Vincent Crane is a name familiar to people who likely have never heard his music, such was/is his rep as the 800-lb gorilla of Hammond players: Atomic Rooster, born following his departure from The Crazy World Of Arthur Brown, was primarily his showcase through whose revolving doors many, many musicians came and went, some of interest to progressivistas (Carl Palmer, John du Cann), some of note to Britrock fans in general (Chris Farlowe, Pete French, Nick Graham), but none staying long enough to impose a clear direction for this band. Even Crane's rollicking piano and fat, full organ tone set the pace but don't dictate the fractions. This is borne out over the course of IN SATAN'S NAME, a 2cd comp of the first six lps put out by the British Snapper/Recall label (an interesting budget label that specializes in comps of some overlooked bands, PFM, the Ozrics, and post-Mott Mick Ronson being three others.) The first four albums are lightly sampled on Disc 1 (don't worry - "Death Walks Behind You" is there) while Disc 2 is Chris Farlowe-fronted albums 5 & 6 practically in their entirety. You might think this split shortchanges the prog-rock fan, but there's nothing very progressive about any of the incarnations, entertaining though they are: this Rooster doesn't so much cross the road as swerves crazily all over it. Throughout this comp they veer from evil Gothic hard rock a la an organ-heavy Black Sabbath, to more of an early Birth Control sound, finally to an unsteady mix of Capt Beyond & Blood Sweat & Tears. Now, I should stress there's nothing terrible on either disc; in fact, if you're partial to the 69-73 era, there's a lot to like in a minor key. Crane's sound is at its peak of power and confidence; the arrangements are simple but solid; it's all solidly-throbbing rock music of a certain vintage and level of professionalism that satisfies without exactly getting your heart racing (which is probably a good thing, cause if this cd brings back good memories, you're old enuf to be have begun worrying about palpitations anyway); for sure, any diehard Hammond B & C fan will be in hog heaven wallowing in these two hours of Crane-ial surgery. (Alas, a broke, dispirited, heavily-drinking Crane committed suicide at age 45 in 1989 after one too many Atomic Rooster comeback dreams fell through: another of rock's small tragedies that you shouldn't hold your breath waiting for BEHIND THE MUSIC to cover.) In all, this is one I enjoy with an asterisk and a bit of a guilty conscience. Let's call it judiciously recommended to 70s scholars and graybeards who know better than to expect "Selling England By The Pound" here.