This article is copyright of The Scotsman and used with their permission for this purpose only.
Deep Purple
OVO Hydro, Glasgow
***
Unlike many of their rock monster contemporaries, Deep Purple – one of the founding fathers of heavy metal – rarely lumber. Their rock ‘n’ roll is hard and fast, just as it should be. You could even argue that from a certain angle they had/have more in common sonically with the punks who supposedly wiped out the dinosaurs in the late 1970s.
But let’s not get carried away; as evinced by this scrupulously engineered barrage of voluminous heavyocity, Deep Purple are the quintessential prog-adjacent hard rock band.
After only three songs we were treated to a long unaccompanied guitar solo from newish recruit Simon McBride. It felt like a showcase to waylay any fears their fans may have – don’t worry, this kid (he’s 45) can play. And he can, although I was inevitably reminded of Nigel Tufnel. But that’s only to be expected, these guys helped to create the arena rock clichés after all.
Longstanding keyboardist Don Airey performed two extended showboating solos, one of which incorporated snatches of classical, boogie woogie, Scotland the Brave and a pleasing barrage of squiggle and skronk teased from a beautiful analogue synth.
At one point, while mid-flow, a roadie dressed as a waiter handed him a glass of red wine to toast the crowd with; a corny piece of rock theatre that only a band such as Deep Purple can get away with.
Ian Gillan’s banshee voice has weathered well. A little strained at times, perhaps, but he still has a stronger set of pipes than anyone resembling an exact gene splice between Sir Ian McKellen and Terry Jones has any right to.
The unassuming star of the show, though, was founding member Ian Paice on drums. A rocking Womble, he can still conjure up the thunder of the Gods.
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