish" as the song resumes). Memorial Drive features a bluesy, sinuous melody that is propelled by Trower's guitar and Brooker's electric piano, one in each speaker; the acoustic piano provides a nice solo. Blues is the inspiration for Playmate of the Mouth, too, but it's a raunchier, earthier blues with very appropriate accompaniment from the brass. Poor Mohammed is the last track on the original LP, and Trower reverts to his own version of the blues shouter, the very un-PC lyric anticipating Salman Rushdie by several decades.
The bonus tracks aren't particularly revelatory on this release--tribute to just how tight the band had become by this stage. It seems typical of the Procol luck that, just as they found their groove, Robin Trower decided to go solo. They wouldn't sound this good again until Exotic Birds and Fruit, over three years later.