Ian Gillan: The Autobiography of Deep Purple’s Singer

by Ian Gillan

  Born Again went to No. 4 in the UK during October, and made No. 39 in America, but a few words about the cover design are perhaps deserving of a mention, since I’d initially been tasked with bringing some ideas forward to the band and management. Unfortunately, and despite going to various design people I respected; all submissions I put forward were rejected out of hand as being not nearly dangerous enough; after which Don took things over and arranged for the final product, which we all thought was a bit unfortunate. Still, I’d learned very early on that Don tended to get what he wanted, so it seemed best to let sleeping dogs lie, and, over a pint or three in a pub, we’d look to the plus side of having him on our side, because it was reassuring to have a guy of his calibre and persuasion looking after you as an artist!

  Talking of artistry, I know Tony Iommi learned a few things from me, as I introduced my own way of coping with life on the road to the band. In fact, I gave him advanced warning at an early get-together in his local pub, where I got very drunk, dropped my trousers and encouraged a lady I’d never met to let me wear her tights, before she let me have all her clothes. Well, that’s what I’ve done from time to time – it’s a way of avoiding the risk of getting stuck on a treadmill, if you will, and it’s something Deep Purple understood, and was sometimes even appreciated!

  However, I think what really irritated the Sabbath people was that, after a good late-night session, I’d still be up first thing, fresh as a daisy, and doing the crossword, while they came down looking like shit!

  And then, of course, there would be the occasional party where various substances were passed around, and on one such occasion a roadie came up and pushed something under my nose – but it didn’t do anything for me. So, I (apparently) asked him to run this something by me again, which he did with the same result, at which point he wandered off looking back over his shoulder a couple of times! Still, it really is not a good idea to get into that kind of stuff, as I’ll try to explain later.

  On the road, if I didn’t much like the shows, I definitely enjoyed the social side with the band, as we went from one crisis to another. We were arrested in Barcelona, after I’d allegedly set fire to a waiter’s jacket, and about that Don had to send some people out from Germany to take care of us, and then stay with the band very closely; but, then, he also deducted the cost of our behaviour from our earnings!

  The American tour was bigger than anything I’d ever experienced, even from the time we toured with the Faces, and it was a masterpiece of organisation, handled by Cal Star Travel, who were based in California, and who knew their business – indeed, our business! So we’d be given individual day sheets of information, which would summarise how we’d travel, how the crew would travel, where we’d be staying and where the crew would be staying. We’d know who the drivers would be, and have their addresses and phone numbers, as well as exact details on each venue, the time for travel to each show, how many were expected and who was promoting, handling backstage and so forth. Our load-in time would be mentioned, as were the times we’d be on stage and after the show on our way out.

  I was used to good organisation before, but Sabs had it well sorted. I also thought I’d toured Canada well, but with this band I did it as if we were gigging around the UK, with Gillan. City to city in Canada means travelling huge distances, but we did it effortlessly!

  January

  29th Salt Palace, Salt Lake City

  30th/31st Ice Arena, Denver County

  February

  1st Civic Center, Amarillo, Texas

  3rd Memorial Coliseum, Corpus Christi, Texas

  4th Convention Center, San Antonio, Texas

  5th Convention Center, Houston, Texas

  And so our time together continued, through to Beaumont, Little Rock, Lakeland, Hollywood, Savannah, Atlanta, St Louis, Toledo, Dayton and more besides; while October and November saw us in Quebec City, Montreal, Ottawa, Sudbury, Toronto, Buffalo and New York, before we travelled on to yet more major cities!

  However, sometimes there comes a moment in life when the past returns to the present, and it happened on a flight between Los Angeles and Salt Lake City, when I was travelling ahead of the band, and occupying the only seat you will get me to travel in, 3A, which is normally by the window. When I turned up to settle in, there was a lady sitting in my place, and the stewardess said she would ask her to move if I wished. I said not to bother, and took the aisle seat next to her.

  Well, we fell into conversation, and she said she was on her way to one of the mining towns to do a show. She explained that she was an entertainer, and, for the full story, it’s frankly best you listen to ‘Mitzi Dupree’ on Gillan’s The House of Blue Light album. Anyway, it turned out that the highlight of her act was the ping-pong stunt I’d seen in Bangkok during the Gillan period, and when I told her I’d seen the routine behind the kitchen at a club, she became very agitated, and made it very clear that whoever I’d seen doing it had stolen her act! Well, it wasn’t for me to discuss how many generations of artists had beaten her to it, but she was a great character!

  Flying to Salt Lake City

  Seats 3A and 3B

  I was down and I needed a window

  But in 3A sat Mitzi Dupree

  Hi, I am Mitzi

  Queen of the ping pong

  Where are you going boy

  I said, nowhere – I’m moving on!

  Born Again did well for us, but I’d decided that Black Sabbath could not be a long-term situation for me, and gave Don my notice before the second American trip. It just wasn’t me, and I suppose the most memorable legacy we left from our collaboration was the inspiration to the makers of the film Spinal Tap, since when I’ve always avoided driving past Stonehenge if at all possible!

  CHAPTER 11

  I’m aware that I am constantly observed for my drinking habits, and that my enjoyment of Scotch (with Coke) in particular is frequently seen as the reason for something not going according to plan. Well I’ve never made any secret of that pleasure, which I’ve certainly indulged in during moments of prolonged stress, but also out of sheer enjoyment. However, and as mentioned earlier, it’s something I drifted into in the early days, and something I also learned how to deal with. I know when I’ve nearly had enough, and I’ve never blamed alcohol for any part of my life going wrong. Apart from one particular incident, it has never affected my ability to perform as a professional artist, although it has certainly helped me to cause considerable embarrassment from time to time. So you might think to question how and where I draw the line when I’m driven or driving close to it, and it’s certainly difficult territory to articulate and negotiate without being face to face in convivial company! Suffice for now, that there are times when I just have to say it’s not my fault if some people can’t take a joke!

  As for the ‘one particular incident’ I mention above, B, my wife of just a few months, and I had spent the day at the Grand National, courtesy of Radio City, Liverpool, and, when that was over, we’d also been invited, along with others on the guest list, to a Battle of the Bands competition at the Royal Court Theatre, where I was to be one of the judges! Well of course that took me back a few years, to the Essoldo with the Javelins, but different from that experience, our hosts on this occasion had arranged for a ‘top’ band to close the evening, and it turned out they were my old mates, the Climax Blues Band, with Radio City rock jock and dear friend Phil Easton also present.

  Anyway, some of the guests had their wives or girlfriends with them, and a few of the gals, who were already fuelled up with racecourse hospitality, started to moan about the cold and everything else under the sun. So, while Phil and I went backstage to decide how we’d cast our votes, his lady went and bought a bottle of vodka, to encourage them to stop complaining; but, of course, it wasn’t going to work, and it also wasn’t long before they were well and truly pissed. Anyway, we got through judging the competition, and then the Climax Blues Band wonderfully came on, even as two of the menfolk in the party wisely g
ot up to take their other halves home. Unfortunately, we’d later hear that, on the way back, the girls, being much the worse for drink, ran into difficulties, as the one who was the front passenger, with her window down, decided to throw up, which meant the one sitting immediately behind her, with her window also open, copped the whole lot, as it came straight back through her window. With everybody now most surely moaning, and the owner of the car the most, I expect, I’ll guess there’s a moral somewhere in all of this – and ‘poetic justice’ for the girls (at least) comes to mind!

  In the meantime, I did something I rarely do, and came on stage to guest with the band. So, having arrived to some considerable applause from the floor, I began to realise that I too was drunk, and somehow incapably so, and this meant that the great blues number I’d started to perform was destined to go on for a very long time. It’s hard to gauge how far into the song I’d got before I became vaguely aware of the venue starting to empty, and, moments later, the musicians started to lay down their instruments. In fact the drummer was the first to quit, and so I thought I’d have a little go at that, before I went back to singing. Well it was a case of ‘this is going great’ as I caught sight of a guitar lying idle, and with that a temptation too hard to resist, I picked it up and played a few chords and notes, before deciding B should also sing. It wasn’t difficult to find her. For one thing, there weren’t a lot of people now left in the venue. But I also became aware of a rather forceful instruction coming from the wings, saying, ‘Enough is enough’ and ‘We’re going home!’ So I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder, still singing my heart out until I was satisfied there was absolutely nobody left to entertain!

  By this time, I was a roaring Oliver Reed character, and I felt so great I just had to share my happiness with everyone, even though there was virtually no one around. However, there was another person left, and he was outside the venue, packing up his hot-dog stand; indeed, he was packing it up very quickly as I approached him. However, once I got alongside him, I courteously asked if he’d like my autograph, to which he replied that not only was he not too keen but he didn’t know who the fuck I was anyway, and would I get out of his face! He kept calling me a ‘fockin’ yeti’, and I took exception to this by grabbing him by the throat.

  I think it was Bron who hit me over the head with something heavy, and we eventually returned to the hotel, where we emptied the lounge bar of late-night drinkers!

  I’d first met B when I was making the Magic album for Virgin, and she and a couple of other girls joined the UK section of the tour, travelling as backing singers called the Cucumbers. In fact, one of the other girls later married Phil Banfield. At the time in question, B was going through a divorce, and I was at a pretty low period of my life, so it all conspired that we’d live together in Westbourne Grove, London, where she became pregnant with our daughter, Grace.

  Quite a few people seemed to give her a hard time about our relationship, saying that I’d soon dump her and so forth; but we talked things through in every detail, and she understood the kind of lifestyle that goes with my work. Otherwise, B will sit alongside me at some of my business meetings, but she also knows my manager is Phil Banfield, and that we leave all such matters with him. However, when it comes to my health, she is more forthright, and, during the period when Gillan were coming to an end after the Magic tour, she picked up on the fact that I was throwing up before and after shows, and told me I was a mess. Well I suppose that may have been true, because I had broken ribs from a football mishap, and my hair was falling out, about which it was thought a decent cut would help its recovery. And so I agreed to cooperate on this, justifying the momentous decision by the fact it was quite frankly getting in the way of my beer!

  It was about that time that we decided we should also have a family motto, and ‘Oh, Dear, Never Mind’ also comes to mind and served its purpose then – and still does!

  So, with a child on the way, and a commitment to B, there was a need for many things to be reviewed and understood; and, of course, I realise that goes for everybody, in all walks of life. However, in rock ’n’ roll we lead very different lives, and I know a lot of musicians find mine even more different from the norm. So B knows I love her more than life itself, but that, when I’m on the road, I like to party, to which extent I suspect that friends like Roger, Phil and others who have to share my company along the way, find it all strange, and sometimes embarrassing. Still, that’s how it is, and I remember the time when her mother, Sheila, and her sister, Julie, once asked me what I’d think if I heard B was behaving like me while I was away. I think my reply might have surprised them. This is not the reply, but it’s about the one I love:

  I love you darling

  When you’re feeling sad and lonely

  I love you darling

  When you put your arms around me

  When we talk on the phone

  You make me feel like coming home.

  It’s a measure of the love, support and sometimes very stretched tolerances shown by B, Phil and those close to me that my peccadilloes are under much more control these days. I still drink and like a cigarette, but most days you’ll find me with a cup of tea in my hand; and, as for smokes, well, I can take them or leave them. I’m a proud father now, with a growing teenage daughter, and I shall never forget the moment, when, after a particularly heavy night some years ago, my darling little Grace whispered into the cloud on my pillow, ‘Daddy, your head smells terrible!’ And that sort of thing stops you in your tracks!

  The last time I’d seen Deep Purple was when Phil and I went to America to meet the band and Ritchie’s manager, Bruce Payne; and, on that occasion, I’m told I behaved very badly, got extremely drunk, poured a pint over my head and went mooning in the streets, returning in due course to find that Ritchie and Roger had left.

  A little while later, in the lead-in to Christmas 1983, Bruce called Phil to see how things were with me. He knew I was with Sabbath on the Born Again project, but just wanted to run a check to see if the reunion idea was worth another try. In fact, the timing was quite timely, because I’d already seen the end approaching with Tony Iommi and the lads, which meant the Purple idea had to be worth listening to; and so Phil spent some time in America with Bruce, bringing a reunion closer, initially as a one-off major concert, but then into something as long-term as the ‘players’ could work together!

  So I crossed the pond in January to meet up with the managers, plus Ritchie and Roger, who lived in New York, and also Jon and Paicey, who flew in from the UK. We had dinner in a private suite, and a few hours later the classic Mk. 2 Deep Purple was back ‘on’, subject to closing ‘matters of business’ being agreed. It was great, and so we parted company, to return whence we’d come from, but just for the time being.

  With diaries being pencilled in to begin rehearsals and recording around late spring into summer, everyone needed to bring their current band commitments to a close, and that was fine, except for a temporary glitch, when Phil called to say that Ritchie was after 50 per cent of the band, and willing to leave it up to the rest of us to work out how we wanted to share the other 50 per cent. Well that didn’t please me one bit, and so I told Phil to tell Ritchie to fuck off, that it was equal shares or no reunion. I did this without consulting the others, but expected them to go along with whatever might be sorted out, which in translation meant it was straight back to the ‘good old days’, with Gillan already being the awkward sod!

  My firm stand worked this time, as Ritchie agreed to the equal-shares deal, and even began writing in the New Year, while he planned winding up Rainbow after their shows in Japan. Jon similarly made arrangements to leave Whitesnake, the situation with Roger being that he’d obviously be coming out of Rainbow, and Paicey was apparently a free agent, having recently left Gary Moore’s band. Finally we all came together for a civilised and progressive meeting in April, after which Tommy Vance made the news public on his Friday Rock Show.

  From then on, the news sp
read like wildfire, as Deep Purple returned under two managers, with Bruce representing everything except my interest, which Phil would continue to look after. In fact, that part of the reunion also caused some early difficulties, because Bruce obviously saw himself in the driving seat, which in many ways was the case, given the arithmetic of the numbers each manager represented. However, the initial idea was that ‘the management’ would be run on a sort of joint basis; although, when it came to commissions on royalties and other such matters, Bruce told Phil that the band had screwed him down too hard, and so Phil helpfully agreed to take a knock, in everybody’s interest. It wasn’t easy for him, and he quite rightly came and discussed the matter with me. I told him not to worry, that he was still my manager, and that he’d earn from everything I was making with Purple. So, while the main effort went to Bruce’s office in America (Thames Talent Limited), Phil spread his wings in the UK and developed what is now Miracle Prestige International Limited (MPI) in London, tying up with Miles Copeland, who managed the Police and Sting.

  We began rehearsals for Perfect Strangers as planned, although I must tell you that rumours of a $2 million advance for the album were grossly exaggerated, a figure nearer to half that amount being a closer bet. Also most of the advance was necessarily held for making the record for Polydor, as well as providing for the organisational costs incurred in setting up the touring that would follow. Still, as in the earlier days when Bill Reid was around, I could have always asked about these details, but, once again, I didn’t. I suppose I could also have asked Ian Paice what the deals were, because he was as interested in matters of money as ever, and was still the only one among us who had any grasp on the subject. But I didn’t even do that, while story has it that he used to go window shopping at the Nat West Bank, just to watch them change the rates of exchange – surely not? In the end, though, I just left it for Bruce to report to Phil as necessary!