Maybe it’s possible to resist the temptation, the beginning of my time on earth being such a long time ago – in fact 19 August 1945, to be precise. By then two-fifths of my future life had already been born, which left just Roger Glover and Ian Paice to turn up. And I refer of course to Deep Purple, that enigmatic rock band I have always loved in torment. Jon Lord (keyboards; sadly, he died in July 2012), Roger Glover (bass), and Ian Paice (drums) are essentially moderate people with good hearts and only the normal amount of wickedness. Over the years, they have hovered somewhere near the fulcrum of a musical seesaw, while Ritchie Blackmore (guitar) and I (vocals) have danced precariously along the musical extremities.
I use that as an ongoing statement, because, although Ritchie left the band after the Helsinki show on 17 November 1993, following a much publicised incident at the Birmingham NEC a few days before, he will never be forgotten – never! He is vitally important to the whole spirit of Deep Purple – whilst it might also surprise some readers to know that I have no bad feelings towards him at all. I used to room with him in the early days, and over many turbulent years – some exquisite, and some not so – I learned to love and admire his supreme musicianship and stage presence; plus, I had some great times with him on many occasions.
Of course, Ritchie’s perception of me may well be different, because he’s on the record as saying that ‘one of these days, when we’re on the road, I’m going to attack Ian Gillan in a back alley. He’s bigger than me and probably a better fighter, so I’ll have to do it with a few friends.’ Then he’s cunningly added, ‘Because it’ll be dark, he won’t know I’m also there’! Well I’d prefer to think he was just being dramatic, but it was certainly all wrong during the period when I rejoined the band at the Red Rooster Studio in Munich in 1992, for The Battle Rages On, and where I learned early on that Ritchie had told Anders Tengner he’d wanted to bring somebody different in. However, the better news was that the others had voted him down, although he was no less encouraging when we met to look at the material I’d inherited from the band and its outgoing singer, Joe Lynn Turner, whose lyrics I’d already replaced, with Roger’s involvement, at a studio in Cookham, Berkshire. One of the songs was ‘Time to Kill’, and everybody liked what I’d put down, except the guitar player, which meant our reunion of the classic Deep Purple line-up looked a bit fragile, from Day One!
Remember, I’d not seen Ritchie for a few years, and so I thought it would be a great chance to bury our volatile history and start afresh. He walked into the studio, said ‘Hi’, and we shook hands. After a couple of minutes of small talk, I said, ‘So what is it you don’t like about ‘Time to Kill’? Is it the lyrics, is it the tune? I can change a bit here and there if you like?’
Ritchie said, ‘I don’t like the words, I don’t like the tune and I don’t like the title! I mean, the world kill doesn’t exactly fit that chord, does it? There was then a pause, after which he added, ‘To be honest, I’d rather you use the words that Joe wrote!’
I think Ritchie feels the same way about ‘Woman from Tokyo’, but, then, he claims his favourite artists are Abba and Neil Diamond, so it’s perhaps not surprising that we’ve exchanged blank looks from time to time.
Consider your position, position your defence
Why don’t you let me ask you is it mere coincidence
Feeding speculators on a downhill gravy train
Like vultures ripping out the eyes to reach the dying brain.
Listen to the wind – a silent scream
Tearing at your broken heart
Like a forgotten dream
My writing of ‘Time to Kill’ remained as I offered it, but the album and tour were a constant struggle, with the band dipping into terminal velocity as we headed for the buffers. Even so, Ritchie’s leaving in the manner he would choose was definitely critical, and we had to decide whether we could carry on.
We talked about various options and ideas, but it was Mr Udo (a Japanese promoter) who suggested Joe Satriani as a replacement, and so we called him to see if he was interested and available; if he might just be up for it? We all understood it could never be a permanent thing, just a means to save us from drowning. And, soon after we’d sent him a tape from the Stuttgart show, he arrived in Japan, a perfect gentleman, a perfect professional and a consummate player. We told him we’d booked a couple of days for rehearsal, and he just walked in and played immaculately. First time!
We looked through the studio window to see Mr Udo, Colin Hart (our tour manager) and the crew holding up cards. It was like marking an ice-skating competition, and the figures were all 9. 9, and higher! It was a breeze – he was making it so easy for everyone. And then came the moment to play ‘Smoke on the Water’, and somebody said, ‘Oh, we don’t need to do that, do we?’
‘I’d like to do it!’ Joe replied.
‘OK, then,’ we said, which provoked the glorious response, ‘Gee, I never thought I’d get to play “Smoke on the Water” with Deep Purple!’ And, after that, Joe came straight on stage with us for the first show at Nagoya. He looked brilliant, played brilliantly, and the rest of the tour through Japan was simply bliss! In fact he agreed to stay on for the European tour the following June, and we occasionally made overtures to him about staying on some more – perhaps permanently? However, Joe had always been very open about the fact that he had his own band, and all too quickly the time came for him to return to his projects. He’d filled a gap, which allowed us to continue, regain our confidence and realise there was life after Ritchie. And so it was time to sit down and look for a permanent replacement.
We took a poll as to who wanted whom, and the American musician, Steve Morse featured on everybody’s list. We approached him, and, after we’d talked through our situation and ambitions, it was clear he was interested, which left us to ask if there were any questions he had for us. ‘Just one: is there any dress code?’
Steve still had some gigs to honour with his band, the Dixie Dregs, but he met up with us all in Mexico City during November to rehearse and play a few warm-up dates. So what’s then to say? Well, suffice that the gods had decided to smile on us again, as we realised beyond any shadow of doubt that, as with Joe Satriani before, we’d got lucky a second time! Steve became the permanent guitar player of Deep Purple at the end of 1994.