Ian Gillan: The Autobiography of Deep Purple’s Singer

by Ian Gillan

  I’d like to think that the setting of my predicament wasn’t beneath an airport flight approach, because if it was, the crew and passengers would have had a memorable journey in, as I stood rooted to the roof of this bank, surrounded by a load of naked old whores, and naked myself from the waist down! I eventually found the rest of my clothes, dressed and climbed down the fire escape, beginning now to chuckle. It was seven, maybe eight in the morning, and the business community was on its way to work. So there was I, the singer of Gillan, walking through the streets with rice-smeared, wine-stained and crumpled clothes, looking like something that had just crawled out of a trashcan. I certainly got some very strange looks from the local workforce, and even stranger ones when I walked into the hotel lobby!

  I don’t know if the sheer pressure of touring gave added weight and stress to the problems bubbling around in the band, and I thought (for example) that it may even have been one of the reasons Bernie had got fed up with us earlier on. It’s my way of life, and I seem to have the constitution to keep going – except (and here I contradict myself for a moment) that I was beginning to suffer more than usual from throat problems, a complaint a medical specialist put down to enlarged nodules.

  A single in January 1982, ‘Restless’, kept us in the public eye, and made No. 25 in the UK charts, while ‘Living for the City’ reached No. 55 in the September following. We were a good band, with a great image and appeal, such that fans – men and women – were even turning up at shows looking like John, with their heads shaved, and with stick-on beards! We’d climbed from the bottom to the top of our profession, and stayed with our label for more than ten releases, most of which were successful. Colin had become a transformed person from that tearful day at Kingsway, when we said goodbye to ‘rock fusion’ – and we all thought his flashing tie on stage was great!

  Janick had become an instant favourite with the fans from Day One, although Bernie’s departure would still crop up from time to time, and seemed to rankle a bit. Of course Mick and I had known each other for so long, it was just magic to be having such a good time with him. As for John, well on stage he was his usual, bumbling, cruising self, but problems festered on, not helped by suspicions and media gossip that I’d been talking to Ritchie about a reunion.

  Well, the only way to deal with situations like that is to get back on the road, and Phil planned a huge schedule for us, including thirty-seven shows in the autumn. We were booked to support Status Quo at Donington Park on 21 August, with the likes of Hawkwind, Saxon and Uriah Heep on the bill. Tommy Vance – who else to ask? – managed the proceedings in a year when, at the grand old age of thirty-seven, I was voted top male singer, while Colin was voted second-best keyboard player after Jon Lord (then with Whitesnake). Oh, and Gillan came in sixth, one above Rainbow in terms of top bands, according to Sounds!

  Otherwise we’d been overseas, including to the Far East, and had started preparing for the last album we’d make for Virgin. Magic would make No. 17 in the UK charts during October 1982, while ‘Living for the City’ was still there, and ‘Long Gone’ was also doing pretty well. Recorded at Kingsway, and mixed by Mike Glossop at the Townhouse, Magic is another album I’m very proud of, with ‘Bluesy Blue Sea’, ‘Long Gone’, ‘Driving Me Wild’ and ‘Demon Driver’ a credit to the often bickering musicians we were!

  Back with the shows, we were perhaps getting a bit stale, and maybe that’s down (in part) to the sheer amount of touring we’d been doing. So, while in Bangkok and in the search of a little innocent distraction, a few of us went to a place I’d heard about, where you could see shows that were apparently pretty down to the knuckle. And so we arrived to find a strip routine in progress, but, after everybody had left, we were shown into a room behind the kitchen, where there was an altogether different cabaret going on. It was highly skilled and very, very rude, yet somehow without being smutty. What these girls were doing with their bodies: double-edged razor blades tied with cotton, signing autographs without using hands, opening bottles of Coke … Well, the whole thing was astonishing to say the very least!

  The highlight of the evening was one particular lady’s performance, during which she got close and entertained a table of about five Italian businesspeople as they sat in amazement at the spectacle before them, each with a glass of wine on the table. Approaching the close of her routine, the lady bent over backwards in a crab-like position, and from between her legs she fired five ping-pong balls in rapid succession, with each one landing in a wineglass! Well, apparently, that particular stunt is considered a high form of art over there, and before table tennis was invented they used eggs! Still, it’s not the sort of anecdote one offers to conversations at polite dinner parties in the shires, so I’ll just conclude by telling you that, once we’d returned home for the final Gillan tour, we played to full houses!

  October

  22nd Civic Hall, Guildford

  23rd Oasis Centre, Swindon

  24th Guildhall, Portsmouth

  27th Rock City, Nottingham

  28th Civic Hall, Wolverhampton

  29th Guildhall, Preston

  30th City Hall, Newcastle

  November

  4th Capitol Theatre, Aberdeen

  5th Caird Hall, Dundee

  6th Apollo, Glasgow

  7th Playhouse, Edinburgh

  8th Market Hall, Carlisle

  10th Victoria Hall, Hanley

  11th Liverpool Empire

  13th Apollo, Manchester

  15th Brangwyn Hall, Swansea

  16th Top Rank, Cardiff

  17th Leisure Centre, Ebbw Vale

  19th St George’s Hall, Bradford

  20th Leeds University

  21st Festival Hall, Corby

  22nd City Hall, Hull

  25th Leisure Centre, Gloucester

  26th Colston Hall, Bristol

  27th Cornwall Coliseum, St Austell

  30th Cliffs Pavilion, Southend

  December

  3rd Arts Centre, Poole

  4th Gaumont, Southampton

  5th Apollo, Oxford

  6th Brighton Dome

  8th Assembly Rooms, Derby

  9th City Hall, Sheffield

  11th Odeon, Birmingham

  14th De Montfort Hall, Leicester

  15th Gaumont, Ipswich

  17th Wembley Arena (London)

  After a schedule like this, one of my main reasons for disbanding Gillan was to give my voice a much-needed break, even though I was also thinking the band had about run its course, and that I (at least) should be looking for new challenges. Of course, when the ‘inner circle’ of the band, and those close to it were told, there was huge upset, and, once the formal announcement was ‘posted’, it gave the press a lot to write about as well! I have already mentioned my affection for the Magic album, and it’s success, so it was sad that circumstances conspired to make the closing period the acrimonious business it became. However, as if that situation were not difficult enough, it certainly wasn’t improved when rumours of a Purple reunion resurfaced almost immediately after the break-up was made public, and into which ‘frame’ my name was included, despite the concerns I had with my voice.

  In fact it was Ritchie, or more probably his ‘people’ (Bruce Payne), who made the initial overtures to bring Deep Purple Mk. 2 together again, it being obvious that his own position needn’t be a problem as such, because he, and indeed Roger, were with his band Rainbow; while Paicey was thought to be at a loose end, having left Whitesnake. As for Jon, well he was still with Whitesnake, but, being very close to David Coverdale, he finally decided to stay alongside him. So, irrespective of what I might or might not wish to do, the idea of a return DP Mk. 2 fizzled out before I could decide either way. However, a very different, totally unexpected and extremely unlikely opportunity presented itself with an approach from Black Sabbath, who’d also just disbanded, following the departure of the diminutive, but all powerful, vocalist Ronnie Dio, and drummer, Vinnie Appice.

  W
ith the loss of their singer and drummer, Tony Iommi and Geezer Butler had been left to decide what to do next, so they first approached their original and co-founding drummer, Bill Ward, to see if he’d return after a long absence brought on by rock-’n’-roll excess, including alcohol and drugs. So Bill agreed to come back, and then, a little after that, I agreed to be their singer for the Born Again album and the tour that would follow.

  In fact, the initial request to join Sabbath first came from their managers, Don and David Arden, who’d initially had the making of a supergroup in mind, with Tony, Geezer, Bill and me. And that was the sort of starting point, when Toni, Geezer and I met in a pub near Oxford. However, a few pints later, and for various reasons, the ‘supergroup’ idea had fallen by the wayside, as talks progressed towards our working under a new band name. Then, a bit later still, and the weight of pragmatic business (that word again!) pointed to keeping the new line-up as Black Sabbath. Of course, there was a lot of discussion as to how my standing and reputation with Deep Purple could be respected, but, by the end of our ‘session’ – perhaps I should have said, ‘meeting’ – the numbers were on their side, and, on balance, I settled to work under their name.

  Sometime during the following morning I had a call from my manager, Phil Banfield saying, ‘I gather you’ve joined Black Sabbath.’ (Very awkward pause, then…) ‘It’s just that, if you’re planning on making an important career change like that, I wish you’d call me first, so we can talk about it!’

  It really was a meeting

  The bottle took a beating

  The ladies of the manor

  Watched me climb into my car…

  Of course, we’d all met before on the festival and rock circuit, but our music backgrounds and the fans we appealed to were very different, so there were bound to be a few puzzled looks as both sides to the merger wrestled with the wisdom of our decision. Still, an official announcement was made at a press conference at Le Beat Route Club in London’s Soho on 6 April 1983, after which we went into the Manor Studio at Shipton-on-Cherwell in Oxfordshire, and, with producer Robin Black and Geoff Nicholls helping on keyboards, we recorded Born Again for the Vertigo label. There are nine songs on the work, including ‘Disturbing the Priest’, ‘Trashed’, ‘The Dark’, ‘Stonehenge’ and the title track, ‘Born Again’, while let’s just say that the sleeve was hard to miss, with its distinctive image of a baby!

  In keeping with the way records were still marketed – and still are – plans were made for us to tour the album and we headlined at the Reading Festival in August, before travelling to America, where the band – or, as I’d prefer to say quietly, all the musicians – had their formidable reputations! In fact, Bill Ward stepped aside from touring, having decided not to put himself in front of the old temptations, and Bev Bevan of the Electric Light Orchestra, or ELO, stepped in for the live and lively journey!

  However, once on the road, I soon began to find things difficult, as the lads started directing me through the performances, and, when it came to the songs, well they wanted to do old stuff, their old stuff! Of course I could understand they had to keep the Sabbath fans happy – after all, tickets were sold – but what about the singer from Deep Purple? So I quickly found that side of the ‘partnership’ a struggle, with the only concession made that we’d close with ‘Smoke on the Water’. Well, that still bothered a lot of people, and it was also before I heard that Rainbow were closing their shows with the same song. (As an aside, and for those with mischievous minds, it was a coincidence that I’m told annoyed Ritchie a great deal!)

  With Black Sabbath, I had to learn their lyrics from classic songs such as ‘Paranoid’ and ‘War Pigs’, plus the new material from Born Again, and this discipline presented yet another set of problems, because I’d never paid close attention to the detail of singing ‘to the letter’, even with my own songs, as many of you will know only too well! Indeed have I not already accepted that no two Deep Purple performances are the same, with a direct link and rationale to the reason we were/are liked by the bootleggers?

  Then the question of clothes was raised, and it was impressed on me (by Geezer) that I’d be expected to dress in black, typical of the Sabbath culture. However, on this one I refused point-blank, which left me with the greatest difficulty of all: facing up to the Sabbath fans themselves, knowing that each and every one was a devoted follower of Ozzy Osbourne! Of course, my predecessor had been Ronnie Dio, but it was beyond any doubt that neither he nor I nor anyone else was ever going to overcome the fact that Ozzy was Black Sabbath – just as I suppose I’m seen that way in relation to, and by so many followers of, Deep Purple. So this realisation was a whole new experience for me, and I was often uncomfortable on stage.

  What then did I try to do to at least ease the situation for us all? Well, before we started on the European and American tour, I realised I had to do something about the lyrics, and so my wife, Bron (B, as she was known, and sometimes as Bumble) sat up with me for half the night writing crib notes with large felt pens. Key lines were highlighted, and the whole set list was then put into a folder, which I rested on the floor and learned how to turn the pages over, with my foot. I spent hours in the kitchen practising the technique, so that, when it came to the first gig, I told the crew to set up a couple of wedge monitors, which I prefer not to use for the purpose they were designed for, but now so I could hide the crib pages from the audience!

  Well, no sooner had we started with the opening song than, to my horror, I saw clouds of knee-high dry ice billowing across the stage towards me, and this in turn led to my precious crib sheet beginning to disappear from sight, until I was reduced to falling on hands and knees to clear the smoke with huge wafting motions! It must have looked incredible to the audience, because all they will have seen would be this three-foot-tall demented singer, peering every now and again over the wedges to bellow whatever lines seemed appropriate at the time. Finally, my misery was completed to ‘the pits’, when some bright spark in the front shouted, ‘It’s Ronnie Dio!’ Well I didn’t dare catch the eyes of Tony or Geezer, because I knew they’d be mad, but I did occasionally catch sight of Bev Bevan’s silly grin from behind the drum stack!

  Otherwise the tour, under management supremo Don Arden, was incredible! Apart from just the occasional interference with our music, he basically left us to get on with it, while he concentrated on his own input to the ‘production’, about which he was irrepressible, and way over the top! For example, we did our world tour to a backdrop of Stonehenge, with the stage structure coming out almost as big as the real thing! So Don had booked us into the Maple Leaf Gardens in Toronto for three or four days prior to the first show, so we could take delivery of his masterpiece and get used to it. The monoliths, which were made of fibreglass, arrived in three or four articulated lorries, and, after they were laid out on the floor, the prop looked simply massive! Unfortunately, what Don and his design enthusiasts had forgotten was that, on stage, the structures took on a massive and disproportionate dimension, so that, from floor level, you looked up to the stage, and then began Stonehenge! In fact, we couldn’t get half of it in for most of the shows, and I’m not talking here about ‘large halls’, because we were playing mostly ice hockey arenas and football stadiums! Still, Don was totally unfazed by the situation, and gave us a lecture in which he explained how little we knew about entertainment, showbiz and so forth, before he upped the stakes by adding thunder flashes, and pumping out awful taped music to presumably represent his perception of hell! I suppose everything came to a head when Bev came up to me with news on his latest idea. He said he’d seen this dwarf hanging around the set all day, and so we went to see. Well, sure enough, there was this little fella roaming around, and we started saying unkind things, such as ‘Maybe he’s Ronnie Dio’s hairdresser’ or ‘Someone’s forgotten to say that Ronnie had left the band.’ Miserable things like that!

  However, when we arrived for the soundcheck, our new pal of unknown purpose climbed into a re
d costume, and then attached horns and long fingernails. Of course, we realised immediately that it was the baby from the album cover, and so there was a rush to stop Don from allowing the madness to go any further. Well, of course, no such luck, and as the tape started to roll, and the moaning and screaming of a distorted baby’s voice was mixed in, so our stage extra started crawling along the top of one of the structures. It was absolutely appalling – those putrid noises rolling out and Don’s horrible creation crawling over Stonehenge, screaming his head off, until, all of a sudden, he stood up, screamed, screamed and screamed one final time, before he fell off backwards to the safety of a mattress below.

  After a few moments of theatrical silence (maybe it was shock), our roadies came on dressed as druids, with cowls and all, to the sound of deep tolling bells, at which point we were supposed to rush on and start playing. However, we went and found Don instead, and said, ‘Look we can’t have this – it’s in shocking bad taste.’ But we were interrupted in our protest and received a vintage Arden reply: ‘You lads play, and leave me to provide the show business. Give them what they love!’

  Well, I looked at Bev, he looked at me, we both then looked at Tony and Geezer, and it was very clear that nobody was happy. So we went back to remonstrate with Don about the dwarf, but Don’s not really the sort of guy you mess with, and, in the end, we just shrugged our shoulders, and went away to prepare for the evening performance.

  Come show time, we opened with the smoke, the cannon, the explosion of red light, and, in the eerie atmosphere, the Devil’s baby duly started to crawl along the top of Stonehenge, screaming its head off. It then stood up and fell off backwards as, bang on cue, we rushed on, and started playing. However, the screaming kept going on and on – right through to the end of the first number. It seemed that someone had taken the mattress away – and our friend wasn’t there the following night!