1969 is a turning point for Iron Butterfly. They’d been gaining popularity, and their previous album,In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida pushed them over the top. From there, I feel the band begins to crumble. Sure, Ball is a decent album. It certainly is more varied than what the band had done before. Their experimentation, however refining, paradoxically made them more bland. To me at least, part of their appeal is the lumbering passion. Here, it begins to diffuse, not always jarringly, but unfortunately.
I’d definately recommend their earlier albums first as great. This one, only good and afterwards.