Ritchie Blackmore: Shallow Purple
Ritchie Blackmore’s face fell into a tortured grimace. “Fucking hell, ” he growled through a mouthful of steak. “This tastes like burnt rubber!” Fuming, he sank a fork into the meat and flung it across the dining room of the high-rent restaurant. The maitre d’ hustled up to the Deep Purple guitarist.
“Is something wrong with your steak, sir?”
Blackmore looked down at his now meatless plate. “What steak?”
“The steak you’ve just thrown across the room.”
“Oh yes, of course.” Blackmore smiled innocently. “The steak was fine. It’s the baked potato that’s a bit… well, overcooked.”
“Very well, sir. I’ll find you a new one.”
“No, no. Don’t worry about it.” Blackmore picked up the potato and chucked it into the kitchen door. “Could I have my check please?”
Later that evening, tuning his guitar backstage at the Jacksonville Coliseum, Blackmore explained himself: “I love this business,” he said. “I can do exactly what I want with who I want. I don’t have to be nice to anyone. I don’t like people anyway, they’re too suspicious. To me, they’re guilty before proven innocent. I wear black all the time, and people stay away from me. It’s all part of this dark, moody image I’ve got.
“I’m happy, I’m contented, I just don’t go around laughing my ass off like a drunken Irishman. When I’m relaxed, I look miserable. That’s the way it is. The only thing that makes me laugh is a good practical joke. Like tonight. I love setting people up for them. Destruction is also very funny to me. Maybe I’ll look back in 10 years and say I was a bit naughty then, but fuck it. I’m having a great time as a moody bastard.”
The guiding hand behind Deep Purple, Ritchie Blackmore, 29, can count among his peers English guitarists Jimmy Page, Jeff Beck, Peter Green and Eric Clapton. Blackmore began his professional career at 17 as lead guitarist and arranger for Screaming Lord Sutch, and he recalled being the whiz-kid sensation of London. “All the big groups knew and raved about me. We played with the Stones once and Mick Jagger said in an interview that I was the best guitarist he’d ever seen. The next week I slagged the Stones in print and that was the end of that friendship. Still, I was well respected, from top to bottom.”
After quitting Sutch’s band, Blackmore took a look around at the budding British pop scene and fled in horror. “Everywhere you looked, all you could see were these pretty faces – the Hollies, the Beatles… I moved to Hamburg, Germany, for a few years. Meanwhile, I practiced five hours a day. Finally, Hendrix hit it big in England. I figured it was safe again, so I moved back and got together a band [Deep Purple] of my own.”
Deep Purple’s lineup has yet to be constant for any long stretch of time. The original members, Jon Lord (organ), Ian Paice (drums) and Blackmore, could easily be likened to Traffic, where musicians outside the basic core are highly impermanent. “I have a short attention span,” Blackmore said.
One wonders why Blackmore has spent most of his career outside the spotlight, content to call the shots from the dark side of the stage. “I haven’t taken steps toward becoming a guitar star simply because I don’t fit the mold. That’s best left to people like Jimmy Page, who look the part. I always get embarrassed when I start flaunting myself. I could be very sexy onstage, but all that business is rather silly. I know I’m a great guitarist. I know I can blow any other guitarist off any stage. I’m totally satisfied with myself. Combing my hair doesn’t make me a better artist. I get knocked by other musicians for guitar bashing, but then they’re all starving and they wonder why.”
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